libut
05/5/10*
the internet used to be of no essence to me. i worked for years as a teacher and never had the thirst to Google things because i was barriotic like that. a new year and a new opportunity arrived and it introduced me to Deviant Art and the blogging community. Both served as great venues for me to meet wonderful people who have helped me grow this deeper understanding and appreciation for words, art, music, passion and life in general. also, it has polished me to someone who has so much respect for universalism, quirk and self-expression.
(photos from Ai)
last Saturday, i met another bunch of kindred souls who used to be strangers somewhere in this archipelago of dreamers and awe-weavers. Mina — who has this affinity for public trains and everything spontaneous. Marky— who has so much depth and adorable strangeness. Chin-– who never fails to make me tread the dreamland of words, imaginary warriors and the wayward. Aileen—who sees the world in a little girl’s pair of eyes, who journeys it with a pair of little boy’s toes. more than being writers and photographers, i’d cherish them as these few people i am blessed to meet somewhere in time—somewhere free, somewhere label-less…somewhere, where bonfires leave the most beautiful ember and revelations do not flake off and just fade away.
—
You are this most unexpected present outside the door when I have long forgotten how it is to open knobs while it’s raining outside.
—
Thank you for arriving. For defying gravity. For reminding me that Newton can be wrong. Sometimes.
—
This is a bit new to me (writing about a man out in the open. but yes, he isn’t just another man in this sphere of connections and affinities), but, as of today, i want the world to know and i want to swallow a bit of mush: once, a young dreamer carrying his backpack and pet rooster around… granted my wish of being loved so much…more than the usual.
and to put everything in a song
♥
hakwat
04/27/10*
to be vulnerable and to be human. these two have been the guiding principles of my life. along the path and the pathlessness, the former has been swept away by so many reasons. yes, vulnerability has been denied and evaded by this heart in some events. if i come to think about it, a little of fear has saved me from total devastation in some seasons of my life. looking back, being chicken shit is helpful. sometimes.
then again, in such days that i enjoy the comforts of daily life, the usual fondness i profess for the night sky and the simplest of people and the undying urge to suck the marrow out of life, here comes a moment that changes. a point in time that appears to me like a firefly at the end of the woods. imagine the lush, the seeping of warmth between old tree trunks and growing shrubs. imagine the sound of birds, the waltzing of leaves and the glide of morning dew. and at night, darkness does not feel empty. silence does not deafen. you stand alone on this narrow path. then you see from afar this tiny spark. will you walk through and let it dance on your palm or just fall on the ground, sleeping deep for tomorrow you’re still going to wake up in the mystery and the majesty of the woods?
to be human, i have found the passion from the young generation of Filipinos. to be human, i have never given up in my belief for the children and faith in dreams. to be human, i have not feared the lures of titles and superficiality and instead, fought against them in the gentlest means. human, soft, shivering and shiny.
singgit sirkulo art sessions
draw your heart out
story telling under the tree shade
—
to be vulnerable, i fall in-love
.this time.
and with that vulnerability comes this music, this sweet old tune that you have never fully understood when you were younger and more coward. and it’s true
the person who lives in fear has not been perfected in love.
i am still a bit scared but as what Chin has told me and i am so happy she did:
Finally, when you’ve learned not to long, when you’ve forgotten how to need, fall in love with someone who looks at you like you’re magic.
You are.
the road is still long and winding. the woods as luscious as i can feel it above my head and under my toes.and if all these fears ebb one day, it’s because after all this tumbling down, there comes this soul that holds you close and tells you: i am born to wish on stars, jump over the waves, run mad— and when i met you, i just knew here you are, another soul that can do all these with me.
.
habuy
04/20/10*
the aim is to be a traveler and not to be a tourist
*
Concepcion, Iloilo
Tuesday,
let me mourn for those
in the fields, browned by the sun.
let me cry for those bodies
I let my hands fumble my curiosity with,
let me hold sea urchins and hurt for
those places where I left them
Wednesday,
A school of fish will run around me
in circles, ask me about my legs,
my breasts, my thighs, my pubic hair,
and why I look like those men with cigarettes
throwing dynamites.
Thursday,
Picking dead shells for the most alive person
I have met up there, a soul which held mine
from that very day I listened to the willows
sway, margining the runway.
Friday,
The mermaids will comb my hair and tell me
stories about humans they have
fallen in-love with
but have
all chosen to forget.
Behind the rocks, they hid
as the salt on their cheeks mimicked
the taste of their eyes.
Saturday,
The ghosts from the sunken ship will write
letters for their families, for their mothers waiting by the door,
for their fathers in umba-umbas, sleeping with memories of 1994,
for their children and the paper boats they lick and fold,
for the next years that never came, for the deaths that did not
end with engraved names and carabao grasses.
Sunday,
A hand will pull me up from the ocean,
a wounded palm that smelt gas,
broken oil lamps
and years of waiting
*
thanks to Leo for the photos.
thanks to Deviant Art for the second Lit Daily Deviation award for my poem Kwarto.
Singgit Sirkulo is now conducting the K Summer Classes
*
When was the last time you have felt non-materially happy? live love and lol.
.
bugsay
04/12/10*
i love you. what i like about us is that we share summers whole year round.
and when i stop visiting one day,
it’s either i am immensely happy
or
i have, finally, given up.
-Whispers I make to the Sea, 14/05/2009-
¤
Villa Igang, Guimaras Island
¤
and sometimes, it’s really beautiful to be separated by an island and a sunrise.
Island girls Thanna and Effeng.
The beach.
backpacks and beautiful people.
unplanned route.
dipping. laughing. burning.
seeing that part of the world that seems so eternal, limitless, unbound.
like there is so much love to give, share and receive.
like in a moment, there is nothing more powerful than the shelter of friendship and giggles.
yes, world domination through giggling.
and i went home sad. until now, this sudden departure of someone i hold close hurts. there is this sting of loss. inexorable. and so that night i spent hours crying in bed and i wrote:
dear T’ Larry,
you are the courage of a man who’d rather be misunderstood than accept his defeat. strange— we talked about life, contentment and death two days before they found you alone, dead and coiling like a child in your hut. i have always understood you even if i have never spent too much time asking you whys. that night was wonderful. you looked better and blushing unlike the other nights that you were too drunk and too pale. i will always laugh inside when i remember you singing Bon Jovi. i will always miss the way you applaud whenever i pass by your drinking table and greet you with a rock sign. i will always think of you as someone stubbornly happy, genuinely loyal and
drifting.
that night, i was so happy i have finally asked you why you haven’t been sober for years. and you told me, “tin, i am a failure, i am too late for everything.” i told you “tomorrow, show me you’re better and i’ll help you by all means.” the next day, i packed my things and left for the nearby island. when i passed by your hut, it never occured to me why i did not hear you cough. hours later, they told me you left. hours more, death did not sink in my thoughts. i hoped you live longer. but then again, i have always thought that a lot of things and people have killed you for a long time before the decay of your body, the rottening of your stomach and the fainting of your breath.
tell me that where you are now— nobody judges you on the surface. tell me that no one points a finger and call you ‘waste’. tell me that you are still singing songs so husky. tell me that Lola is there again to love you becaue you told me she’s the only person you’d stay for—here.tell me that no one hurts your little frame there, that the soil is soft and the stars are closer.
i want you to know that i have never misunderstood you and that if i have, i have regretted those times. and until the day you left, i have always wished that i’ll see you loved and accepted.
tell me that it’s less cruel there and that when you step your right foot,
everything floats back and just flies
.
kwarto
04/3/10*
In my bedroom, I want to bring a man with old boxers
and new ideas about: spirits above the bus roof, anteaters which used to walk Palawan.
I want to bring him in and his childhood nostalgia, his favorite stuffed toy
which he rubbed on the ear for him to fall asleep. I want to bring him in:
down on my skin, smelling the anxiety, the saltiness, the beauty, the lies and
the scent of sweat like vapor of something lost and redeemed.
He’d be surprised of how I managed to keep old snail mails, a few cobwebs,
smell of wine on the pillow and some crumbs of slumber on my nape.
In my bedroom, I want to stand beside the wide-open windows with a man
that has half-closed eyes, like perfect eyebrows shielding the eyes from
everything that associates fear, discourage and dirty politics.
I want him in, tell him about how my mother never slept on my bed
since I started to write scribbles and how sometimes, I feel like architecture
and crumbling meant the same when I turn the lamp off and create a burrow
that transports me to the ideal world where half of the earth are poets and
half are hungry winged beasts.
In my bedroom, we’ll just lie lazy like two bodies in an open highway,
talking not facing each other, and anytime soon the laws of gravity
will just crack out of ripeness
we will kiss without thinking about the toothbrushes standing beside
the glasses near the kitchen sink.
→
aurgasmic-eyegasmic-heartasmic
you’d appreciate the video more if you’ve planted a tree.
→
in response to the more narrow and materialistic impulse of traditional schooling,
check out Gamot Cogon
(will take a stroll there soon and share what is spare)
→
by the way, we are still accepting financial help for SINGGIT students.
if you’re interested and you think altruism is sexy,
email me: patadyong@gmail.com
support in the form of school supplies, art materials, musical instruments and candies are also very much welcome!
*two of my friends are writing five articles per week too as donation
to the organization. makes my heart skip ropes and kick tire swings.*
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so what i’ve been up to as a person? i work daily as a content writer/ESL teacher/remote secretary with flexy schedule (no complaints at all!). morning walks to the beach with someone else who can get up early.skimboarding with sister and Clem. biking and daydreaming. island hops (Agho, Bantayan and Siquijor soon!).very part-time waitress at my parents’ eatery. cheerleader to my siblings who are now growing as eccentric tiny people. most of the time, i’m just laughing, meditating, sharing a drink and conversations with a friend or a stranger or reading weird stuffs that the internet could provide.
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i believe i am a better person now. i believe it may sound self-righteous though.
—-
also, i believe that it’s best not to make life hard for others. well, except for hard-ons.
*
