*
i’m flying a bit too fast, but happy to report that i have not lost my mind. i have gotten very good at flying fast and staying sane.
it’s a skill in itself.
-Amanda Palmer-
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I was having coffee somewhere today. It was a cheap majestic place introduced to me by a favorite person. The fathers and uncles and cockfighters were there talking about nothing else but politics and Mar Roxas’ trisikad ad. Duh. When alone, I love visiting corners that were introduced to me by unforgettable individuals. After that, I spent long walks trying to figure out if I need a new pair of slippers or a new gun. It has been my fantasy to be an assassin. that woman from the car window who shoots adversaries and pulls that shiny pistol from her stockings. After minutes of just roaming around, I made the best decision of buying a new floor mop. It’s the best floor mop in the world. It would definitely keep me busy when I am bored or sad or poor.
+
some weeks ago, i was in a coffee shop enjoying this great-tasting mug of frappe. i leaned my back on the wall and closed my eyes. the moment i opened them, i saw a man looking at me like he has been staring at me for the whole time. so he saw me shaking my head a bit because i loved the Sinead O’ Connor track. Admit it, sometimes, we look for romance anywhere. It’s cool. cinematic. He went out and invited me for some cigarettes. I glued my cheek on the glass so that my skin would look distorted. I shook my head seconds later. Just looking at him, I could feel that he has been working outside the country and that he wears this musky perfume. He likes to take pictures of the sunset and he likes every computer game since he was 9. The waiter gave me this cup of Espresso and told me it was from “him” but when I wanted to say thank you, all I saw was the last smoke of his Marlboro.
\
Almost a month ago, someone hugged me and the day after, I realized that I have stayed at home for a long while. lately, I have been going out and have allowed the change of weather brace the years of sacrifice I have stomached for people I love.
Oh. I have crossed out this sweet item in my bucket list.
It is too sweet that I am selfishly keeping it on my own and the other half involved.
>
some people fool themselves by surrounding them with drunken friends who wouldsoak them in flattery/
announcing to the world the wealth that they have been too busy acquiring.
applauses.
janis joplin once said that in concerts, she made love to thousands of people
but she went home,
ALONE.
right now,
i cannot say that i am deliriously happy.
i feel sleepy today but i am not at any rate, sadder than the past few days.
sometimes, it’s all bout menstrual blues and eating ice cream the messy way.
sometimes,
it’s the thought of being kissed by your man
until your lower lip bleeds
and he walks out the door,
you pull him back too hard that it rips off his shirt
and you whisper:
“kiss me more”
how romantic
ψ
.
*
on why i don’t really do tags but Lionel has his brand of emotional callboy blackmail
* I was a thumbsucker until Grade 2. My Aunts had the biggest challenge of their lives convincing me to stop sucking my thumb when I was a child. They took the task so seriously like rubbing some siling labuyo on it but they would find me washing it well (using CHAMPION ang labadang pang masa!). I lost the habit when one night, I started thinking of a Grade 3 boy and I did not want to turn him off. Today, I realized that it was the earliest asset I had to turn boys and men on.
* My earliest musical influences: Yano, Siakol, Grin Department, Alanis, Guns N’ Roses, Skid Row and Manilyn Reynes. A 20 year old something musikero neighbor gave me my 1st Yano cassette tape a decade and a half ago. Until now, I still have this infatuation with Dong Abay. Manilyn Reynes, “sayang a sayang laaaangggg…”, because my youngest Aunt loved her so much, she sang her songs to me as I sucked my thumb to sleep. Mani introduced to me the last song syndrome.
*I don’t comb my hair. If I do, maybe, I am in-love or something similar to that.
*My constant karansos are all males. I have female friends too but since childhood, males get closer to me because of music and the kind of music I dig. Right now, my youngest karanso is a 16-year old guitarist. The oldest is a 33-year old bassist. And I love how they mock me. It shakes me, I like it when people find time to make me feel less comfortable with my self, it makes me want to grow up more.
*I don’t like get-togethers or ordinary wow-we-meet-again moments because I find it hard to explain to people what I do for a living. I don’t like writing and taking pictures of me working. Swear, it’s very very intresting but it’s just indescribable. And swear, I am not a pole dancer or a sepulturera.
* I did not find ease in letting others read my writings. One day, a teacher talked to me privately and told me I don’t write like normal kids. I believed her. In college, I won an oratorical speech writing contest. To think that I won over university professors, that the speech had loadshit of typos and that I wrote it drunk… I cannot get over from it. It is one thing I’d BRAG to my future kids. I love clumsiness, only a few can do it with style.
*I will forever have a crush on them: Charles Bukowski. Lev Yilmaz. Dan. Heather Bell. Amanda Palmer. Kim Bureros.
*I am single but not romantically-challenged. I have romance flash fiction in my head.
*I love it when people give me their old stuffs as gifts. Large-sized rock t-shirts are my pinakapaborito. I wear them to bed. Human as I am, I love brand new things but I carry with me this affinity with second-hands when it comes to material things. Maybe, it’s the stories and the sentiments. Oh and the scent.
*I am the best dishwasher in the whole world. Karinderyas please hire me.
*I can sound like others. (From Ruffa Mae Quinto to Marion of the phenomenal M2M)
* When I am bored, I write erotica. Mind masturbation.
*I have a feeling that I will die young but when I think of it, it makes me feel hilarious.
* Watching Jackass, jamjamjamming with friends and kissing for hours can make me miss 3 meals in a day.
* Majority of my soul brothers have respectfully asked me if I am into pot, slide or rugby. You can’t buy natural high.
* I miss flirting. I feel like a little boy now and my Catholic parents are too conservative.
* I am a proxy mother. Most of my income goes to my sister’s college education, allowance, boarding house and smart load. I look after a Grade 3 kikay, a 5-year old weirdo and a 4-year old Spiderman madfan. All you mothers who complain about one or two kids, shame on you! hahaha. I am good at managing stress, anger, libido and farting.I cook-dishwash-kubeta overhaul-floorwax marathon-pseudocarpentry-fetchwater-sibak nga kahoy?. There are people we hire to help us but I’d love to do chores and I’d love to understand how a P2000 salary goes for a helper.
* I cannot finish a 25-item tag.
.
*
i am told that i have to read my old posts, and maybe, read them backwards. i found out that all these writings here can leave an impression that i now qualify for “bagong bayani na sandata ay luha award” or if not the “kapitag-pitagang mapapangasawa monumental galoreness”.
now, i am typing this away because my online students are absent. and i want to wage awar against their country because i still have this super hung-over but i set my mobile phone to a vibrating mode and inserted it into that kinky portion of my underwear. i wanted to wake-up so early because i decided to create a slideshow for one of them as visual aid. (hahaha modelong guro award naman ni.
going back to the major hung-over and my boracaymixshit today this is what happened yesterday:
went to the beach under a whimsylike-awoman sky with kasinggit-friends. i brought my termos and mug and some pancho, we also brought with us our musical whores: hikog (intsik’s gitara), alindog (my kahon), hulam (leomarf’s) and pangga (aninipot’s). we got caffeinated, got drunk and got high.
we talked filthy and all. we sang filthy songs and got filthy with the sand (sculpting pornography and i know this is what we get with our countryside life kay wala pa diri kuryente sa among bukid hahaha). we swam. ah scratch that, they swam, i doggied. (langoy-ido) and sang more until it was time to free the hearts from hairnets.
ah the climax: i found my self in our bathroom, puking like a concert and i felt so alive. the denouement: my phone vibrated like forever (vibrations and forever, pamatay nga kombo)”tin, thank you because you introduced to me this beautiful place called life.” “nang tin, i am so happy, you all made me happy, gakalimtan ko probs ko kung kta mag ulupod” “nang tin, thanks for the moments, for the kape, u always tke me higer. i luv u big sis.”
okay okay i love this whole drama thing but really really really
right now, i just want to enjoy this hammer in my head and more beershit and my many different roles to remind me
that mad girls do not live horrible lives.
.
*
full title: If I Leave This Sunday, These Are the Sweet Crap I’d Write About Before Wearing Some
*
the rain has start to fall again)
the ducks run, an old man chases them as if he’s running after
the grandsons that have peed on his pants but are now caregivers in the
wiping the toes of other elderly.
*
(fishball vendor/musikero)
“i would let you know if my mates are here and we’d jam”
“sige nong, astig na.”
his cart shook a bit when he fried
kikiam, tempura and some fish balls
“I hope you can play some from Scorpions”
“I told them but they are so into Bamboo and The Calling.”
the bluntness on his face made me giggle.
*
(cemetary gates by Pantera)
downloaded the tabs,
printed out the lyrics,
gave it away
in exchange of guitar lessons for my
little sister.
free. unlimited sessions.
because she asked me last New Year
to teach her how to kill dinosaurs.
*
(kwentong-barbero)
hala daw indi na
ko kabalo magtagalog.
Hahaha.
*
(sa tunga sang tuba-an)
ila mga harakhak, sa merkado galinog
sa dingding sang merkado, ginpatubod ang pantog
sa hita sang asawa, ginbarina ang otog.
.
*
why of all old poems this accidentally had a back-up?
sometimes, i feel handsome.
i loves hares hihi
People know it when you are bored you
start to draw your self on paper, exaggerate your penis
and your body hair.
The last time I met you, you wore this weird top with
“my dog is smarter than your president” print.
The last time we kissed in the sofa, you called me
plague
I started to put my palm near my mouth and
exhaled if my breath stink, but you took my hand off
and swept my hair to my shoulder
“just please, close your eyes”
People know it when I recall having multiple orgasms,
I write poems ending in ellipsis…
.
*
Currently, biking along country roads, tumbling down to the sea shore, waiting for the sun to sink, for the stars to dangle and the rain to fall into ripples. Forever young. Forever a bus window lover.
She is religious this way: Streetfoodgasm, Aurgasm, Laidbacksm, Quirkgasm, Cheapoism.
*
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and this. a proof that:
how you see LIFE is how
you actually see YOUR self.
*
*
***
maddening spurt:
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“The only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn, like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes "Awww!”
-Jack Kerouac-
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she lives:
* to observe MORE: a lot of parallels in this microcosm of society. which is interesting to see, sometimes funny, sometimes sad though.
* to read "dear me" letters from random people and to encourage them to write one.
* to smile at the grumpiest person in a bus/jeepney/foodcourt/line in front of the atm machine/anywhere
* to say something profound or profane when the situation calls for it/when urge pees
* to keep my family and circle of beloveds in defiant strings.
* to love more than the usual/the necessary.
* to swallow every moment of sunset, sunrise, nightsky, gentle rain, spontaneous collisions of beauty and madness.
* to see the world from puddles than from human-sized mirrors.
* to fetch the colors of culture and splash hues whenever i stay for a while, melt for a while and fade for a while.
* to immerse in the poetic corner where souls need not write poetry to be poets.
* to share more because i have much more to give.
* to swim against the tempting current of materialism, titles, the superficial & the boastful.
* to lick every feeling & thought at its rawest-- create art, music or new tiny passions from each
* to beg for Explosions in the Sky to have a picnic concert in front of me ;)
* to throw a big party if our rooster Tagay becomes a Dad.
*
