dughan
07/31/10*
My current mission is to walk INTO corners and make a place fall-inlove with me. (it’s given that I shall, fiber by fiber, fall in-love with it)
*
Hello. Come closer, let me talk to you so close— face to face that I can almost see your pores. How have you been?
Did I tell you that I felt so empty for some time? Yes, I did. But when it all happened, my eyes were open. I wanted to see sadness, creeping, swallowing my entirety. I did not ignore it because: I needed it. I need it— still. To be sad, to be alone, to engulf the emptiness without having to find holes where I can let my nose pass through. To take the curves of the road without having to cheat and to resort to a short cut. Sad, nostalgic, needy, longing, alive. So I go to this green and pink carinderia for coffee and bread every morning. It stands between commercial buildings. You can see its stall and the menu of the day, a tray of candies and cigarettes on the kahera’s table, an ever-smiling girl in ponytail and strong unibrow. You can see their kitchen, the young male cook in his apron. His morning sweat and the beautiful smoke that he is very much used to. What makes this place beautiful are the sights and sounds around it. A block away, I always pass by to sales clerks painting their faces—holding pocket mirrors with a lipstick smile, truck drivers who would cheerfully greet me “good morning!!!” (and if I am lucky enough, I get this friendly wink).
“Hey where is he?”, the girl with strong unibrow and shiny smile asked
“Ah him, he’s almost home. I am surprised you still remembered us, it’s been more than 3 months,” I felt a sudden rush of shyness and longing.
“How could I ever forget?”, she had this indelible grin— sincere, little and reminiscent.
“Yes. who would ever forget…”
And then, I’d take slow steps. Let the morning shine upon me. Let the quietness of the city fill me in. I walk slowly down my favorite corner of Iloilo. Lamp posts, green huge windows on the second floor with hanging green ornaments, random people standing beside the windows— smoking, looking at the skyline and electric wires. Maybe thinking of what I also think about or thinking what I am thinking of as they look down on me from where they are.
Sometimes, I accuse life for being so unfair. For being so mischievous that no matter how I want to live with my heart bigger than my brain, I could not help in some instances when I have to sharpen my reasons. But maybe, I am glad that what I am here for is not mere intelligence, I want to believe that there is something more filling in wisdom. That my steps do not stop at the end of my nose.
Sometimes, I question existence. Being born without your permission. Being taken away without your approval. But in sad days, the long aimless walks present to me moments of life in small, vivid, monochromatic forms and I can’t help but hold my soul and get this I-am-a-bit-sad-and-nostalgic-and-yearning-and-I-feel-how-it-really-is-to-be-alive-awwwwww.
And you?
By the way, before I hop out for some SINGGIT dreaming, never forget that I believe in love. That though I thirst for wisdom, empowerment, beauty, humor and rock and roll, these would be all meaningless without l-o-v-e. and hey hey, THAT you ARE LOVED, too.
Keveen of KORAKOR/Spread Your Love
*
pasa
07/23/10*
yes.
*
Paklang,
be reminded that you are born not to attempt for immortality. that i am saddened every time you call to say you never have a choice but to exist. don’t take confusion against your self. don’t take the claws of life and love as curses. because they aren’t. time and choices have never been that kind to us. remember though that you have met very special people all along. that with them, you have found unnamed wonders and moments that i had never owned—short-lived, deep, magical. [and i may not ever share with you]. at all. never give up on love.most of all, never give up on your self. because you are not just a bag of bones, joints, skin and nails. you are special just like anyone else. and certainly, though everyone is special— never forget that for a few blessed ones, you transcend mere existence. please live. don’t hurry. and one day, someone will write you a much beautiful letter than this.
and that special soul will end her letter with an ellipsis.
kissing the harmonica,
me
*
swelas
07/17/10*
“That’s when you know you’ve found somebody really special. When you can just shut the hell up for a minute and comfortably share a silence.” -Pulp Fiction-
on a beautiful Friday dusk with my siblings
and so these rainy days and visits to the lonely shore nearby have magnified my love and relationship with silence and solitude. sure, i love people. let me tell you that i am in-love with how humans try to live. how they cook their meals, how they sleep on each others shoulder in the bus, how they invent passions just to get by, how they mischievously grin in secret when something is funny in a public place but it’s rude to laugh, how lovers in food courts discreetly kiss each other. i love their thoughts no matter how shallow or complex these are. and to highlight: There is beauty in transience but I fall in-love with every human being who tries his/her best to make the most out of ‘this’ impermanence. And that is, to inspire, to influence, to share his/her soul without expecting something in return and without the fear of the inevitable feeling of sadness or loss. I am inspired by a human’s way to exist and to live. And his means to differentiate one from the other. every human being i meet, bit by bit, has made me understand my self more.
but
it cannot be denied that i feel immensely myself when i spend limitless times doing nothing on a silent shore or a wide green field. just a long walk from where i live, there’s a sea and there’s low tide that allows me to feel the entire ocean under these two toes. when i rest my back and go cloud-watching, i have been in awe just watching how these lumps of soft white occupy such a beautiful space in the skies. imagine skies without clouds. imagine airplane flights without them.imagine your life without clogs of sadness, boredom and rejection. lately i have found out that maybe, life gets too tough as a struggle because people get obsessed with vocabulary. words like: happiness, contentment, intelligence, wealth, freedom and all these utopia-ish huge terms. i have to admit, i’ve spent some lengthy time trying to achieve each of those. i thank my younger, more fragile years for fueling my desire to fumble, fail and learn. but then, is there an end to this big loop of tumbling, twisting and trying? perhaps, none.
maybe, there’s no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow nor light at the end of the tunnel. if there is—perhaps, you and me, we, we’re not entirely here for that ‘end prize’ at all. and what am i here for?
i am not even sure. but all i know is this: i want to wake up and stir my coffee and see others wake up and live each day: be it in a manner that it’s like their last or in a way that they just lazily let it pass. i want to write my thoughts in mid-air and just let them melt somewhere. there are many places that await me and many people that are about to make a difference. i still enjoy the swings of moods like cry laughing or the other way around. i still want to listen to every sound that this world has, taste every highs and lows of the journey.i still want to keep my dream of one day, just walk along silently with my significant other, hold his hand and we could talk about what it means to be him, what it means to be me, what it means to love and what it means to be us. And in 10 years’ time, we could look back on that day and know that we meant what we said.
this, dedicated to my best friend-loyal listener, Ben, whose i-don’t-give-a-fuck-shirt happens to be my fave
and to the security guard at BPI who shared to me his choco polvoron yesterday
& to my charming siblings who ask me the most racist questions
*
pilo
07/8/10*
(something that happened this morning that you’re happy you did not photograph)
something like meeting an April morning in an island of Concepcion
—
(a thought while planting ornaments in pots)
“we are standing at the end of the world, lola.”
the fog will give you this sensation. at the end of the world, the cities will look like eroded maps. vague polka dots, irrevocably dead, plagued by millions of stars named by every lonely seafarer. your grandmother will hand you a mug of worms. her hands, a fusion of leper and clay.
“why did you choose to decay?”
at the end of the world, be sure to close your eyes a bit. you will see Asia. you will not see the Great Wall. you will see the first person you have saved. whatever the salvation is, it won’t matter.
but you will remember how it made you feel good about your self –that very moment. you will touch the person who made the greatest impact in your life and he/she will drink you up with his/her morning coffee powder. you will sit beside the first teacher who told you–you don’t have a future. you will see ghost-like silhouettes of street vendors and beggars. you will smell how humanity flourishes and fleets. and you are confused all those times.
at the end of the world, your body will feel like helium and the desert.
—
(spontaneous haiku before eating lunch)
She is beautiful.
The prostitute shaving her
1 P.M. armpit.
—
(a favorite subtle yet lingering moment in May)
he: that part (pointing at La Salette building) is the most beautiful street here so far. feels like Europe.
she: awwww. coincidentally, that happens to be my favorite street. i walk as slow as i can every time.
he and she: *no words just lucid eyes and summer night hugs*
—
(something you want to tell your younger sister)
thank you for all the ukay-ukay goodies. for being the gentle hands when im a wreck. for being a real person when it’s easier not to be one. for reminding me that once and for all, i deserve to be happy. for putting up with my quirk and for reiterating my dreams when im too hopeless to walk at the seams and breathe in. i believe in your heart. your fart sounds funkeh. i love you. so.
.
sab-it
06/30/10*
my friend sat in front of me, busy with her mobile phone. hours ago, she gave me this unexpected call. it was too unexpected that i did not even have the energy to take it. it’s just like that — there are days that i don’t like answering phone calls from unknown numbers. but that day, i was happy i did.
” i hate to sound needy but can we meet and talk? “
“it’ll take me 2 hours though. can you wait?”
“yes…”
and there was this painful crack in her voice, like bones being broken by two bare hands. she let go of this deep sad sigh that echoed to my earlobe like how seashells give you this ocean-sound even if you are farthest from the sea. and i did not know what to say. i did not know anything smart or witty or anything that could break the heavy moment. in no time, i was standing alone, unprepared, about to take the final trip to where she was.
”sorry, i bothered you but i never expected you to take me seriously and you’re here.”
she began to cry on my left sleeve. and she held my hand that i knew right there and then how it felt to be one of these stress balls. i just allowed her though, because more than once, maybe, i was where she was. crying on another person’s t-shirt, crumpling a hand just because it funnels the pain to that unknown place where suppressed hurt all fly to.
“did you have dinner already?”
she ordered too much food, too much beverage and too much cigarette. she began to light the sticks one piece after the other. she looked pale,disturbed and dreamless. not the same girl i used to hang out with, not the same look of passion in her eyes. she was thinner, sadder and more calloused.
“how are you, tin?”
“do you still write in the bus?”
“what’s up with your love life? are you with someone now?”
“do your siblings still ask you cute questions?”
her brand of evasion is something i have slightly mastered all these years. and so i answered each with brevity and a smile on my face.
” i am always trying to be relaxed and entertained. if all fails, i drink water more.”
“yes, but not as mad as i used to.”
“i met my soul mate already.”
“they do and the thrill is always on!”
she lit another cig, bit a piece of the burger and swallowed half of the hot coffee all straight. and she did not look bothered for a couple of minutes.
” devastation, tin. i have lost interest in many things and passions since he left.”
she threw her vision outside the glass walls. there to where i would not be able to see how helpless she felt, how she was trying her best not to be needy when in fact she really was. i held her hand. took a bite from the same burger.
“how long has it been?”
“7 months and 2 days… and counting”
“has he told you why?”
“yes and that what hurts most. that i understand his reason. and understanding him… it kills me.”
all of a sudden, i ran out of words. that line was such a landmine.
“what took you so long to tell me?”
“tin, i actually did not remember you at all. it’s just i went through old notes and found your letter. it took me long to find your mobile number too. and i was scared that you might be living somewhere else, happy, fulfilled, successful.”
“then one day you found out i still am not and that’s why you decided to call?”
i am good at inserting irrelevant lines during the most serious situations. it’s embarassing.
“no. it’s because in that letter you mentioned about living for the moment. that life, when you feel it, you dont gauge it in the thickness of years but you have this sudden recall of the most beautiful moments you have ever lived and relished.i want to relearn that”
“what was the most beautiful moment you spent with him?”
i asked right away. i even forgot if i gave her the eye contact or the hand gesture i usually do when asking something huge. then i saw her eyes turned into something strange but… but better.
” ah, that time when he visited my old town. he got off the bus and looked stupid. he was carrying this bunch of flowers and when he saw me approaching, he just gave me the flowers and did not say anything sweet or whatsoever. it’s his shyness and silence that i will always remember. his silence that spoke in volumes about how i meant so much to him.”
“you did not unlearn it. and if hope grows back, no one can argue or can devour it. again.”
“but tin, be reminded that he is forever gone. not in another country or with another woman, but in another dimension”
and the rain started to fall. we sat there facing each other. not talking for a bit and i hugged her farewell for the meantime.
.
