tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14661599198934246572024-03-05T18:01:23.904+08:00catching the duma virusLilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01454730582501928712noreply@blogger.comBlogger267125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1466159919893424657.post-24485009603695282142012-11-28T13:13:00.000+08:002012-11-28T13:13:25.150+08:00From The Girl Who Saw Death<br />
There's a memory machine she always carries and last night her new guardian of ghosts offered to wipe out the memory. It made her pause and open Death's untouched files in this machine.<br />
<br />
There, another untold story of sufferance. She feels sad about how bad she and it all was, nods, and says to the Pie beside her: Always the differences in things in all that silence.<br />
<br />
For example, Death was putting the girl through the Single's test on she-loves-me-if-she-opens-the-driver's-door-from-the-inside. Well, the girl almost snorts but laughs instead to Pie, New cars and the automated lock system. You keep unlocking the driver's door from the inside and eventually that would wreck the system. Besides, the girl sighs, Death reprimanded me about that already. <br />
<br />
The girl laughs to Pie, Even Death gets sucked into the reel of movies. And then there was Death who would always drive carefully because the girl would never wear her seat-belt for it choked her and said that she trusted Death's driving.<br />
<br />
Really, what was the girl thinking trusting Death on the wheel? Then again she did. Then again she loved Death. And so was killed, and so she died.<br />
<br />
Lilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01454730582501928712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1466159919893424657.post-61643533853441465072012-11-26T10:48:00.003+08:002012-11-26T10:48:53.319+08:00Mary You Will Always Be<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Fucked
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
over
by the bastards you fall for. Fall. The way you fall on your face or ass
juggling and scrambling over to do their bidding and pander to whims and roll
over their mood swings. Aren’t you tired yet, you stupid bitch. The long and
suffering Mary, you want to be. Why. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
You
see</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
and
see and the voice inside you niggles if this is it and this is how it will be.
Exhausted, here you are, waiting still. You want to make a bet that after
Joseph’s done he might not even ask where you are, if you waited. Or worse that
he had already gone home while you are here waiting, when you could have gone
home yourself. Tired already as it is, your days now running for 24-hours to
ride his clock that refused to fall unto steady ticking. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
You
are fucked </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
over.
Without dinner and dinner is now this beer to soothe your mangled nerves. You
knew it. You should have gone home. And you didn’t and you knew that your mouth
would run over given the restraint has been whittled away by the day’s
grounding. You refuse to assert or defend what good you’ve done. When would all
this falling and falling over be over. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Done,
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
like
clapped hands while asleep to wake yourself up. Why do you constantly seek the
difficult and seek its worth. Play, bitch. Play it like it should be, cool, and
cold, and mum. How about if the feared tonight happens. What then. Well, you go
on home stupid girl, oh you idiot and never say how you waited or why you
waited or how much you loved. Or to make an accounting of what you’ve done,
unappreciated. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
It
will never </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
be
enough, what you do, for this one’s the hungriest of them all and look at you,
at how your flesh has been eaten or how your bones have been sucked off the
marrow. Want to make a bet that he will never search nor will he ever look or
ask where you are. Because he will wait and always wait for the lead from you.
And your skepticism will always try to trust, hoping always that this time
maybe you’ll let go, and it will war with your self-protective instincts to
anticipate. So that what hurts will not destroy you. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
So,
silence. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
So,
he will be comforted once more by his toad and lion. While you play out the
martyrdom here. Here, where you wait like a fool playing hide and seek.
Sickened and sickening. You look around. No. There’s nothing. No. There’s no
one. No. He will not come. No. He’s not here. No. He will go home. He will not
ask. And you, you will be hurt. And nurse that like the cold that never goes
away. That cold you feel in your chest. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Fucked
over. In the desert inside you </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
is
cackling. It is choking, isn’t it, Darling. When the wind is the air. It comes
and goes. Support? Whatever you do will never be supportive enough. The best
that can be done will never be enough. And you hurt like a child. Hurt by the
green’s anger. Green. Still green. Rage that cannot be controlled and a tornado
always comes to take what you have loved and love in this man-child. And what’s
feared has happened. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
He
left. Did not ask </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
where
you were. Expecting for you to tell him. He did not ask. He tells you it’s your
fault. He tells you “whatever”. By god. Your dead God. He tells you to go home.
He’s too tire and frayed. He doesn’t want another outburst because you’re
frustrated. He tells you to ease the fuck up. Slaps. There it is woman: You’re
with the wrong man. This is horror. This is truth. And you… you want to laugh. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Come
on, be yourself, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
woman,
Stop being kind. Be the cruel woman that you really are. Stop the Hail Mary. A
man gets to say that he is tired but a woman is never supposed to be able to
say that. You have to endure. This is a turning point. The cold in you knows
it. This is the night you decide that you will leave him. That cut. That
silence. There is relief. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
Loss
is there </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
and
there is relief. You can look around the plaza now and finally see what you see
and smile. The Father who knows you is right. End it, he said. End it. Cut.
Just leave. And once more, it’s “Nothing’s gonna change my world…” in your
head, that song, that song that steadies you in the shifting reality by being
with the scorching wind, the air that drowns. You are intelligent but have yet
to smarten up. And here you are, smarting and smartening. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
You
now remember that time you were </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
in
college, had become ill, dying and the only thing that made sense was dying,
and the only person to which this made sense was a metallic voice who listened
like a robot and a robot you would pay and who’d only nod and drug you more and
more after. And you were almost reduced
to a vegetable. Or was it the time just before then. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
No,
no, that was after. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
There
you were in one of the malls you would always hate. You were on the upper floor
where there were less people. And you were looking around. You went into a shop
full of coins made worthless by time yet ironically like with most real things
in life—rendered so by facts of what makes human— more valuable. You just went
in without looking back. You looked back and none of your family was there. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
There
you were </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
wearing
your Mickey Mouse baseball jersey and baggy jeans and white socks and
flip-flops. There you were without money or ID in your pockets. Without even
that detested phone like the Nokia 5110 or 3210. Or all the Motorolas or Nokias
that you’d always lose after. You sat. And waited. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
They
came back </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
for
you. They were looking for you the whole time.
They came back. They came back frantic and trying to dispel it with the
macabre humor you all developed from different childhood hells yet hell all the
same. The kind that laughed at laughs still at horror. There you were, a look
that would surface now and then on your face before shook off, the way a dog
would shake off the spinning from a blow to the head, a face crumbled by fear
and grief and loss. Shook off by cold resolve, that resolve which allowed you
to survive hells. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
That
look </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
that
showed being lost and just lost, un-tethered, unmoored ad returned to that bed
where you would stare up towards the dark while the monsters do you in bed.
That look in the dark taking you way from the bed, from the house, from the
city, from the province, from the region, from the island, from the country,
from Southeast Asia, from Asia, from Earth, from the Solar System, from the
Milky Way, to beyond and beyond where the end is and it all began. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
And
thereon, they </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
knew.
And so wherever you go one or two or more of them would walk beside you and
take your hand. Or you’d walk in the middle. Sit in the middle between two
bodies which reassured you that you were safe while in theatres. That would
usher you inside trains outside the country that is your home. And once, not so
long ago, someone you loved walked out the door and left you. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
That
one told </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
your
loved ones, in a way, about it. Your
loved ones said that one who left would be really lucky if one could still ever
get to enter that door again. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
And you hear</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify; text-justify: inter-ideograph;">
right
then, a door that had been swinging, and it quietly closed. </div>
Lilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01454730582501928712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1466159919893424657.post-6089468353272146582012-05-14T09:49:00.005+08:002012-05-14T10:07:28.738+08:00Unlikely (Mommies)<div style="text-align: justify; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><b>It began with the sisters as mothers---</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>1.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>My mother said that I’m the eldest’s favorite because my Manay never hit me. When we (the youngest half of the siblings) went off to college, the eldest sister became our mother. I’d like to write about her but like most holy things her story remains elusive. </span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>2.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I say that the second’s my second mother because it was to her that I began confessing my secrets. I want to re-write her story but it will take a wedding.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>3.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>(Amir, future brother-in-law, I know our mother asked you not to do what other men have done to her daughters. Thank you for being a protector.)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>4..<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>My third sister is like the cool mom who goes with me through all the wild things, the dark things, and the roller coasters. The words in my head, unsaid, she has always read.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>5.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>My youngest sister is my mother when it comes to being my Self. Yesterday I quipped, “Maybe someday I’ll get to celebrate this day with you and Mommy!” And she said, “Are you pregnant?! No shit, tell me the truth: are you pregnant?!” Geez, no, haha, but you’ll be the first to know. “If ever, that’s okay, get pregnant soon!”</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>6.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I told my mother yesterday that the greatest story I will write will be for her and about her. She cried.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><b>Baby, you say that they say that it takes a village to raise a child---</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>1.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>And I look at that 10-year-old picture, our village--- atheists, rockers, deviants, the younger dead, respectable aliens now.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>2.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Was I the one who took that picture?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>3.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>You are an amiable mother, your daughter says.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>4.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>And I always say that I’ll whack her ass if and when I find out that she’s disrespecting you and with “Hay, punyeta, kung alam mo lang ang hirap na pinagdaanan ng Nanay mo habang binubuntis ka ha. Grabe! Kung ako yun, maloloka ako! Umayos ka, umayos ka! And make no mistake, you got your brain, kid, from your Mom.”</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>5.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>My baby is now a ten-year-old-mommy.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><b>The Evita Peron of Suburbia</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>1.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Calls me sexy and asks how I am, surprised by my turning vampire and so what about our dinners? Weekends and perhaps a holiday before she returns to more business. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>2.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>She’s saddened that she could not enjoy more time with her third son, almost two months old, and please reserve July for the christening.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>3.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Pooh will be there.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>4.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Happy mommy’s day, Bitch.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>5.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Someday I will tell your sons that you’re famous for declaring “VIRGINITY IS A CURSE!”</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><b>Pooh(ta!) on a Camel</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>1.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I miss her and her no-nonsense-talk about what is stupid and painful and go for whatever would make you happy. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>2.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>All for my whimsy and weirdness.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>3.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Like once I went to a gathering in her home, Evita and Baby and Poohta all with children then. I said, “Can I bring one of my cats next time? My baby.”</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>4.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>And, “Can I bring Inchika home with me? Please?”</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>5.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Inchika, her first daughter, and Poohta said, “Hoy, hindi yan toy!”</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>6.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>And no kidding, Torotot Boy still has a death-tag on his head…Wuuuusaaaaaaa.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>7.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>See you in July, Super Mom.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><b>Katitang The Kid</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>1.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Who once thought that she’ll never have a child.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>2.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>There’s a memory of a guy who once told me about looking at you and there you were riding around on a kid’s tricycle.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>3.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Cysts and birth control pills.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>4.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Now there’s Lucia.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>5.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>(And horny high school boys, ugh, what little pigs for slaughtering.)</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>6.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>And have found that you can do anything and everything but all you really want to be is a mother.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>7.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Be scared oh foolish children and adults who would dare to hurt this child. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><b>Honeybunch and Mahal</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; "><span><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>1.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>With your boys and your girls.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>2.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Maybe someday they’ll be sweethearts haha.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>3.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Far far far from what was high school and college, life now.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>4.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Did you ever think you’ll be mothers?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><b>Mommy and Lola and Yami</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; "><span><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>1.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>You all used to call me (and yes until now, age will never outgrow those childhood names).</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>2.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Nowadays I’m “Big Sister” and mostly “Ma’am” or “Miss”.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>3.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I don’t know about “yummy” but to some I’m still “Yams”.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>4.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The elementary boys call me “Miss Minchin!” Damn drunken bastards.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>5.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I was a mother even then, wasn’t I?</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>6.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>And all whom I have taught and will teach will be my vicarious children. Except nowadays I don’t treat them like children, more like post-grad teenagers.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><b>My Wife</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; "><span><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>1.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>You know you have also been my mother.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>2.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>You did not abandon your son.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>3.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Death comes and we feel something die in us too.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>4.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Time.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>5.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Be well and let the dead not take you away from me.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><b>On this Sunday last year</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; "><span><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>1.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The hurt from the dead telling me that I’ll be a bad mother was still felt.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>2.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Foul.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>3.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Single mothers are admirable.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>4.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I say ‘Wow’ when I listen to what they have to do and what they’ve done.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>5.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Single mothers are also, at times, unreconstructed women.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>6.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>It’s all about being whole without a man.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>7.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> Only then will single mamas be ready for another man, an equal, and not men who want a surrogate mama they can fuck.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><b>This Mother’s year </b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; "><span><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>1.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>On this Sunday I hope that mothers would forgive themselves from all the guilt that they would feel.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>2.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>That women who are trying and failing to have children would stop punishing themselves. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>3.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>There’s a smile from heard sentences like “I want you to be the mother of my children.”</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>4.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The first page of a new notebook is about its mother. It remembers that she had cried when her children each gave her notes. And that it noticed how its dad has become sweeter to its mother. Or how easily the mother cries as she grows older. Its dad prays that mother lives longer to continue being the family’s mother.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>5.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> I’m sorry Mom for all my failures.</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>6.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Thank you for keeping your silence all throughout these years and now saying, “My daughter was holding herself back because the man needed to get ahead first. I saw what she was doing. I saw the pain that she was going through.”</span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>7.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Loving Mother, Fierce Mother, always holding on to her children who have gone astray, I hope I don’t break your heart with my choices. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span><b>If I’m afraid of something, it is a world without my mother.</b></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span>0.<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>It is unimaginable. </span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span><br /></span></div><div style="font-size: 100%; font-weight: normal; "><span> </span></div></div><div style="text-align: justify; font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div>Lilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01454730582501928712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1466159919893424657.post-72408180556660919142012-04-25T13:10:00.008+08:002012-04-25T13:30:23.569+08:00THE GENERAL AND THE IV<div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">The General called me by my childhood name, his normal voice that was always a shout and which had become softer and gentler through the years was this time a shout. And trained since childhood to jump and start running towards him when he called us that way even as we his children would say “POOOOOOOO!”, that’s what I did exactly even at 33. </div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">I quickly put “Funny People” on pause--- my third movie after finishing <i>How Do you Know </i>and <i>Water for Elephants</i>--- my slippers pattering down the stairs from the second floor of the penthouse towards the kitchen, coughing through the last painful stages from this caught summer flu, and ready for action. Or ready for war, as we siblings joke.</div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">The General had taken apart the Daewoo Hot & Cold Water Dispenser we’ve had for seven or so years (the way I had seen him take apart car engines and broken appliances throughout life) which as of yesterday his four daughters were convinced needed replacing. Because the thing just leaked out all the water from the 5-gallon-round, his daughters had shrugged and would have willingly paid 7 000 pesos for a new dispenser, too.</div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">“Okay Pops, what do you want me to do?”</div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">“I need you to insert this tube into that,” the General said, pointing to a narrow protruding aluminum pipe, “That’s where the leak is coming from. You have smaller hands.”</div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">Of course the General would find out what the problem was and how to fix it. I nodded and set my smaller hands--- which my guy best friend always says look like a man’s hands or panda paws--- to inserting the tube. The tube’s circumference was smaller than the pipe’s and I did not ask the General how I could make that work because he had taught us not to ask other people until we’ve tried all the possible ways to figure something out on our own.</div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">It wasn’t working out and the brittle tube tore. The General took over and muttered about “brittle” and “old”, pulling out the other intact end and trying to fit it into the pipe. I looked at the pipe from another angle and said, “Give me that, I’ll put that in from here.”</div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><span style="font-style: normal; ">And so I slip the tube into the pipe by feeling my way and pushing it down to fit until in place. The General nodded and in my head I was laughing </span><i>Just like when you roll down a condom.</i> The wild child in me wanted to tell the General that, but I wouldn’t dare. I wouldn’t want to give the General a shock or another opportunity to ask me about my sex life the way he had done so last year which had shocked me into giving him a snorting reply then laughter after.</div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><span style="font-style: normal; ">I couldn’t wait to tell my guy best friend about the condom-insight though, something like </span><i>So I should tell women that the skill of putting on condoms on guys is also useful when it comes to fixing appliances. </i>That would make him laugh and hell that would make my girl-friends really laugh.</div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">There, done, and it was back to putting the screws and bolts back. I saw that the General’s hands were not as steady with smaller things the way they were when I was younger. As I picked up a screwdriver, I was remembering how he used to pass the screwdriver and other tools to me when I was maybe two or three years old while he was fixing the engine of the Beetle. Way back when we used to live in San Roque, it was something to distract me from my wailing like a turtle and clinging to my mother because I didn’t want Mommy to leave for the bank in Naga where she worked which was an hour away. Or as the General said, he did that too when my older sisters would leave me so that they could do their own things. </div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">The General would tell me then, “Here, help me fix the car.” The distraction always worked. I would really be only stabbing or intensely turning the screwdriver into whatever part of the engine or the tire rim the General said and I didn’t feel like a sucker. I would mock myself whenever that story is brought up in conversations over drinks with the General and whoever among my boys who’d come over to join us, “Boy was I just a sucker.” And we would all laugh. But I still find banks evil to this age, because the big, bad, bank had taken my Mommy away from me. And yeah, as one of my girl-friends who’s supposed to be a doctor would reiterate whenever I require her presence, “I don’t mess with your abandonment issues, man.”</div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">“Here,” the General laughed this time as he handed the bolts to me, “Isn’t this what you used to do when you were a kid.”</div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">I laughed as I took the bolts from him, wry, “I was thinking of that actually. I don’t know if this is a downgrade or upgrade--- from a Beetle to a water dispenser.” And I remembered then as I screwed the dispenser’s panels in place how I was taken by the General as his sidekick around construction sites until I was in maybe Grade 2 or 3. The General made sure from then on I knew how to mix cement and make hollow blocks and construct a house and fix electrical problems and know farming stuff and all the other things that fathers would teach their sons. Including all the stuff that daughters are supposed to know like how to properly market, cook, do and fold the laundry, iron, housekeeping stuff. </div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">“Dude,” I would tell my guy best friend, “I wasn’t just a little girl. I was a little boy too haha.” Which led me to tell the General seven or eight years ago when he was asking me to help him cement the laundry area in our old apartment in Masikap Street in UP Village, “In case you haven’t noticed, I am a girl, Dad. GIRL! Young WOMAN NOW! I don’t wanna do guy stuff anymore!” The General had laughed and shooed me away then.</div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">I remembered too how the General taught me in high school how to do a balance sheet, which was easier than what my accounting teacher was drilling into me. My siblings and I would rarely go to the General for help in assignments though because that was just not done. In fact, that was “STUPID ASKING FOR AN EVIL EYE OR A WHOOPING”.</div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">I was just given tips in driving by the General though because he had his driver teach me when I turned 18. The General didn’t have the time because the Army’s money was keeping him busy. The driver just told him after that he didn’t need to teach me because I already knew how to drive but I was a speed-freak and if I didn’t learn to slow down then I would likely kill someone. The General did show me how to take care of cars and how to drive through 400+ kilometers of the South Road of the Naga-Manila and vice-versa route in just 6-7 hours. I have yet to beat his 5 hours.</div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">The General was the one who taught me to get back into driving though six months after I crashed my ex-boyfriend’s car into an 18-wheeler-truck when I was 21. (I was drunk and my ex and I were fighting. The truck driver thought I was a guy given my GI Jane hairdo.) I couldn’t bring myself to drive anymore and the General never barked and just gently gave me instructions and told me to take things slowly as I guided the family van through our subdivision’s back roads. And until now he still teaches me how to parallel-park whenever we’re in the same car because I still suck at that. </div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">And handling guns I learned on my own though the General was all for my owning one. I declined, said that my temper would kill someone given that I was younger and angrier then. And all he had to say about guns in relation to the events of my life in the past two years is “I want your ex to return the gun I gave him. Because that was given to him so that he had something to protect you.” I nodded but like everything that was left behind I consigned that to everything else that’s radioactive from a nuclear fallout. </div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">When the General would ask me now and then about the gun I want to own, I would say, “A C-60 rifle or maybe a .22 rifle.” Or maybe an AK-47 because it’s just durable. I still want a Glock 9 though. And a couple of months ago he just asked me to show him how I was holding a knife and so I showed him. “No, no, not like that,” he had said. </div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">“Oh, you mean like this?” I had laughed as I flipped the knife, crouched, the blade parallel to my inner wrist, ready to swing the knife like a fan in Singkil to slash through the death points, “Pops, this is how I automatically hold a knife BUT I’m gonna chop vegetables, hello.” I had to stop with the knife-fighting classes when I broke my middle finger last year. The General had looked at my taped finger when he came over to check up on recuperating-me and heckled, “Well I thought you already lost your finger!”</div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">The man-stuff-trainings, my guy best friend said, are all locked in place and shit I am really capable of killing someone when I just lose my cool. Because I almost maimed him months ago when I lost my cool and a cracking punch to the nose was thankfully re-directed. “Hell yeah,” I said in disgust, “I’ve been fucking trained well…” to kill hurtful men by hurtful men.</div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">The General’s Wife would always say that I think like the General and move like the General and drink like the General and smoke like the General (and that my temper is like the General’s AND my army and guerilla WWII grandfathers). “Genetics,” I would laughingly reply. Sometimes the General would shake his head and wonder out loud, “What would have happened if your sisters and you were guys?”</div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">Just like he asked again when the baby sister of the family finally graduated at 30 years old and with three kids last month. I laughed, “Jesus Christ, did you see how your youngest daughter went all Xena The Warrior Princess on the Ateneo guards a while ago? And how she moved those huge blackboards? You and Mom would have always ended up bailing one or all of us out! We would have been more of hellions! All blackest of sheep! So be grateful that we turned out daughters instead.” </div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">Nowadays I think that I’ve become kinder like the senior citizen General AND the God-fearing General’s Wife and that I’d like to be with a guy who’s maybe like the General. Maybe someone like the General would make me feel womanly and soft enough given all the history without breaking my spirit and individuality. Someone who’d teach my future daughter someday things like what the General taught me. And no shit it was the General who taught me how to use the sanitary napkin too when I first got my period.</div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">So the General and I were done fixing the dispenser. Before sitting down for coffee and cigarettes, the General told me to text my sisters to tell them that we owed him 7000 pesos. Or that maybe kid them that we bought a new dispenser and the General <span style="font-size: 100%; ">was the one who paid for it.</span></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">I laughed, “Your eldest daughter would ask you where you got the money.”</div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">The General laughed, “Then she’d borrow money.”</div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">I laughed again, “Fat chance that your baby girl would pay you back!” </div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">In fact, we still owed him the money for the dispenser because he was the one who paid for it. Then my nose noticed a burning smell and I thought it was my laptop overheating. The General stood up and checked the dispenser and we saw that there was a little fire going. The General quickly unplugged it while I scrambled around the penthouse looking for the fire extinguisher with, “Oh shit! Oh shit! Where the hell’s the fire extinguisher! I saw it somewhere here!” (C’mon, give me a break, it was the first time I saw a burning appliance inside my own house.)</div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: justify; "><span style="font-style: normal; ">The General laughed and calmly said, “It’s here. No need for it”. Then he shook his head, muttered </span><i>It was dry</i>, nodded while still thoughtful, “Well, it’s time to buy a new one. Can we get the round gallons changed to those with a faucet in the meantime? Just use containers and put them in the fridge.”</div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">The General would always say that he does not regret raising us the way he did because it had taught his children to work hard and not to be afraid of labor. And it’s true because even if I were all decked out in heels and skirt I know I can change a flat tire or push cars or lift appliances or yeah mix cement, unafraid of grease or dirt or sweat. Or yeah kick some asshole’s ass even when looking like a pink marshmallow. And yes he had taught us to survive.</div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; ">“Yeah, Pops,” I said. And I thought that it’s just like the General to try to fix something first before it is thrown away or replaced even if it fails. And to think straight to alternatives even as the “why” or “how” of something broken or something burned is constantly thought of until discovered and understood. Just as I do.</div></div><div style="font-style: normal; text-align: justify; "><br /></div>Lilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01454730582501928712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1466159919893424657.post-55538091974143279972012-02-21T01:53:00.001+08:002012-02-23T01:56:27.328+08:00vertirage<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">i</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase">When / you / strike / I / Walk away from those / Closest to me / This time you / came with the light / I am spun / by / you / Rabid / Rage / You / have no cure / I / walk into a bar / order a shot of tequila / There / Burning / Here / Calm / I / smile / nod / say “Thank you” / I am telling / you / to fuck off / As you make me / Walk once more with one arm / Held out / not quite touching the walls or posts / As you make me walk / With my hand twitching / for the discarded cane / or / the present / loving / hand /You / That makes me feel / so helpless</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size: 100%; text-indent: 0.5in; "><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: 0px;text-align: justify; "><span style="font-size: 100%; text-indent: 0.5in; "><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>ii</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase">I do not call / home to say / The god / damn thing / is back/ again / Help / You / Cannot go home / You / People / You / Lines /You make me / Want / to vomit<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>iii</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase">I / spinning / I walk / turn like with a stiff neck/ I sit / Down like a cadet/ Or a pregnant cadet/ Order / A bucket of beer / Let’s soothe / You / Demon / Go / Away / Go / Die / And leave / Me / Stay / Dead / For good / Please / Pills / prayers / Do not/ Work / Only this<o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><br /></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>iiii</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase">spin / Away / In the rain / Lost and on / my way/ Home / It is / too far / the honking cabs that are stopping / by / me are saying / I want to / snarl / You are / my salvation /But you will just / make me vomit / I / Hate / You<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>iiiii </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase">say/ What have they / Done / To you/ cry / Love / You take / Rage / You are / 7 inches / Taller than I / Am heavier than I / am / the bites / to the wrist / shoulder / the right / palm open / to the face / closing / to a fist / towards the nose / midway swings / to the chest / the heart / elbowed / the left hand / on you / jugular / you / tiptoe / to breathe / you say / kill me / i / laugh / say / i will not / if i want to / i would have broken / your trachea / and balls / w</span>hat have I done / I have been trained well / A killing rage / Is in place / Jesus Christ Woman / STOP //<span style="text-transform:uppercase"> <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="text-transform:uppercase"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p></div>Lilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01454730582501928712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1466159919893424657.post-41570908068379593542012-02-14T16:10:00.005+08:002012-02-15T18:51:52.060+08:00My Junkie Valentine<span class="Apple-style-span" style=" line-height: 16px; font-family:'lucida grande';font-size:11px;"><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Celebrate a day before, hold a vigil </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">until</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"> it’s midnight and now the day. I hated this day last year. And maybe always had. Another first, it feels like, this Valentine. A drink called Colombian Druglord. How could I resist that. Three of those. I’d like more “drug” in the “lord” please, ha ha, thanks darling. See, I say to Valentine---</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style=" line-height: 16px; "></span>We can all be very snooty to folks like servers. What I’ve found out through the years is that people do what you want them to do when you’re nicer. Look at the MMDA folks. Yeah man, they’re bribe-crocodiles. Scream their heads off and you’ll get nowhere. Now be charming and smile and say whether or not you’re guilty of the traffic violation like “Manong, I got my period eh so I’m in a rush.” Or “Manong, natatae na po ako eh, so puede…” Or “Manong, I need to go to the hospital”. Shit like that. And say thank you.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Look at the guards and the jeepney driver a while ago. When you get off, say thanks. Look at him. See that face light up and maybe smile and maybe you’ll hear the “You’re welcome”. Of course there’s the quick look that passes and says, “Is this alien for real?”</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style=" line-height: 16px; "></span>Valentine heckles, If you smile at folks, especially the guys in the MRT, they’ll probably ask you “Magkano?” Ha ha, I don’t look like a prosti, man. But hey it’s logical if some would probably think, “Oooooh yeah, this chick/dude digs me! Jackpot ampota.” Kapal naman ng mukha ko ‘di ba. Valentine says, If I smile at some guy I’d be mistaken for gay. Then I’d end up beating up someone. I laugh, shrug. There’s a smile that’s just a “Hi, Hello, Person, I’m freakin sunshine” smile. And not the “’Sup? Wanna get it on?” smile. It won’t hurt anyone, you know. They’re not furniture, you know.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style=" line-height: 16px; "></span>Valentine laughs and wishes that this thing worked when it came to people you love, people you’re in relationships with. Maybe if we had all done that then relationships and marriages that have failed wouldn’t have. Yeah, it’s difficult at times to see how mean we have become when you and I and love have become furniture through the years. It’s just there and years pass and we forget to work on it. Then love becomes as tedious as work. Then we’re just tired and it ends.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style=" line-height: 16px; "></span>Then who was once your life companion, this man you called boyfriend or husband or this woman you called girlfriend or wife, is now just somebody you used to know. Years with the person, all that time shared, now reduced to two people who don’t talk to each other, strangers, anger, resentment, then nothing. That is sad, you know.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style=" line-height: 16px; "></span>Valentine drawls, That’s how it is. To move on. No such thing as a good break-up you know. Yeah, I say, But that’s what we’re striving for--- grace in shit like that. We all wish we could be friends after but it all depends on how it ends. If in the end you just get cut off and that is like a scream halted. Your mouth is open, and there are tears of painful futility in your eyes, and no sound is coming out. No breath. Do you regret leaving your marriage?</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-family:'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif;font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style=" line-height: 16px; "></span>Valentine sighs, There are always days wherein I would ask if it was fair, if I had indeed done everything possible to save it and stay. But I had done everything, worked on it as best as I could, fought for it, and there I was still becoming more and more of a monster. I wanted to be happy. Time is precious, life is too damn short.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style=" line-height: 16px; "></span>Yeah, and sometimes you’d get called selfish or self-absorbed because you do the things that would make you happy. But hey, if someone wants to be happy and is unhappy with you then go. So you left. So he left. Women are not wired to leave commitments. We only leave when there’s the limit finally reached. As to what that is, only the woman would know. I do believe in marriage, something that I wouldn’t do lightly. I give that commitment and that’s til death do us part and I’d be playing it all straight.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style=" line-height: 16px; "></span>Valentine asks, So why didn’t you say yes to those who asked. I laugh, It’s the easiest question to answer they say. I didn’t say yes because they wanted to spend the rest of their lives with me but I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life with them. Couldn’t see it. I was younger too so I had yet to understand those things I knew. And my marital models were fucked up ha ha.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style=" line-height: 16px; "></span>Valentine nods, Yeah, that’s when I became a man, you know. When I would hear my parents arguing and one day I woke up and Mommy said to me that they’re going to separate. I was just a kid then. And there I was comforting my mother, keeping her together. I had to be the man. Marriage does not work. And I married because I had to, not because I wanted to. It had to be done and we do what is necessary. I tried. We tried.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style=" line-height: 16px; "></span>Models, I shake my head. How do you begin to believe another “I love you” again when the model of that proved to be untrue. How do you begin to say it and mean what it really means. I laugh, What does it mean now, hmmm? On this day, hah!</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style=" line-height: 16px; "></span>Valentine laughs and says that Valentine’s is not for making love or sex or whatever you would call it. It’s for spending time with the people you love. I laugh, remembering how Valentine had said “Love you” in a text conversation. Valentine just came from Caloocan. Now say “Caloocan” and Valentine and I would blare the chorus of Los Chupacabras’ “SA CALOOCAN… SA CALOOCAN…” History says the place is known for its supply of Meth.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style=" line-height: 16px; "></span>We don’t say I-love-you-shit like that to each other, comrades. I had sniped, “The fuck has Caloocan done to you?!” Valentine figured that there’s nothing wrong in telling people who matter to you that you love them. Well, shit, that made me blink. Yeah, we’re all too much of terse badasses.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">A song is playing. Valentine asks me to dance. No shit. Jesus fucking Christ it’s been years since I did this. Slow and sweet. No mozzarella shit. I heckle, So, does your hand on my hips make you want to pull me closer the way you felt with your high school prom date? Valentine laughs, Oh shut up.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style=" line-height: 16px; "></span>And Valentine says, I love you. I ask, Why? I was with a guy for years and he couldn’t answer that. Later on he said that he loved me the way a child would love parents. Valentine curses again.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><span style=" line-height: 16px; "></span>Valentine says I love you because you showed me that life is precious when you tried to kill yourself on my 19th birthday. I wanted to take care of you since then. I love you because you’ve always been there for me. I love you because you accept me. I love you because you respect my choices even if you don’t agree with them. I love you because you make me want to be a better person. I love you because I want to spend the rest of my life with you, no shit man. We are constants. I love you because you believe in the unconditional. I love you because I can’t stand being pissed off at you even when you do piss me off and I hate you. I love you because you’re my best friend… </span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And because Valentine is my best friend, asks the most difficult of questions like Does sex still make you feel dirty? I shrug, cry. Valentine wipes my tears. I say, It’s been so long since you were this sweet. Oh where have you gone oh sweetheart? I missed you like this.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Valentine cries, says, Sometimes we forget those who matter because of the things that need to be done. Thanks for reminding me. And remind me again when I turn into an asshole. I wipe Valentine’s tears and say that I hated this day last year. I couldn’t feel my heart then and only felt the hurt and lonely hearts around me. And it’s sad because I couldn’t even remember Valentine’s before that. Those many years. I remember the Valentine’s before that guy. I was with the ladies. And I didn’t like why this day all had to be such a big deal.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Valentine smiles, Did you know that Fratmen are supposed to wear dress shirts on this day. I laugh, No shit? And what are fratboys supposed to do? Give your sweethearts and crushes or the cutest girl you see a flower? I wouldn’t really know and that’s what I get for going to the abnormal college. Valentine laughs, I’m a romantic at heart. And you’re more jaded than I am. I say, Hell yeah and yes you are that’s why you like to sing.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Another song plays. I say, I’ve always liked this song and the movie. The mirror has two faces. You’ve seen that? Valentine says no, asks is that Bryan Adams? Yep, and Barbara Streisand. In the movie was Jeff Bridges. He was a mathematician and she was this spinster Literature professor. He had the idea of making a relationship work by taking out attraction from the love equation, love hurts and all that and he got burned. Blamed her for ruining their companionship because she no longer wanted a sexless and loveless equation. She left, turned herself into a hottie. He realized his mistake in time, was miserable, then he went after her. There, happily ever after.</span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></span></p><p style="text-align: justify;line-height: 16px; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; padding-top: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; font-size:11px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">And I begin to hum and I sing some lines. And I say to Valentine, I love you too. Valentine asks, How’s this day now? I say that seeing all that red no longer makes me feel like a bull. And on the way home, I look at the flowers waiting to be bought and delivered and the red and pink balloons and I find myself smiling. I say, It’s good that today people remember love and that hope. I feel my heart beating. It’s sweet.</span></span></p><div style="text-align: justify;"><br /></div></span>Lilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01454730582501928712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1466159919893424657.post-83509172938968732442012-02-07T21:45:00.000+08:002012-02-12T22:00:20.337+08:00Time Is Measured By Cars, Distance By Phones, Graves Always With Flowers<div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><b><o:p> </o:p></b></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b><o:p> </o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">An almost-decade-old blue car could be swapped quickly for the dream-car of college--- this ragged SUV. The SUV was gray but it should have been the green of the college dream. The blue car had certainly been through mileage--- the daily commute to offices, restaurants, bars, homes, vacations, and misadventures. The radiator had expired and there was no more air-conditioning. That couldn’t be fixed by adding more Freon. It had stains from sweat and drinks and tears. A dashboard kicked and pounded and punched by unhappiness. It had been to lonely and twisted escapes, these roads that should have not been taken, yet that’s the journey. For a time.</p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><o:p> </o:p></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Sell it. Time for a change. Whatever will make you happy. And changing cars could end in heartbreak.</p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><o:p> </o:p></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">It was a long time ago. Not so long ago. Marvel at times how much life has changed yet some things remained— like wanting and having used cars; like wanting to take care of a prostitute named “Bubbles” and to save her; or a gray SUV, second-hand (how many hands have been on those wheels), there owned and unused.</p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><o:p> </o:p></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">It comes more nowadays, the need to say “I’m sorry”.</p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><o:p> </o:p></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Unhappy. Was. </p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><o:p> </o:p></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">But someone did not deserve those things done.</p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><o:p> </o:p></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Carl Jung said that sometimes people have to do something unforgivable to go on living. Look at life now, there’s the sun, there’s the sunshine, and say--- How apt.</p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><o:p> </o:p></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">What is unforgivable? The sun had left the solar system because it was imploding. It had to choose to forsake all the planets otherwise it would have been the supernova that could’ve destroyed life, was destroying it. The sun, simply, wanted to be happy.</p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><o:p> </o:p></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Unforgivable? The sunshine that meant to be only for one sunflower but wanted to touch all sunflowers… Flowers that couldn’t resist but turn their faces and bodies to the sunshine--- their smiles. Sunshine burns, calls itself a habitual liar, a habitual fucker, with a conscience--- it is sad and feels horrible even as it burns.</p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><o:p> </o:p></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The sun and the sunshine--- both self-confessed unforgivable--- to go on living.</p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><o:p> </o:p></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">At past 2 am, there was a call to a phone. Unanswered. Two messages after, asking Where are YOU and identifying itself. Again, a call from the same number. Rejected. A message asking Why<i>. </i>The phone snarled that it was asleep and the fucker has got to be drunk or dying to be bugging it at that time.</p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><o:p> </o:p></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The message replied to the phone with Sorry<i> </i>and I am dead<i>. </i>Yes you are, the phone wanted to say. But there is chuckling in the phone’s head: You cruel, cruel, most cruel phone.</p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><o:p> </o:p></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i> <o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The phone replied: The dead don’t text, the fuck is wrong. It did not ask why the dead feels dead because it knew why. And there it was, like predictive settings, the message I lost everything. And all I can think about is you. Not because you can save me but because you are my life not in this lifetime.</p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><i><o:p> </o:p></i></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in">Sputter. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><o:p> </o:p></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in">Bull. Shit. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><o:p> </o:p></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Choice. Traitor. </p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><o:p> </o:p></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">…Real… Feelings… Survive…The…Test… Of…Cars…And… Phones...</p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><o:p> </o:p></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Dead. <st1:place st="on">Battery</st1:place>.</p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><o:p> </o:p></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">There’s a dead phone in the head: Oh lovers. Oh friends. Oh fuckers. Oh boozers. Oh buggers. Have we learned the lesson of being in the phonebook? </p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><o:p> </o:p></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The dead phone does not ask where you were when it was dying.</p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><o:p> </o:p></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in">There’s the sun. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><o:p> </o:p></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">It says to the sunflower to take off those clothes. Be held close and alive by it. The sun sinks into the sunflower’s pores. </p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><o:p> </o:p></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Too late motherfuckers. Too late. All dead. Ghosts haunted.</p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><o:p> </o:p></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Alive. Happy. Sunflower.</p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt: solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><o:p> </o:p></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Sunshine.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><i><o:p> </o:p></i></p>Lilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01454730582501928712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1466159919893424657.post-65369530473352551622012-01-31T23:53:00.001+08:002012-02-08T12:04:33.744+08:00Get it in 1<div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b>1.<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">As I awake and into the first smoke of Day 1, I resolved to do what makes me happy in the year that the world ends according to a calendar long dead. I commit to being happy and prepare to say “Fuck You All Normalcy”.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">On Day 1, at Mass, youngest sister cries in exasperation from her son’s stubborn demons. As we are all required to say “Peace Be With You”, youngest sister ignores her son’s “sorry” and says, “Sorry is not enough”.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">I shake my head as I smile, <i>There you go, Boy. Your lessons on How The Hell Do I Understand Women begins. </i>And you seriously don’t fuck with the baby of the family. You make her cry and you mess with all your mamas and papas--- you get the evil dagger looks from her <i>Ate</i>s and <i>Manoy</i>. Check Pops? He’s not pissed. He’s amused. Good.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">And being the only grandson, he sidles up to his grandmother who then hugs him. I shake my head and laugh, <i>Well, there’s your Mama and you know she will always be on your side and you know she’s the boss. The boy is smart. <o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i> </i> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b>Flashback to 12.25.2011</b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b><br /></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b><o:p> </o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">C’mon, stop watching TV coz it’s time for your bath. Your sisters are done. We’re going to Mass and we can’t be late.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">----But it’s still early! And why can’t the others go first?!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">Because the others are still doing something. There are many of us. There’s a schedule.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">---- But I’ll just sweat again!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">Then don’t move around so much. And you’ll hardly stink. C’mon.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">---- But you’re not listening to me!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">I hear you. You don’t have to shout.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">--- Why aren’t you listening to me?! I don’t want to take a bath yet!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">You have to take a bath now because there are four other people who will use the bathroom after you. It’s 4 already. The mass is at 5:30. I also have to get ready and I still have other things to do.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">---- I don’t want to take a bath yet! And why are you telling me what to do?! I’m not even your son!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><i>And there I lost my temper. I growl, “You’ve turned out into a brat. You do what I tell you to do. And you don’t get to talk to me like that. Nobody is allowed to talk to me like that. If you don’t want to take a bath, fine.” <o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><i>And I walked away, feeling like crying.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><i>Pops then exclaimed, “Oh, why is there no one minding the child? He can’t reach the switch for the shower heater.”<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><i>I answered back, “Let him be! Let him do it himself! We were all bathing ourselves at his age and minding other things!”<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><i>As I vent out my frustration via text to a friend. It gets like that, my friend said, especially when they’re getting older. It hurts, yes, but shrug it off.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><i>Pops was told by second sister about how I lost my temper. She had taken over supervising his bath, talked to him about not talking to me like that. He approached me after.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">---- Inay? Sorry po.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">‘Boy, I’m not your mom but I’m your second mom. I’ve been taking care of you since you’re a baby, since you were inside your Mommy’s tummy. To me, you’re my baby. That’s why you call me Inay. Don’t talk to me like that ever again, ok? And don’t talk to your Mommy that way.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><i>Because next time I just might beat the crap out of you. <o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><i>And I don’t want to do that.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><i>Ever.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><i>And because I don’t want to do that, there are switches to the heart turned so that it won’t care so much, won’t get so hurt.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">--- I love you, Inay.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">I love you too, baby. When you become a man, don’t make women cry so much, ok?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><i>And then I cried.</i> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><i><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><i><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b>1.<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b><o:p> </o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">On Day 1, at Mass, there is a creature in the ceiling of the Cathedral that looks like a giant bug, like the bugs in my room, like a huge zebra-striped leech. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">On Day 1, at Mass, we are asked what do we leave the house without? The Church says, “Jesus.” I say, “The cross?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">On Day 1, at Mass, beside me is Father sitting asleep. He wakes up and says, “Nobody dances the <i>Pastora</i> anymore.” A dance for the New Year, umbrellas and skirts decorated with flowers made of crepe or felt paper.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">On Day 1, at lunch after Mass, I am asked by my first niece, “Where is Itay?” She is quickly admonished by her brother, “Told you not to say that word!” He spells it out, like a bad word, which makes me laugh.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> </span>Here we go again. How to do this and get it finally over with?</i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>I blurt out, “He’s dead.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> </span>My niece is all wide-eyed and open-mouthed shocked, “HAH?!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>Oh shit. Oh shit. Is she gonna cry?! Oh shit.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>My nephew says, “Yay!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>I laugh.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>Father pipes in, “He’s buried.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>My niece asks, “Did he go to Heaven?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>I say, “People who are good go to Heaven they say. People who are bad go to Hell they say. There’s no more Purgatory, according to Vatican II in 2007. You can pray for him, if you like.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>Mother is all wide-eyed and open-mouthed shocked, “HAH?!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>I nod, “Yep. Limbo does not exist.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> </span>I ask youngest sister what she tells them whenever they ask about their second father. She says, “I tell them that he went abroad, far away, that he’s never coming back.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>I laugh, “We’ll, I told them that he’s dead, so there.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>Youngest sister slaps my arm, “HAH?!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>I laugh again, “Get with the program, bitch.” </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>I’ll deal with it when the time comes that they start on Facebook and find out that the dead is alive.</i> </p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i><br /></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p></div>Lilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01454730582501928712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1466159919893424657.post-58704487211315388862011-12-28T11:51:00.004+08:002012-01-03T11:00:27.557+08:00If You’re Filipino And You Want To Publish A Novel (and maybe your other stuff) In The International Market Send Them To:<div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><b>Jayapriya Vasudevan<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center">Literary Agent</p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center">+65 9362 4559</p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><a href="mailto:jay@jacaranda-press.com">jay@jacaranda-press.com</a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><st1:street st="on"><st1:address st="on">331 River Valley Road</st1:address></st1:street> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center">09-03 Angsana Lobby 1</p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center">Yong An Park</p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><st1:place st="on"><st1:country-region st="on">Singapore</st1:country-region></st1:place> 238363</p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><b>Priya Doraswamy<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center">Literary Agent</p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center">+1 973 379 4185</p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><a href="mailto:priya@jacaranda-press.com">priya@jacaranda-press.com</a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><st1:street st="on"><st1:address st="on">39 Delwick Lane</st1:address></st1:street></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Short Hills</st1:city>, <st1:state st="on">NJ</st1:state> <st1:postalcode st="on">07078</st1:postalcode></st1:place>. <st1:country-region st="on"><st1:place st="on">USA</st1:place></st1:country-region></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">These two ladies from Jacaranda are hands-on and pretty sweet. They were the ones who signed FH Batacan for her next novel. They like crime/suspense/adventure thrillers but they’ll read anything. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">You can also send your other obras to the dude who found and edited “House of Sand and Fog” (yes it’s a book where that movie with the same title starring Ben Kingsley and Jennifer Connelly is based, excellent depressing stuff):</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><st1:place st="on"><b><br /></b></st1:place></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><st1:place st="on"><b><br /></b></st1:place></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><st1:place st="on"><b>Ravi</b></st1:place><b> Mirchandani<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><b>Editor-In-Chief<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center">Direct Line: (+44)- (0)20 7438 1202</p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center">Fax: 020 7430 0916</p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><a href="mailto:ravimirchandani@talantic-books.co.uk">ravimirchandani@atlantic-books.co.uk</a></p> <p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center">Ormond House, <st1:address st="on"><st1:street st="on">26-27 Boswell Street</st1:street>, <st1:city st="on">London</st1:city> <st1:postalcode st="on">WC1N 3JZ</st1:postalcode></st1:address></p><p class="MsoNormal" align="center" style="text-align:center"><st1:address st="on"><st1:postalcode st="on"><br /></st1:postalcode></st1:address></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><st1:place st="on">Ravi</st1:place>’s inclined towards immigrant stories but he also reads everything. And yes, he passed on Miguel “Chuck” Syjuco’s Masturbatory Illustrado.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Onto the Next Great Philippine Novel Without The Writer/Artist/Musician As The Protagonist!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">And this portion is brought to you by The Caring Is Sharing Bears and especially dedicated to Katrina Stuart Santiago and all the those who would have wanted to attend the Great Philippine Book Café (Manila International Literary Festival) but could not afford the 2000/3days php package. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">And especially to all the Filipino writers who did not get the endorsements from the Filipino literary /publishing (Grand)Papas and (Grand)Mamas therefore did not get to meet/greet the folks above.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">And to those who did: BAT AYAW NIYONG MAG-SHARE NG INFO? AYSUS! SO SELF-NAMAN YOU!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">[Better late than never, ano ba chica, I have a life and I didn’t move to facebook, so Merry Patawad!] </p></div>Lilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01454730582501928712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1466159919893424657.post-25583524023690050182011-11-27T11:46:00.003+08:002011-11-27T11:56:44.877+08:00It’s Sunday and I dance to Faderhead’s “The Way To Fuck God”<div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b>Wondered<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">what would break the space here</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">a song of course</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">dancing to the dark heart</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b>Beating<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>the aging mares, one with a slash</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>now a scar, another with a cigarette burn to the wrist</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>now a scab, Pandora opening her box</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>this decade of brokenness returning to “living”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>she says it feels like</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>drowning, to breathe</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>a gift, remember ‘domestic danger’</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>and Dove, you are my best miracle</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b>Honeybunch<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">almost 33, making this cry for high school</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">two friends lost to the States--- my <i>Mahal</i>--- and Down Under</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">heavier with husband and children</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">we talked while she was on the train </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">to home from the job to jobs</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">of wife and mother, woman</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">too young to be a sexless husk</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:.5in;text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">writing another invisible letter</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b>Wife, Mr. Imperfect<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:1.0in;text-align:justify;text-indent: .5in">is maybe that sock we’ll tie on doorknobs</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:1.0in;text-align:justify;text-indent: .5in">in that future compound of cool spinsters, </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:1.0in;text-align:justify;text-indent: .5in">full-time aunts and nannies, randy</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:1.0in;text-align:justify;text-indent: .5in">the Bust-a-man-‘<i>teh</i> who said in ’99 that it’s not Perfect</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:1.0in;text-align:justify;text-indent: .5in">mister to our miss to become missus accepting the man</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:1.0in;text-align:justify;text-indent: .5in">of imperfections, the argument between “is” and “should be”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><st1:city st="on"><b><br /></b></st1:city></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><st1:city st="on"><b>Chico</b></st1:city><b> <st1:place st="on">Cher</st1:place><o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>counsel, the affidavit of loss</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>the police reports, the crime scene, the autopsy</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> </span>of that narrative will trickle like guilty blood</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> </span>into your honor, that laughter</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> </span>of your generous unscarred tissue</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b>Did not fuck Wao<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:1.0in;text-align:justify;text-indent: .5in">fucked my brain</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:1.0in;text-align:justify;text-indent: .5in">the blood of Sto. Domingo</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:1.0in;text-align:justify;text-indent: .5in">calling to the blood of <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Santiago</st1:city></st1:place>, San Roque, San Nicolas</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:1.0in;text-align:justify;text-indent: .5in">unto the monsters visible in the mirror</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:1.0in;text-align:justify;text-indent: .5in">the triggers of “fuck you” and the dirty finger</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:1.0in;text-align:justify;text-indent: .5in">of childhood cheated, the cheaters</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b>Babe, You want Me <o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:1.0in;text-align:justify;text-indent: .5in">in the light</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:1.0in;text-align:justify;text-indent: .5in">sure there is the light and the light is good </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:1.0in;text-align:justify;text-indent: .5in">but this will never be all good</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:1.0in;text-align:justify;text-indent: .5in">and there is always the dark</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:1.0in;text-align:justify;text-indent: .5in">and this tap dances in the dark</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="margin-left:1.0in;text-align:justify;text-indent: .5in">around the light, through the light </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b>Baby, We Fuck<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:1.0in"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>the forms, the norms</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:1.0in"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>the rage, the war</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:1.0in"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>against the machines that we have</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:1.0in"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>become</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b>Turning Jesus, Chagrin<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>in older and screwed over</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>isn’t it all better and happier</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> </span>remember the dozen (was) over and (is) over</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>–<i>ch, </i>a grin</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b>Geek’s Tragic Spine<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b></b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>Kurt Cobain apologizes</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>for disappearing like vaporized chicken </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>into the book of assholes</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b><o:p> </o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b><o:p> </o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b><o:p> </o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b>Slow, That Hello<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b></b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>when “independent” is displaced in “indie”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>by the egos of “aesthetics”, goes the flow</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>of cliques and clicks of flashes uploaded,</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>downgrading the songs of the soul</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>into this boogie of mayday! mayday!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>singing the blues of the future</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>or Eeeric the Penguin’s Opera</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>rapping <i>tarushbigongmama</i> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b>Butterfly, now Colleen<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b></b><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>searched and searched and found</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>in songs for a child now nine</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>my first godchild, wearing yellow</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>(that abomination I too would burn)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>missed you and cried for missing years</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>understanding the silence of the heart’s</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>courtesy, a lady is a matter of changing</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>Paul to Paula, the chromosomes of “i” to “ee”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b>So, Jarek Nahir Esquela<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>if you would pause from nursing boys </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> </span>and older dudes who want to clip your bullet wings, </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>come dance with this Jesus Mama and let my flytrap eat</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">you </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span> </span>(i’m hearing your cackling <i>Mommyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy</i>!) </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>run, you little bi/tch all grown up now </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>and around those bloody sugarcane fields </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Levi</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span>run. back. to mom-me. <b> <o:p></o:p></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p></div>Lilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01454730582501928712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1466159919893424657.post-27134454714013402352011-10-08T17:58:00.000+08:002011-10-08T17:59:36.333+08:00In The News<div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I don’t look at the news. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Perhaps it was because for years and years I was with the human filter of the news, my own newspaper man. And one of our daily conversation pieces--- back when we used to talk--- was the news that would be uploaded for the day. There was no need for the newspaper for the newspaper was picking me up everyday from school or from wherever I was. My newspaper got tired of the news and they simply became the 5 W’s and How of factoids.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I remember though one instance wherein we were somewhere--- probably dinner in some restaurant or my house--- when 9/11 happened. There we were speeding back to the newspaper headquarters…I fell asleep in the car while waiting. It was hours, after midnight, almost dawn, there was class the next day.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I hated the news. It was a mistress of some sort that could take my daily newspaper man away from me. And the news took almost 8 years of his life, a life that he was only vicariously living even as life was happening and he was only reporting it. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span> </span><span> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">And for 2.5 years I did not have time to even skim through the news online or whatever else people were goggling online. They were all like bullets just bouncing off an exhausted body that had become impervious to “news”: </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Who:<span> </span><st1:place st="on">PING</st1:place>!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">What:<span> </span><st1:place st="on">PING</st1:place>!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">When:<span> </span>PING!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Where:<span> </span>PING!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Why:<span> </span>PING!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">How:<span> </span>PING!</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I would instead ask randomly the people I was teaching the top 3 national and international news for yesterday or the day (which was part of their daily assignment). I listened. I was just tired of the same shit of news on a different day of news.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Weeks ago while it was Father’s turn to be my companion, I would ask him if he was going to watch the 6:OO news on TV everyday while I would be preparing dinner. He would just say no and continue to read whatever book while lying down on the brown couch. One night he said, “What’s the point? It’s the same thing.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I had laughed, “Exactly my point.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The same point I had raised when my own Flower Man had berated me about being ignorant of the news months ago. Everyday for years I would see Father, Mother, and then Brother reading the newspaper. When I was younger I would automatically pick up the newspaper when Father’s done reading it. Nowadays the news is only for weekends. It’s still Brother who would read it cover to cover, including The Economist.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Yesterday while waiting for the affidavit of loss to be done I had asked the girl by the counter if they had a newspaper. She handed me one in Filipino. I sat down and read it:</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">P-NOY and the new ship for the <st1:place st="on"><st1:placename st="on">Spratly</st1:placename> <st1:placetype st="on">Islands</st1:placetype></st1:place> dispute… More corruption… Ah, July 3 was the day of La Liga Filipina… More bible quotes… More advice about love… Same old…Shit.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The girl was wondering if <i>Madam</i> could actually understand the language. I said, “Tang ina naman oo.” Yes, Madam was not in a good mood obviously. Yes, because Madam could not be away from her Mother’s side for so long, reduced again to a child, fretting.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">So what’s in the news?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">One of my little brothers happily relayed with an exclamation mark that <b><span style="font-size:14.0pt">he finally has a job</span> </b>and that we will see each other on his payday with an exclamation mark…</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Most, if not all, <b><span style="font-size:14.0pt">husbands are really philandering bastards</span></b>…</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">My devout Catholic Mother has said, “There <b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt">should be divorce in this country</span></b>…”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">We are so <b><span style="font-size:14.0pt">grateful that I did not get married</span></b>…</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">There are still a lot of <b><span style="font-size:14.0pt">asshole thesis advisers </span></b>in the University of the <st1:place st="on"><st1:country-region st="on">Philippines</st1:country-region></st1:place>…</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">How did a girl survive elementary, high school, and life with a last name such as <b><span style="font-size:14.0pt">Supsup…</span></b><i><o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">And in Barili <b><span style="font-size:14.0pt">thin ropes are effective</span></b>: </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b><span style="font-size:18.0pt">13-year-old honor pupil hangs self<o:p></o:p></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b><span style="font-size:16.0pt"><o:p> </o:p></span></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I slept to that opened tab.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I woke to that opened tab.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i>Look at that.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i>That’s just fucked up.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i>And that’s the trending news.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US; mso-bidi-language:AR-SA"><span> </span><span> </span><span> </span></span></div>Lilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01454730582501928712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1466159919893424657.post-7718342506332042292011-10-05T19:59:00.002+08:002011-10-05T20:04:04.958+08:00Rilke, Sparta, Women, Warriors, False Prophetess on “Losing Everything”, Saturation Babe<div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Drown, you say.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I tell my mother today that it was only yesterday that I understood what “let go” means since I began hearing it 12 years ago. In rehab, it’s followed by “Let God”. And I would always say “Fuck that shit.” I needed to be in control because if I weren’t I would have spent everyday killing myself. And when I lost control 12 years ago, there I was killing myself everyday. That was Hell. I lived it. And I didn’t want to return to it.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">As for God </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I killed God. I killed the one I loved the most. He said, “Really now?” when he found out that I was once a very devout catholic. Oh yes, I laughed, so devout that you’d find me in church almost every afternoon, praying. That first Thursday of the month for confessions. That first Friday mass. That First Saturday of Obligation. And all the Sundays. Everyday was a Sunday.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">And What Did I Pray For</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I prayed everyday for all my loved ones, I said to my sister the other day when we talked about prayers being read in Fatima when our other sister was in <st1:place st="on">Europe</st1:place>. And in my heart, unsaid, I would pray for God to end it all. Yet I hoped.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">When Did You Want To Die</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">At 6 years old. Since then. Still, there was hope. And faith in God that it would all be all right. I died just before I turned 21.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">And You’ve Been Dead Since</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">He says, “What do you call that again--- That thing that you---” and points to his own heart and mimes the shock.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I say, “That. Electric Shock? Uhmm… What the hell do you call that again…” <i>With the paddles…<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">He says, “Yeah, that.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I ask, “Why?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">He nods, smiles, “Let’s go…Let’s get your heart shocked…Because it’s dead. You don’t have a fucking heart.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I laugh, “My, my, when the fuck did you figure that out? Because nobody really could.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">He smiles, “A long time ago, Babe. You’re dead… A zombie…”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I do not say, “Nah…Perhaps an automaton.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I smile, “It’s not dead.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">He mimes a minute regular heartbeat with his forefinger and thumb, “Not even enough for circulation.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I once had written that I felt it cut out of me a long time ago. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">And maybe…I was the one that did the cutting.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Saturation, Babe, he says.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">“Your mind, Babe, I wouldn’t even want or dare to take a crack at it. That’s where they all made a mistake. Nobody can fuck with your mind. Everything’s a mental exercise with you after all…But your heart…You have to let your heart feel…Just feel… Let go… You cannot control everything…”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">And so there it was--- I have not allowed myself to feel the past year. Perhaps for a long time. Unnatural, inhuman, and admirable, they said. Biting me right in the ass now.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I smile, “Will you be my heart?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">He smiles, “No, you gotta have your own.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">One Deep Red Cut</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">It was not so much as I want to kill myself. It was hate at myself. It was pain--- here in my heart--- that I did not want to feel so the pulse bled instead. I know knives. And so there is a cut that’s deep and it would be one’s choice to get it sewn together or not.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">He said, “Hi Babe…” and kissed that red line and kissed it again, like kissing a child’s wound to make it better. He hissed. It had hurt to see him more hurt.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i>Never again</i>, Never again.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Bit and Lost it</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">So one night I lost my bag. No, I walked out on my bag. Then ran from it. Then walked. Then ran. Then walked. Away. Nothing left--- no wallet, ID’s, passport, phones, journal, books, flash drives with everything from work since jobs began, music player… Too tired to make a list.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">And it all doesn’t matter. I don’t feel like it’s a disaster. I simply let go. And I feel like such a newborn. And this morning once I woke up and saw my Mother I cried.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I cry as I smile, “Mommy, I’m allowing myself to feel. It hurts.”</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p></div>Lilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01454730582501928712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1466159919893424657.post-82528925716081264292011-09-03T21:52:00.002+08:002011-09-03T21:58:24.604+08:003, Talking To Picasso<div>
<br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">The simmering day had become a wind bringing chill.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I had woken nauseated and so the departure had yet again been postponed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Moving like an old woman, bent and slow and with each step the world spins.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Mimicked by Sister, I laughed as I stumbled.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I was asked to lie down in bed, coaxed to nap here and there, unable to sleep</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">In the heat, saying no to air-conditioned oxygen, flipping the channels instead, the nausea <span> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Is like the sweat that mixes with water seconds after another shower.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I say “I love you” to Mother as she cares for me the way she does for her mother.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I think that this reversal of roles once again is always.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">I had woken weeping about the dead. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Remembered more so this month, the days counted.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Talked to Mother about it as she rubbed my back and gave me a white wash cloth </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">For my tears running unchecked down my cheeks like the shower.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">She said “I wish I could take your pain”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">While I hiccupped about what would cure a heart that understands why it’s broken.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>That was this morning.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>That was this afternoon.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>That was before this evening.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Now I move without sound.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>My back straight once more.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Frail as the old.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Forlorn as the young.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I stand up now and ask Father “Do you have Scotch?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">As I look at his rows of bottles</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">He says “There, my Chivas.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I say as I pull out a liter “I’ll take this.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">He says “That’s brandy. <i>La na ka uban</i>.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I say “Even better.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I take out the special brandy glasses and ask the nanny for ice for the Coke.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I pour for the dead and the just dead.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I sip.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent:.5in">I would offer you a sip but it might kill you.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Notice how the simmering day had become a night that is chill.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Do you notice that one smells the rain before it comes?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">You and I are looking at the night sky, watching dark become darker</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The wind now coming and the air becomes biting</p> <p class="MsoNormal">There is lightning but no thunder.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Unlike earthquakes that sound like thunder before they come.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>There are beeps of messages and the phone finally rings.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">From the news.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">They speak as if I can’t hear them--- <i>Nagpaparabura---<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal">They say that I am crying and crying.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Now there is thunder.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>You and I are waiting for the rain.</p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Maybe then the tears would stop.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">They all tell me that I have to hush and to stop crying.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">It hurts them.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>You sit on my feet.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>70 years old and the baby.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">I never had to worry about walking with you when you were a baby.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I would even drive with you to school and you and your brothers would walk with me</p> <p class="MsoNormal">In the halls of UP, Mang Manny giving you bottled water for free.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">You were the last to be taken out of our home and taken to this home.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I could not easily part with you.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">You were always trying to escape from here.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">They say to return to me and I was very far away.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Mother had to bail you out of jail here almost everyday when you were younger.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Driving you home, you in the backseat, being given a litany.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Then she would call me and say “Your son!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Mother and Father would call me about your brothers “Your sons!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>You sit on my feet.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Your weight leaning on my leg.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Guarding always.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>They look at us.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We are unmoving.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Except for my hand on your head.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Except for the tears.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Do you remember Mo?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Big head, saucer paws. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">Christened Monet, passed away when Iman was just born.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">It was Christmas when I returned and found out.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I had gathered you and your brothers close to me in the garage.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And it was just like this.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">Do you remember Whiner?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">The runt and liked taking bread from the hands of Malachai and Iman.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">He was really Da Vinci and we tried calling him Davi.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">It never took. </p> <p class="MsoNormal">He was your Uncle Emil’s baby and favorite of Mommy, even Ate.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">He just disappeared not so long ago.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Kidnapped and Father was sighing and kept looking.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Sister had kept on searching, knowing how it would end in this.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Exactly again like this.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>And now your brother Van.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Christened Van Gogh.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Father’s favorite.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">He had once jumped out of the van en route to <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Santiago</st1:place></st1:city>.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Father was upset and searched and searched until he found him near the fire station.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span> </span>Or was that Mo?</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Maybe. Van also once went missing, following one of the cars and unnoticed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">Father went so quietly angry. Got drunk that night. Angrier when Van returned the next morning while he hugged him. Your brother was a chicken shit when it came to the sound of fireworks. The only one who would have to be brought inside the house during holidays. Last new year’s eve, he was all over me on the bench in the garden. I had laughed and he seemed to be laughing too. There was a picture.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>A couple of nights ago he sat with me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Just like you are doing so now.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>We had talked. </p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Father had said his name just after Angelus…</p> <p class="MsoNormal">There is something about how a name is said like a question hesitant</p> <p class="MsoNormal">And you know that the name is dead.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I heard and I ran and said “No…No…No…”</p> <p class="MsoNormal">He looked like he was just asleep.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I called his name.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Your brother just died.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>And I want to tell your father.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Van was his favorite, too.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>But I can’t.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>My boy is dead.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>It’s just you and me now.</p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Just you and me.</p> <span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:"Times New Roman";mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";mso-ansi-language:EN-US;mso-fareast-language:EN-US; mso-bidi-language:AR-SA"><span> </span></span></div>Lilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01454730582501928712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1466159919893424657.post-75661058285617882752011-09-02T11:49:00.002+08:002011-09-02T11:54:17.645+08:002, of Gray Sun<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">Awakened, the green snakes all over the body--- </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Which have become like knotted wires from exhaustion that only now while on pause the body begins to feel as if it were a comforter over it in this humidity. Robbed of strength from all the grown babies that had suckled blood unto its decay--- </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Robbed of strength? No, no, given up like when one feels that knife on the side and the knife asking for the wallet and the cell phone. The body thinks “This is to help this motherfucker” instead of fighting and risking more pain than just that prick.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The soul though knows that what would kill the body would enrich it and perhaps set it free. Foolery. What the body wanted was for the knife to go deeper, dared it every time in an elaborate suicide.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify;text-indent:.5in">On the second time, that finger deep in the navel three times---</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Each time, the body bowed down and up and down. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Each time, deeper. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Each time, the body sinking into the bed to escape. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The breath gasping, panting, swallowing the guttural groans. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">It tells itself to take shallow breaths for the breath inhaled from the pelvis that would last six seconds would grant entry to that finger. And it can pierce the button and pull the intestines out--- that one, long, red snake. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The <i>manghihilot </i>clucks and clucks and then nods, telling the body to go limp and to trust… Relax…To feel the spine being ripped to the sound of cracks…Relax… To the neck being snapped…Relax…The body laughed in shock. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Relieved from the arguments with that mad room---</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Grief soaked in gin, these two bodies in a vacuum for whom this body in the South frets and frets--- the green snakes coiling tighter--- that room of air and light now in mourning.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The vacuum has become a black hole that snarls, “You do not understand for you have not experienced this kind of loss”. The body raises its eyebrows at the fallacy of experiential truth. And somewhere there is a memory of a magazine that said that dynamites to arguments would be sentences like those.<i> <o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The body is then called Hitler. It is being backhanded with slaps for its calls for restraint--- for finally unto snapping to a warrior<i> The dead has been dead for two years and how long will you keep on crying like a watusi pussy and drive all who love you away in your teenage college angst</i>--- for its absence.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Two bodies drowning in gin and they want to take this body with them. Onto grace, the body apologizes, owns up to the hurt words have caused, says that pain is inevitable but suffering is a choice, and so withdraws its presence and keeps its silence.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">It is September and the body refuses to be a punching bag of love. And it is no longer Catholic after all.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>And the tornado relents----</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The body sends a poem from Saturday which is received with “It is fucking depressing.” The tornado is in a black mood, had cursed its mother, sick of everything, feeling like wanting to get drunk and screwing the ugliest whore.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The body mirrors the language, that matter-of-fact tone about drunken fucking with condoms and driving safely, surfacing in the radar once more in the single market---a word in German--- <i>Weltschmerz---</i> the tornado then thinking of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern--- and so there is accord. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">And so in the black mood there is laughter as they speak of plain tickets to places where they don’t want to be and remember September from 30 years ago, 25 years ago, a year ago, and then September now.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">These reminders of the first loves, the first marriages and look at where it has all ended--- life now. The tornado then tells the body that it misses it, even if it’s an absolute pain in the neck. The body laughs--- pain in the ass, neck, balls--- your friend.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The green snakes all over the body warm---</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">To the gray sun, the body sits and watches the sky from between <i>Santol</i> leaves, so close to it when it is seen from the ground here and not from a tower there. The scattered nimbus clouds are almost pearl white and the light does not make the eyes squint.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The body wonders if it would just experience it or would remember it then as it happens in ink. The body sits, the green snakes all over warming, and reads what was sent to it--- </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span></span><i><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>I don’t want to tame you at all<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>But I need some calm<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Or you will bring chaos<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i><span></span><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>Reigning down on your head…<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">And the body laughs, sends the Sonnet 121 of a dead man as a letter </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">At exactly 3:10 of Peter Gabriel’s <i>My Body Is A Cage.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span> </span></p></div>Lilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01454730582501928712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1466159919893424657.post-41937434259575344862011-09-01T09:50:00.004+08:002011-09-01T12:03:42.446+08:001, of Dreams<div> </div><div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Today the note “La” woke up and said that it had the strangest dream---</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">What has been dead had returned and I had welcomed it home.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The note “La” does not know what to think, gives me a hug.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I say--- It is the first day of September and the countdown is leaking.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Cheers.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Last night there was a vigil for hair.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">And somewhere was a vigil for a mother who’s been dead for five days.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">And somewhere was a vigil for a wife who’s been dead for 10 months.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">And somewhere was a vigil for a father who’s been dead for 2 years.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The vigils await my return.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The womb is still in pain from their grief, waiting to bleed it all out.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Cheers.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Last night there was a vigil for hair that has kept memories.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Cut and cut and cut, a bottle of light for each cut.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">And I circled the house the way I had the night I first died.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">And Mother was following me around just like that night.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I say “I’m fine” just like that night.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I say “I accept that I will be alone” last night.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Cheers.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Circles and sips of memories calling the Devil. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The Devil had come and watched me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I said “What a twisted way to be reminded to say hello…Hello.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The Devil said “It’s because you kissed me (t)here…Hello.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I laughed “It was the other way around.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The Devil said “Liar.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I laughed “I’m not the lawyer here. I only speak the truth.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">And the dwarf from Moulin Rouge then was singing, with elephants.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I thought “I want to toke the joke.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Cheers.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I said to Mother and Child “The money has to go somewhere. See I don’t have plans.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I will work and work and work.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I will spend and spend and spend.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Never on myself except perhaps on the nails cut and the hair cut and the skin cut.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The Child said “What about life plans?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I said “Not now. Too soon. Not now.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The Child said “You are Father’s youngest now.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I said “And you he loves the most. Now your children.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Cheers. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The Devil had the same dream for two nights not so long ago.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The Devil said “What are you doing in my dreams?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">It is not a good place for you, get out, for both times you did not make it.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I said “When it is time, my time, you do know that you have to let me go?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The Devil said that it knows.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Cheers.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The Dolphin had a dream not so long ago.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">It said “We were on a pick-up. He was there. He left a finger mark on your back. I was wiping it in the rain.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Then another dream of another ‘he’ “We were drinking, laughing, talking.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Triangles.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Cheers.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The Sign “D” had a dream not so long ago.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">It said “Don’t freak out but the other night I dreamt that you were married.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I said “The fuck is it with you folks and the universe that you all have been dreaming?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Cheers.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I said to the Child “You were always meant to stay here.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The Child said “The City scares me.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I said “I told Mother that I would have been content to stay here but who I am, what I am, is meant for the outside.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I heard the children and smiled.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I saw the children and laughed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I said to the Child “Your children saved you.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Cheers.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The Warrior had a dream that began a long time ago.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">It has begun to come true.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The Warrior said “Cheers. No more cryptic messages please. I don’t want to spend what little energy I have deciphering them.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Cheers.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Last night and today awake the scales say that it had a dream.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">It said “How then can you trust another ‘I love you’ again?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">There was an old woman with the touch who said to Mother while she had her finger deep in my navel “If she will bear a child then the man has to be of the same blood.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Mother said “Same blood type?”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I said “No, Mother, blood of this land.” </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">It was just a dream.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I wake up humming Grace.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">And cheers.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span> </span></p></div>Lilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01454730582501928712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1466159919893424657.post-64908211254100510762011-08-15T22:58:00.002+08:002011-08-16T00:59:27.149+08:00More Than A Year From A Dated Corridor<div>
<br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b>- 5 Chills and Sore<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Was it two our four am? She was feeling chilled--- sweat cooled and the wind was cold. Shivering, the fan off and huddling under the blanket, she felt her body complain--- It was just sex--- The body reaching for an orgasm, almost refusing entry; It had hurt and its protests were unheard. The body found itself responding more to mouth and hands. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I shake my head--- What foolery. While I--- I refuse to divulge my secrets, silent once more. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">“I don’t know what you’re thinking…”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The body is there but I am not; the mind thinking of the end, here it is, at last, the last. Her womb recoils, stretched, and now moans its soreness. But, but, there was a moment--- clothed and curled into each other, she had felt like being home, returning.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Still, it was stolen time--- I said: A sunset that lasts through the night. Before, she had wished that they could stay in that room and they would be happier people. Still, the morning always comes--- I said--- This time, nostalgic and poignant, the end.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Her body protests and my heart is saddened.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b>
<br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b>+2 Courtship<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b><o:p> </o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">On rum, finally, I spin and do not recognize the scribbles of the pen. Half-naked, I spin, like the fan in the ceiling. I am watching my heart spin and my heart spins, connecting tangents, mouth numb. I snap the fingers that become numb--- I snap ligaments and muscles--- These, my flesh. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I am watching--- witnessing--- my ligaments break. I watch mouths talk. Fuck--- Verbal---Not even a dance, just tiptoes, a damned tip.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">“When I’m drunk,” she says, “I’m in another world.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b>
<br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b>+7 Ticking<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">A back held--- over a name uttered by a loner in this room, “Allan,” I say. And hands open--- still, I think about honor. I think about honor in the past 12 years—You--- Who could have been (and whom I could have taught many things, you said). I am here, alone as if I weren’t. And now I think of you. I would like to thrum--- like a string--- and I wait. I have been waiting for 12 years--- time, in your time. I count back always what you don’t remember. But I do. I drink as if my other half is not here, as if I weren’t alone--- as always: </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">A juvenile singing of thwarted love.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b>
<br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b>+ 8 Non-membership<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Another baptism, another vicarious stint as a godparent, I rekindle ties and smiles that have gone stale in time. Still there is that cord connecting 12 years and after. Now we are the only ones without wedding or honeymoon or pregnancy or birth or baptism or birthdays.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">There is two, as always, in our pictures; the unlikeliest ones combined. I begin to feel like the lone bachelor in this group of letters. I think about other lone letters and names--- Do they feel this? Do they even feel… I remember how cold we had seemed for years: oblivious except to our paths and arrows. I now remember my wishes and why there are always bubbles.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I---</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Think about promises made and unmade by time, broken in time. Yet, in silence, keep mine. There are so many--- like the unspoken vow I made at 10 years old onwards. This friendship rendered impossible except when we’re in bubbles--- What has become of us, dear friend? That we cannot even be friends…</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Or---</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">That when friends marry or have families, I cease to exist, becoming foregone matter unless the real becomes hell. I piece you all together and I open my palms to set you free. They remain open for your coming, now and then, when I am remembered--- usually when your pain almost becomes a shadow that has a heartbeat. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Then---</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Someone always comes: a boy or a woman in the cusp of what would mould the soul, wreaking these stings. Like this boy lost--- young Brutus becoming a brute to his wife. Or a goddess feeling the mortality of love, another fatality. Or what once was a stunted woman now blooming like a flower in her sculptures.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Then time interrupts.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">“I don’t know what you’re thinking…”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Each time I wanted to say, “I no longer want to love you.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b>
<br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b>++Now<o:p></o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">It is but just a dance, hola <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Chico</st1:place></st1:city> mi amigo. I wield the ligaments of my fingers so well, thank you. They were rapped by books and rulers and teachers since I was 10. I counted thirteen times I broke them. Just thirteen in almost 5 years and yet remembered.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Understand that when I look at the dance floor now, in paper or visible space, I want to make the cha-cha into a tango and the mambo into the samba until two-left feet can dance.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">So that if one scorpion that is a mirror-image of my tornado says to my <i>You’re a Black Gigantor </i>, “No such robot. There’s only one Gigantor.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I say, “I’ll write using a <i>Black Gigantor</i> and that makes it real/factual according to Mr. Google.”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I stick my tongue out and then there’s laughter (while the tornado is pissed).</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">
<br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p></div>Lilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01454730582501928712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1466159919893424657.post-47104564257136770682011-07-15T22:02:00.001+08:002011-07-15T23:10:55.999+08:005CJ&ODDZ<div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">When I was in Grade 1 we had a white fluffy puppy. His name was Yen, just a couple of months old and born on New Year. A dog from the neighborhood bit his forehead. Perhaps it was rabies or just infection but the wound had become a puncture of pus. Yen kept on crying the way babies would cry when sick. Only difference is these were animal <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">cries</i>…The way sometimes we see people crying like animals. That <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">sound</i>. I had lifted his forehead and tried to make him drink a Wyeth antibiotic. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">In the province, in Naga in the ‘80s, there were really no animal clinics…Animal clinics like children’s clinics… So there I was crying, a child crying like an animal. Mommy had come out into the backyard and looked at me, asked, “Why are you crying?” I had ignored her, thinking that she was a cold-hearted idiot the way I had always thought of her at that age and even years after. She knew, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">felt</i>, that her alien child--- too intelligent and knowing--- thought that.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">She left me alone. I watched and stayed with Yen until he died. He was screaming and then the scream was just cut off. And after I never touched another animal again. Though I had buried Ribbon--- our cat--- in our backyard when she died years after. I don’t remember if she was run over or a snake had bitten her. I would put flowers I would pick from the subdivision on her grave everyday. I had buried her and she was still soft. I had buried Yen, too. He had still felt soft.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">When Brownie, my dad’s dog, died years later of old age, Daddy was the one who buried him. I had watched Brownie die and sat by him as he was dying--- made him drink water when he could no longer move and was gasping. One day I woke up and he was no longer there. They did not say but Daddy took care of the body. Brownie whom I had cradled and kept calm in that jeepney when we moved to Naga from Iriga. Brownie whom I and my siblings had resented when he would get home faster than we did when Daddy would whistle for us to come home from playtime with the neighborhood kids. Daddy would beat us if were late. Brownie who had recognized Daddy first before we did when he finally came home from the States just after the ’86 Revolution.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">We stopped having pets after... After Mel-May died and there was even a Blackie. No cats either, those cats that would sleep on top of the TV and swing their tails in front of the screen. We stopped having pets and those were the most violent of years and the violence is still remembered by me.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Until 2001 in our apartment in Masikap and it was a Saturday and there was a stray mix Spitz dog whom nobody seemed to own. Daddy had knocked on doors down the street onto the next and the next blocks looking for her owner. She stayed with us and it took a while before I even petted her. It was storming then and we took her inside. She made everyone in the family kinder: we are of fierce and angry blood, gentled then by her and hence more forgiving now.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Daddy, ever the realist, named her Saturday and Saturday’s second litter was born with congenital diseases. This was in 2004: we took them all to the animal clinic in Kalayaan, like children. They were my children--- the children of a young woman whom the doctors said should have children to be saved from cancer, whom could not conceive. One by one we took them to the clinic, hoping they would be saved. Hope. It took time. No one left the clinic and one by one they died. I was thinking that they died alone and I was not there to sit by them. No one should die alone. One by one they were taken home and we buried them in the yard. They were all stiff.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>One by one they made me accept grief from genetics.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Mommy had said then that if they could, then the family should bury them without my knowing. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Mig paratangis naman. Like she had with Yen. </i><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And I would go farther away and may never come back. Mommy had fretted and had been a comforting strength when I had called her weeping.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The last ones who died had yet to be claimed. I did not have the money and I was waiting for my salary from my first full-time job. It had paid 10 000 pesos gross from teaching almost 8 straight hours a day these desperate nurses and employees and children and high school kids and college kids and parents and all kinds of students in 48 hours a week. The money came but I had learned that the bodies had already been claimed and were already buried. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The young man who had loved me had done that. And I had hated him for his love that had wanted to shield me from more pain, wept with the futility of enduring those painful hours of teaching. I had asked where the bodies were buried. None of them knew that I dug them up one night to see them. To see as a fact that they were dead.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">And on October 16 2009, my cat Thirdy, just past one year, fell from our home on the 12<sup>th</sup> floor. I thought that he would already be dead as I was accompanied by the guard who had informed me that a cat fell and was taking me to where he was. He was still alive, thrashing and “clawing for air” was right there and I was seeing it. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I was told not to touch him but I did. Only then did he become still. I had stroked him, murmured soothing sounds the way you would to an ill child--- no hope they said and the cold core in me knew it but still I hoped--- until he began bleeding out and stopped breathing. I watched and felt that last breath. It all only took seconds, maybe 3-5 minutes. I had wiped the blood from his nose and white fur with my daster before my sisters and brother could come and see him. Before his daddy could see him.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">There were 9 people I was supposed to post-test that morning and I did: not all were certified but all were eventually hired. I lost my wallet inside the office too that day. Persevered that day. And hated that I could for what I wanted was to be given time to bury my baby. And be there with his daddy who would be burying him. No one should bury a loved one alone. I had waited until he was already beginning to be stiff and only then did I let him go and leave for work. The punctuality of time has always been relative. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">It is silly to most people, loving animals as if they were your children. Or giving your self to strangers the way people like me do so in teaching. But I have accepted the pain of the duty in teaching, the obligation of seeing people through the end. The pain as focus, impetus, energy--- it is like breathing to me. Until it becomes choking, like watching somebody die. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">It is like that every time I have to let go of somebody I’m teaching after five days. Policy says I have to. It is like that and worse for I am watching somebody-- a person reduced to an animal--- I hold in my heart like my dead children, dying and being buried alive. And my hand that is forced to let go is that hand choking the breath of hope, my hand with the soil that says they are a failure, that consent.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">There were two this time and so I had told them before they faced that panel--- <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">They want to let you go. Fight. Stay with me. Let’s finish this. Don’t you goddamn dare give up. Fight. I will be fighting with you. All the way. For life. Fight.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">I had not wanted to let go and I was told that I was being greedy and too ambitious. Because I wanted them to be given time to learn and turn into their possibilities? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Fuck you. Watch it. Watch them turn, the way stories would turn and poems would turn to all fall and stop spinning unto place.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Mommy had said during the last days of May and the first days of June this year that I should go back to that seminar in UST for a re-learning of why people teach language and literature. I told her that in this business it’s called “recalibration”. The first time she sent me to that seminar was in 2007: I had stopped teaching and thought that I could never return to teaching again. And I had re-learned with the help of Cirilo Bautista and Ophelia Dimalanta--- Ma’am Ophie who had stopped writing a long time ago because she chose teaching. And teaching, if one really understands it, is writing on minds, these hearts, of bodies, in souls. She died last year, told me to keep on writing poetry and that one day I would be finally ready to let other eyes read it.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Last night I felt like I had betrayed my vows. Those two were released but I had not let go. Humans are never the lifeless numbers or phonemes--- which this business has tried to make me forget. So I will not let go. Junior said that we could not save everyone. I told her that I never wanted to save everyone, just one would be enough, and one within my reach. Last night there were two. And I will not let go. It is Dickinson whom I had read again and again in my vein: <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">If I could stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain… </i>So I will not let go.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Today my teachers would be happy that I am writing words again as plainly as my language can, as tears can. Count: there are 1740 for those two.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">So you tell me: </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">What did we teach the present last night?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">What are we teaching the future now?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p></div>Lilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01454730582501928712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1466159919893424657.post-53778275108622513612011-06-11T23:53:00.000+08:002011-06-13T11:54:25.099+08:00Out Rice Shower<div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Because each message wakes up the younger, boozers of red towers, no longer knowing what’s happening but it’s good, asleep like ducks and about to crash as soon as that lank hits the bed---</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">(There’s the Jeffrey.)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">That says that it is the middle-aged (self)grounded like a teenager on a Saturday because the watchers had given it the “talk”. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">What talk?</i> The sanctity of the bedroom and the home and how one asserts the personal in shared space--- the economics of rooms.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Understandable. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Malice--- What. Fuck.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">And hackles--- <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">If that were a woman inside it would be no problem. So what’s the difference. </i>CHOICE. Ah, here come frameworks being imposed, the virus of the conservative. It’s protective. Suddenly there, the feeling of dirty. Thanks. Thanks a lot oh ye free from the nightmares that plague sleep. Rant.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">(There’s the feared sex, drugs, and gothic roll AWOL.)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">LAWYERED: Let it pass.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Never tried jumping off a balcony as suicide.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">(That has got to be acid.)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">There was that dream the other night of being lost somewhere between the streets of inner <st1:city st="on">Manila</st1:city> and <st1:place st="on"><st1:city st="on">Bangkok</st1:city></st1:place>. Not knowing how to get home.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Charles was there. He was upset about being included in a book though grateful, says that one has to go that mile of hoopla. There was that hug given to all mentored. He hugged back, tight around the green <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">daster</i> softened and tattered by years.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Riding a child’s red bike in that dream around this neighborhood. To wake up with the news that the niece has just learned to ride the bike without training wheels. Her kuya taught her. Just like the children in the 1980’s.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Tradition now.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">And the youngest in a call, ordering the second mothers to come home for she misses loving. The little man was told by a little girl that he is cute and that he smells nice. Laugh a scream, “Nooooooo! He’s just a baby!”</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">(The room is a tomb without them.)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Just like the prototype who’s asked this to be the best woman. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Marrying at 20? Is she pregnant? No? Then you and me kid will have to talk about that. </i>Impulse control of smart adrenalin junkies: Sigh.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Sister #3 finally read “Wishes” after all these years, says it made her sad and even knowing that it would she finished it. It was good, she said. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Thank you so much. Don’t read the newest one that will come out.</i> Divorced and onto fucking around in Vegas finally with 38 words. It needs gritty motels and divine strippers.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">(When one becomes a standard, it is isolation.) <o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Now the Lady was funny. And the Lady is now poisoning noisy dogs. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">No shit?</i> Yep, try being a virgin dude who is taking female hormonal pills.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">And <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Phoenix---</st1:place></st1:city> according to the False Prophetess--- we are, they say, uncanny rising from the ashes of hell. Introduce ourselves to Professor X. He can fuck our brains out. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">We look happier.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Nothing to give.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Wine is the blood of liars, the break of Truth Sayers. That was the vortex of evil wanting your soul and balls. The wave--- Ride.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Sing.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">There was that dream that the bed was a coffin. There was the younger who is now the watcher beside the bed. The same younger who would chide the middle-age for getting hammered, the same taunt from senior boozers. Keep the monsters away, the dead sleeper says.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">(There’s Colt 45.)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">So here is the rice shower on filters flipping a cold and rapping a cough, tapping to hip-hop, Mark Twain a chanting: <span style="font-family:Castellar">DO SOMETHING THAT YOU DON’T WANT TO DO EVERYDAY; THIS IS THE GOLDEN RULE FOR ACQUIRING THE HABIT OF DOING YOUR DUTY WITHOUT PAIN.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">(There is that haunt again from Satan: Duty is branded on the forehead.)</i> </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">The ducks are on the way home, a <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">mami</i> stop first before bed.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Really, what’s with you younger dudes and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">mami</i> after boozing.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">It baffles.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">(Kanye West <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Can you guys tell me why…The way we mow the ride?</i>)</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Tangna Diablo na lang raw of <st1:city st="on"><st1:place st="on">Cavite</st1:place></st1:city> yo.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Tone. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Tone. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Tone.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p></div>Lilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01454730582501928712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1466159919893424657.post-73598187697550706132011-05-09T18:54:00.000+08:002011-05-10T18:55:38.336+08:00Ted & Sylvia Case 41004852<div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:14.0pt">That Sylvia was reading a note that morning written by That Ted that night. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:14.0pt">That Ted said:<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:14.0pt"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:14.0pt"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:14.0pt">I’m sorry baby.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:14.0pt">I do miss you, you know. It’s funny, the difference between the past month and the past two days is that all the worries are there but you’re not around. Thinking about stuff, about my life, about you. I do love you. And I do want to marry you. At the same time, I want to give you a better life than this but not at the cost of always being at the office or somewhere working and you being the home maker. I want a life with you.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:14.0pt">I wish I was a rich old man.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:14.0pt">Maybe that’s why I want to be a commercial writer. Bring in the dough without losing you. But then again, I always figured you to be the writer between the two of us. Not that I think you should go commercial. But you’re an artist. I’m just a hack. Did I ever tell you that you write beautifully? You do.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:14.0pt"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:14.0pt"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:14.0pt">And reading That Ted’s words made That Sylvia sad. It made That Sylvia want to weep. But That Sylvia did not. That Sylvia nodded, inhaled, exhaled--- <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Life with you, Our life--- </i>and resolved to write only in notebooks for That Ted needed That Sylvia to believe That Ted could wield words the way That Sylvia could. All That Sylvia really wanted was for those words in the notebooks to be read by That Ted. But That Ted would have hated That Sylvia. And so That Sylvia preferred to be in the background of public words. That Sylvia loved That Ted more than That Sylvia loved words.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></i><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-size:14.0pt"><o:p> </o:p></span></p></div>Lilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01454730582501928712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1466159919893424657.post-14469237424111952382011-05-08T00:25:00.000+08:002011-05-09T00:31:44.479+08:00GIRL # 35041153<p class="MsoNormal"><b><br /></b></p><p class="MsoNormal"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: 14pt; font-family: 'Bradley Hand ITC'; ">And I thought it would be something significant, something really big. Yeah,big…Like he cheated on me or something. Or something really shocking or disgusting. Horrifying earwax is disgusting and he had tons of it. I had to remove it. He disgusted me. I am still shuddering. The disgust was so overwhelming that I asked him to leave. I do not regret telling him the things I said. They were the truth after all. It’s supposed to hurt. But my god, do I have to tell him to be clean? Hygienic even? It reflects so much of his personality and I’ll be damned if I would tolerate that throughout marriage. I suppose this is why we don’t have a sex life: I want things to be perfect. Impossible, of course, but at least I shouldn’t worry about hygiene. I have a problem with his irregular bowel movement, his nails, his pubic hair… Now his ears (and not to mention the teeth). Jesus, I’m not asking for the moon. Just that he, at least, be <i>clean</i>! He wouldn’t even wash his hands. Or really look at himself in the mirror and see how <i>baduy</i> he is. Such is the price of love, comfort, and being comfortable. While cleaning his ears, I really thought of breaking up with him. Just like that. Something more than earwax will definitely be the end of this relationship. But tonight it almost ended. I refuse to soothe him, or his ego. I wonder what he would do.<o:p></o:p></span></p><p></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><b><br /></b></p>Lilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01454730582501928712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1466159919893424657.post-91646211563504673892011-04-26T23:47:00.002+08:002011-04-27T00:06:36.660+08:00OH-HO-PING!<div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" >TABULARASA</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large; ">DOES</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large; ">NOT</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large; ">WORK </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large; ">MOTHERFUCKINGIDIOTRETARDED STILL...</span><span class="Apple-style-span" >Okay, I'm done Dr.Stronzo. On with the Program.</span></div>Lilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01454730582501928712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1466159919893424657.post-22856690978684499532011-04-25T22:31:00.005+08:002011-04-26T10:42:32.350+08:00The Incorrigible Child<div><span class="Apple-style-span"><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"><o:p> </o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial">Had cuddled like the salamander that she was as a child and asks, “You love me?” <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="font-family:Arial"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;text-indent: 0.5in; "><span style="font-family:Arial">At 29 and with three children of her own, she is still and always the baby among her sisters and over simple things now like wanting a Big Mac meal. (Her fourth sister lambasting the crew and the supervisor once reaching the counter <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">You should have said while were on line and ordering that there’s no damn Big Mac because that was the whole point of coming here. </i>) <o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;text-indent: 0.5in; "><span style="font-family:Arial">Her wanting these gray flats from Parisian and waiting for the sale which made her fourth sister wince and nod <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Next time you tell me when you want something for yourself and we’ll get it. </i>The incorrigible child looking sad for the flats were gone; she shrugs, smiles, says, “Next time. The children’s shoes are more important.”<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;text-indent: 0.5in; "><span style="font-family:Arial">Now the child says she’s afraid and her fourth sister says <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">I understand--- What do you want to know? </i>She tells the child that they would put her to sleep, that she would count one to ten and she’ll be asleep before the end.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;text-indent: 0.5in; "><span style="font-family:Arial">“Good,” she says, “I don’t want to hear the---” steel on steel basins.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;text-indent: 0.5in; "><span style="font-family:Arial">It will be cold and she will tremble <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">but just breathe steadily</i>. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">And when you wake up you will feel that soreness there; Don’t talk; Don’t move so much; We’ll be there. </i>It is nothing compared to the pain of childbirth and <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">you’ve gone through that three times.<o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;text-indent: 0.5in; "><span style="font-family:Arial">And now the child is taking care of their senior citizen parents--- even her <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Nanoy’s </i>things like a bus ticket--- and the house of their childhood; the childhood absent of hugs and I-love-you’s.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;text-indent: 0.5in; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span style="font-family:Arial"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; ">The fourth sister cradles this child as if she were a baby who does not weigh 55 kilos, “I love you…I love you…I love you…”</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;text-indent: 0.5in; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; "></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; ">The child chuckles, “Dad used to say <i>You’re an incorrigible child… </i>I didn’t know what that word meant.”</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;text-indent: 0.5in; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; "></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; ">The fourth sister laughs, “Daddy’s fault then that he wasn’t understood.”</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;text-indent: 0.5in; "><span class="Apple-style-span" ><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; "></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial; ">And so with the children, words used are known and shown and if unknown are explained.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: justify;"><span style="font-family:Arial"><br /></span></p></span></div><div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></i></p></div><div> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></i></p></div>Lilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01454730582501928712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1466159919893424657.post-9141869539003915162011-04-24T23:40:00.000+08:002011-04-25T00:43:42.195+08:00Calling Astro Waps<div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">You spoke of the soul a year later while my clock says it’s been half that. We measure time with our words and time rambles. It is Sunday and the night is barking, the rattle of spoons in the kitchen, the chatter of a three year old about Mama Mary punctuated by laughter and hugs, even the waiting cursor seems to make a sound in what is silence. The past three days my baby sister would sometimes gently say <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Inay…Inay…Where are you? </i>Because <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">I have been silent </i>and would go far away, would talk to the sky, finding corners in the kitchen or promised chairs or hammocks in houses. I would just say <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">I’m here </i>and point to this. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">You have forgotten </i>that this silence would sometimes disturb those who love us. They are waiting and waiting for us to come back from the horizon where we are on the verge of knowing what is ineffable. At times catapulted into that black hole where letters become a storm and you feel as if you are falling, suspended in space. Grounded on the material, when will our feet touch Wonderland? <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Inay…Inay…Where are you? </i>Sunday and the Easter Mass never happened. Always irreverent, the spinsters and their Father joke about the priest being somewhere else, perhaps the beach, drinking and whoring. Waiting, the children ask about the meaning of INRI, what are jews, where human beings came from and what was the first country, taking turns on my lap for their answers. And what is a democrat, I point them to sit on their uncle’s lap. I watch Mother’s lips and almost hear her prayers. That tomorrow her daughter who is a mother would be safe after steel would cut and pull mass out of her. And I, always the surrogate mother, would stay with the children. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">You they listen to, You they adore and fear, You with the love </i>that has become patient through the years. Hours later I say out loud to Mother as I take off my new white heels how someone loved could say that I would be a bad mother. A second of the falling unto suspended space spoken. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Ika kaya su pig-aalagaan. </i>I nod and say that I do know how that could have been said, remembering seeing anger in women and grown men’s tears at my shrugging face when that was gutted out of my gritted lips. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Ninang! We had our ultrasound earlier. Baby girl magiging inaanak mo. Kailangan kasing fashionista ng ninang ha! </i>I say that I remember that whenever I see the children, when our boy asks about the why of the world. I say that I live with my faults. Mother says that she prays for the next time. But it will take a while, I say, for the heart has become a husk. I do understand and that has always been the weight scaled by the gift. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Do you? </i>Yes and that’s why the confounding come to me and feel like they have come home to that hidden planet of Cavafy. And if I look happier then it is because for years now there is acceptance of the daring madness in me without apologia, without wanting to kill its host. The mothers and the children ask as it is time to sleep<i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"> Inay…Inay…Where are you?</i> The end of each beginning is seen through. There is always courage to be the self no matter the toll and dues have been paid by the soul. There is now air and there is the horizon. There is that journey to gravity that keeps its silence about pillars becoming plagiarists and the politics of penitence. And time, like the future that we see, that we can put in words can make us speak of the year later now.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"> </i><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></i><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"><o:p> </o:p></b></p></div>Lilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01454730582501928712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1466159919893424657.post-58548007358567032362011-04-23T11:43:00.008+08:002011-04-23T12:00:23.288+08:00When You Wake<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Hours later, of the root word, from a dream about seeing dinosaurs flying outside your night window. Flying dark hard skin and red eyes--- invisible to the world. And the rain had come, the wind a storm that tore out the windows, the rain tearing books and the room no longer a shelter.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 25.92px; "><b><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>The Metro Moves</span></i></b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">On cars towards fast food, breakfast on Maundy, Lent now a vacation and no longer suffering solemnity. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Look at your children, Father. </i>The morning wind is cool gray. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">You wonder about these shaded ants and rats, the beaches that would be swarmed. </i>Questions interrupt--- Questions about vows to love and now occupied by fucks. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">There, There, Right, There, </i>Learn.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Spore S and this spoke of boxes and wonder if it sees that they are cages and coffins. This language now for the higher brow.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span><i style="font-size: 25.92px; font-weight: bold; ">Filling</i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">There is this hunger that you feel that you fill with tastes--- sweet and salty inverted and reversed. Happiness is those first seconds of seeing the children, their smiles and squeals as they run to you. The hugs despite the dust of the nine hours on the road. Those two pictures then taken of home--- the smiles and the hugs. Perhaps you will be happier when you have a child, who knows. You want to cry with happiness.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">In the shower, you were talking to your mother in your head; about how sometimes<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>you could not tell what was left from the right--- questions about marriage and how a woman survives being left behind by years. How it is to be this old and married to the same man. Why one stayed and held on even when the other wanted to leave. How is it that husbands can simply choose to walk away from wives and children just with a shrug.</p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span><i style="font-size: 25.92px; font-weight: bold; ">Searching Space</i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Like falling asleep on the couch and sinking finally into the safety of long and dreamless sleep. On that sofa, a little boy snuggles close to you, talks about his graduation and how he likes Math and National Geographic and Discovery, munching on corn bits like a man munches on tidbits while watching TV. He remarks about Mr. Bean shaving his head and that his father is like that, isn’t he?</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">It’s been months and children are not the fools the world thinks who easily forget. You tell him that his father is gone, left, no longer coming back--- the same words from half a year ago. You ask him--- because you’ve always talked to this boy as an adult even when he was just a baby--- if he wants to see his father, to talk to him. He says yes.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">In your head you reply, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">He has no rights to you. He relinquished it. He ran away from it. </i>There is anger once again and you call that <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Kubarde </i>that son of a bitch.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Spore S cautions, “Be careful with your adjectives. You did not really say that to the boy, did you?” You say that you are careful, that at least that s.o.b. has not been declared dead and gone to hell in this reality.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Instead you caution the boy to not be like the usual man, to not run away when life calls you to be a man even when you’re not ready. Just a boy, really, even with aging skin and brittle hair and bones.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="mso-tab-count:9"></span><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> <span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span></span></i></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 25.92px; "><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-style-span">Dying Father</span></i></b></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">While speaking of surrender, the first daughter asks, “Who is your sister?” and what is surrender. You tell her that all her mothers are your sisters and her Mommy is your baby sister. You tell her that it depends on what surrender means and at 5 years old this daughter is introduced to the intricacies of usage and affect in meaning.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Now you listen to the <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Siete Palabras </i>of Jesus who will die in a couple of minutes and people’s life stories interpreting these words. You listen to the sixth-word-story--- the story of a woman who got married three times: 1) Husband had a hard time being the man and stayed the Mommy’s boy; 2) Husband said after a time that “There is no longer a spark”; 3) Husband was a rebound…</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">That search for completion in love, its worth, in an equation.You laugh: IsolatIon Is The PoInt and completion means you marry yourself <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">or</i> God.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 25.92px; "><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"><br /></span></i></b></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b><i><span class="Apple-tab-span"><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre; "> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 25.92px; white-space: pre;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 25.92px; ">Panning For Spoons</span></i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><o:p> </o:p></i></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal"><o:p> </o:p></b></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">You tell your baby sister that her two elder children have different thinking constructs: Our boy pans for gold; he would not simply accept explanations but would question them. But make no mistake: he does absorb everything and would make use of what you thought he’d foregone when it suits him. Want to make a bet that he will be an architect of future computer programs? While our little lady is a sponge but mind her obsessive-compulsive tendencies. That one will be in the business of words. The little lady had cried when she found out that her Mommy is going to the hospital, said, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">I don’t want you to die.<o:p></o:p></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">Spores say you speak in riddles and they have no patience for it: you are running on 100 mph while they are only on 60. They try to make you blink and you just end up laughing. You tell them that you don’t spoon-feed when it comes to thinking. </p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">You tell them “Ketchup” and “Peace” and “I love you.” The latter is questioned and you sigh your reply, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Ah shit</i>…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">It means unconditional--- </i>which is “ambivalent” to vocabularies that use the word “nice”.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">“God is dead,” the youngest daughter at 3 years old then morosely say to you adults. You wonder if God ever got tired of this annual dying and rising up from the dead and being born at the end of the year cycle that human beings put him through.</p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><o:p> </o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify">You laugh and say to the youngest, “Don’t worry baby, God will come back to life on Sunday… He’ll be reborn as the Easter Bunny Wunny.”<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"><br /></span></p></div>Lilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01454730582501928712noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1466159919893424657.post-30738634589172406962011-04-22T14:50:00.011+08:002011-04-23T01:15:36.252+08:00Turning The Clock<div><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-style-span">Perhaps leather pages are doomed to witness love stories that die in a scream. No matter the color, black or the more benign brown, always the ink written as tears or bitten lips endeavoring to utter what is beating the heart. The Panda 757 RP cannot see beyond the swimming vision telling it to sleep--- eyes that should open at 3:30 AM to return home, to fly to the South like the strange and sometimes lost bird that it is, to come home to the present of the aging and the young.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-style-span">Spore B tells it now at past 1:27 AM that he’s in the beach. Panda 757 RP replies, “Is there a moon?” Spore B says yes and Panda 757 RP remembers the last times it was in that time and space--- whom the soul would call to. Like that July in a beach too and Panda 757 RP had seen the moon become yellow then orange, like the sun going cold, setting. Panda 757 RP had thought of sunshine then which was far away and six hours behind: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 29.376px; "><i>And just like that, sunshine drops off the horizon, like so many travelers before, the horizon unknowing where or how it is--- lost to language, like sunshine. This moon has dreamed of this before, it realized the other night as it was writing another letter--- stopped--- remembering that it was not a happy ending. It is fortune. </i></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><i></i></span><span class="Apple-style-span">It re-reads its own words, wondering at the gaping distance that will be the future. The what-now and where-to-go except home…Where it is simple enough, like the young girl who always just wanted to be a housewife but life turned her and kept turning her. Panda 757 RP says that suicide was not merciful and death would be cruel. How it feels the latter coming closer, feared, yet in the end would be a welcomed friend who’s been shunned. And love, the Death Cabs say, is watching someone die.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"></span><span class="Apple-style-span">Panda 757 RP thinks about that clock which Spore T says is occupied. Of course--- the weak do not have the courage to face regret and four years from now fortune says would feel that remorse. For now just this silence--- like thin skin notebooks being carried around--- light and not as thick as leather. Ah, who will be those manly eyes that will finally read the idiolect? </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-style-span">Like Spore S finally waking up after a dozen hands had rounded that clock and sees what should have been. It could have been…Except that spores always need time to bloom like the thorns in roses. In compartments and segregated, this is how they live the Real. It has all become a cycle of leaving and returning.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"></span><span class="Apple-style-span">A last cigarette, Panda 757 RP says to the one singing of love, this black machine of memento mori. It looks at the first and remaining captured smile of itself and sunshine--- they were happy… And it had avoided being frozen in the same frame since. </span><span class="Apple-style-span">Perhaps when Panda 757 RP returns home there will be a remedy.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color:black"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color:black"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color:black"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color:black"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p><p></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align:justify"><span class="apple-style-span"><span style="color:black"><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p></div>Lilyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01454730582501928712noreply@blogger.com0