drowning bismuth on the way

find yourself wondering at the end of things

2009-10-15T15:47:00.000+08:00

the bad end of goodbye finds you sitting in your corner of the world still wondering what has happened. if there ever was any reason to believe it was love to begin with. or if you were a fool to take it and sit there as the world passed you by. do you tell him then you still love him and those other things he doesn't want to hear anymore. do you still believe in kindness at the end of things?

boogie woogie and elves on half skirts

2009-09-16T16:50:00.001+08:00

Coffee. 3^rd cup. Still sleepy. Let’s do the boogie woogie. And turn it all around. Or twirl- if you feel like being a girly girl.

How’s it again?

Boogie woogie. Pointy toes. Pointy hats. Pointy noses. Pointy ears. North. South. East. West.

There’s a point here somewhere.

Somewhere where elves run around in half skirts and full beards.

Now. Not when. Or how. The question begs an answer. Not another question. So I ask, is it someday or soon? You, say, NOW!

And do the boogie woogie and turn things around. Do the woogie boogie and twirl all the girls around.

Around the world. Around the world. What’s that? You ask if it’s true. I say, yes. Yes if it is NOW. Now. Now. Now.

Pick up your skirts little elves. Run and twirl in the wind. Your full beards float after you. Like a cloud of smoke. Like the smokes you’ve quit on a whim. Just like how it begun- on a whim, didn’t it?

Do the boogie woogie. And turn around. Point to yourself. Point to me. Say NOW. The world around. There’s only you and me and the little elves that dance ‘round and ‘round. Boogie woogie. Oh the coffee! The coffee too!

too giddy

2009-08-21T21:12:00.002+08:00

i'm too giddy right now to write anything decent. i don't know but i'm really just like this. when i'm too giddy, i mean. i'm scared maybe i'll just write cheesy stuff that stink worse than blue cheese. which by the way smells like foot- that sweated too much. but still tastes great. the cheese i mean.

taking on the darjeeling dare

2009-03-09T21:59:00.002+08:00

mahal,

Until last week, I did not see myself running after that proverbial train. I simply didn’t care. So many have passed me by already and have left me believing people always leave. That there is no forever. Not for me.

Then you came. I’ve started wondering maybe I have been wrong. Maybe I just didn’t understand how this whole thing- this fate, love, commitment mixture works.

I am unsure about catching the train. I have never committed to anyone. Had no one commit to me. I still can’t see my future because my future is full of curbs and blindspots- the way I want it. I avoid the long straight line- of knowing precisely what comes next. Of being too sure. Of finding the one now. Now when I only know two things to do when made to choose: fight or flight.

My friends say I wear my heart on my sleeve. That I put too much of my heart out there. But I have not really given much to anyone. I have never lost myself. I may have loved freely but I have never let anyone pierce through me so much so that I would fear losing out on things while I go about my ways- of not having kids (because will I really find a man who wouldn’t want to have a child in his likeness?); of dying (what kind of person in love would wish misery on someone who has his life latched unto hers?); of being whimsical (who wouldn’t want consistency in a relationship?). I am a slave to both my ego and id. Even with you now, I am still me.

But unlike you, I am not afraid of the what ifs. What if we grow too comfortable? What if we run out of interesting things to say to each other. What if this is just mere attraction – of finding a kindred soul at this turn in our lives. What if I’m not the one. What if there’s no such thing as the ‘one’. What if there’s no such thing as the ‘one’ for me or you.

I am taking you on your condition: to speak up when this thing gets too much to handle or falls below expectations.

I need to believe first that the train is worth catching.

Because I’m running without any baggage. And I see you still have yours. But like I told you. As long as you hold my hand, I won’t let go.

We can catch the train or we can stop running after it. Plop down on the grass and enjoy the view of the here and the now. and not care if it takes us a hundred years forever wondering what comes next.

Because the future doesn’t matter to me as much as the hand that holds mine now.

I told you I am not simple. I am not low maintenance. I want more from life. I need to feel that you are drowning in me. Overwhelmed by me. Consumed by me. I just can’t have it otherwise.

Your turn. Fight or flight?

everything fades

2009-01-28T19:50:00.002+08:00

i tell them not to worry. everything fades with me.

it comes faster than you think. ask mellon. ask ian. ask pan. ask eli. ask jig. ask moi. ask savvy. ask jan. ask troy.

only one says it's taking forever. and even him can't keep me.

we are only here for a moment.

and even time can't have me.

i'm counting down the days till you are here. i'm counting down the days till i fade for you.

morning after

2008-10-31T12:56:00.002+08:00

i woke up this morning. late again for work. i woke an hour and a half past the time i'm supposed to be already hunched over my laptop, done with checking the email, and already half-way through a new FAQ.

i woke up with a hollow feeling in my chest, as if my lungs got filled up with too much air and the cavities were screaming from overstretch. air that was dead. air that was starting to balloon my brain.

my eyelids were heavy- weak against the morning sun bursting from the tiny open window of my bedroom. i crawled under the comforter although it was damn warm. i crawled as if i was crawling into the dark hole in the ground.

i didn't want to face today. this present where nothing we talked about last night is real. today, we go back to being dumb dumbs.

365 days

2008-10-30T12:59:00.002+08:00

remember how it was last year? three candles atop the chocolate cake. your eyes smiling. amused. surprised. i lighted those candles. afterwards we went down for coffee and smokes. it was only days ago that i saw bismuth's mix- oct 2007 on my desk. a song about a 400-horsepower black mustang exploding on the highway like a slug from a .45

with or without you. it was great this year. the trick or treat fiesta of sorts. remember that kid in a tigger suit? how we thought it would be cooler if he was dressed up like kurt cobain in that mtv unplugged session? did the marks of the face paint go away? the dragon on your forehead.

the other day, Wil wondered about you. commenting that his PSP is already a year older too because he got at this time of the year last year, he remembered. you know how he is. he can copy voices. so he imitated you borrowing the console and getting caught by her while you were deep into the game.

remember the short girl you had more than 2 bottles of beer with? that night you drank cerveza negra because that was what i was drinking someplace else. she misses you too. we had fun before. we were like kids in college running about this place. not trying to fit in at all. we were carving our own niche with our own clique.

oh, i forgot. you'd be sad to know they shut down hot and saucy. and that burger place upstairs. all that's left of our hangout is coffee cal. amusing how much things change for the ones left behind.

so how was yesterday? was there cake?

here's how i'm celebrating your birthday

2008-10-22T21:37:00.005+08:00

i'm flying off to cebu for the weekend. there's a national beer drinking competition and i got invited to watch. have free booze. bum in a nice hotel at the beach front. bikinis. bikinis. beer. beer. and some stray jack daniels.

i'm loving JD these days. learned to drink it a year ago. somebody told me it's the drink of the loser stuck in agony and despair. i don't think i'm a loser. i can deal with stuck. i drink it straight without even ice now. how about that?

there's something in its smoky aroma. the first shot that momentarily burns my lips and leaves with a slight tingly sensation at the back of my tongue. and for a while my mind spaces out, fills up with a heady rush of sadness and longing and contemplation that lasts only seconds. as the whiskey courses down my throat, all my senses dwell on its trail of heat. i become closed to the outside world. there is only me. after the first shot, i watch the remaining amber liquid sit in my glass, like it can keep a secret and drown it forever. life is an illusion in its protracted light.

changed

2008-10-21T22:21:00.002+08:00

my hair was thinning. or was i being paranoid? anyway, i cut my very long hair (that reached down to my waist). and now it's short. very short. just a little below my earlobes now. and i feel a little more free.

i have no money. or am i just too extravagant on my "obligations"? anyway, i retired my xda after 3 years. i loved that phone but it hurt to see it being held together by scotch tape now. it was very good to me. and now i got sucked in to this overly commercialized iPhone 3G. i miss my xda mini. it still calls out to me.

but the past has a way of catching up with me. i told her to let me be. that i won't meet up with ian. that it's not true he's not yet over me. he left me, didn't he? what's the point of her bugging me? see, i've got new hair now. new phone. i've got someone new too (oh wait. i'm in the process of forgetting that someone).

and the other girl who stole my could have been wants to be friends with me. bugging me. what the hell's wrong with people? i've cut them all off already. i'm restraining myself from telling her if she does not leave me alone, she'd lose a husband. because he still loves me. loves me more. or maybe not. i don't believe him. but that's what he tells me. i don't really care. i've moved on.

my friend mussolini loves popping balloons. those girls mentioned above, will lose their happy balloons if they keep bugging me. move on people. i just happened to have long hair, a good career, legs that look good in short skirts; they just happened to like conversing with me. i was just being me. and i'm still me, sans the long hair. but leave me alone.

uh-oh

2008-05-15T21:40:00.004+08:00

no way you are like them. how can it be? i don't even try. drink your beer and let me be.
are you amused by my stories? i've got plenty. walk away while you can.
is it how i look at you from across the room? the side glances and the unabashed smiles. i do that every time. i'm a creep. i'm so fuckin' special. walk away now while you still can.

say what again? you like me and you wish i were there. do you imagine how lightly i stroked your arm with the tips of my nails? don't. stop while i can.

it's the same story over and over and over and over. and it always ends the same. don't ask me what happens. if you get on board this crazy roller coaster ride, you'll find out soon. but go, while you can still feel your legs.

did you spend your weekend staring out into the water? conjuring up mythical islands in the sun. drink your beer. let me be. you won't be different from them.

stuck in a moment

2008-05-05T22:53:00.003+08:00

car crashes into you. gaping faces and flying chinese men flash before your eyes. you know you are just imagining your mother kissing your forehead- the bitch left you when you were four years old. but the little girl who puts her dirty handkerchief over your gushing wound is real. you can smell the sampaguita she carelessly dropped beside your head. you flinch at the thought of contracting a disease from the poor bugger.

you cannot breathe and the crowd of people stupidly pointing out that you were hit, are blocking whatever polluted air from the gutters of manila wafts to you. you utter soft putang ina under heavy breathing. this is your worst fear- death by stupidity of others.

you reach in your pocket for your cellphone and dial a number. you grin- with the little strength left in you- at the thought, why can't emergency numbers be as easy to remember as 8-mcdo? U2 starts singing in your head- you are such a fool/to worry like you do/i know it's tough/ and you can never get enough/ you got to get yourself together/you're stuck in a moment and you can't get out of it.

wiggle your toes. yes, just like your uncle taught you for when you find yourself stiff from a nightmare. wiggle your toes now. wiggle them like the fate of the universe depends on it. you cannot bleed dry on this pavement. you are smarter than this. you cannot die just because of a stupid drunk. what about the rest of your life? what about your best laid out plans? the girl you married at 24? remember her? she used to be enough until that other girl when you were 30. remember the scent of her hair? and her legs. man! live, if only for that one month of bliss.

ok, so it's true everybody dies alone. but whose memory are you taking to the end? fuck! you're too young. not even that amazing one night in boracay can compensate for a short lived existence.

so what do you do?

in the arms of bliss

2008-04-22T21:05:00.000+08:00

giddy like a kid at the sight of cotton candy and balloons, i am dreaming of going back - seeing you again. perhaps swim in your sea of possibilities or wonder at the blueness of your sky and the quiet of your evenings.

your love has been waiting for vagabonds like me. in a little while, we will be flooding your streets with car races and drowning your stars with our uninhibited conversations. and as your moon will be reveling at how much we've grown yet feel the same, we will be playing with the shadows of your dark curbs and dirt roads and dead ends. your crevices hold their breaths for once more, we shall be whispering new secrets and old hopes.

i'm going back to you. my happiness overflows with my sadness. my frustrations collide with my expectations. i am anticipating better things ahead. but first i must see you and remember who i was when i was with you.

come away with me

2008-04-09T00:36:00.004+08:00

let's go. come away with me. forget about them. them deadlines. them hating you because you're beautiful or young or brilliant, or all of them together.

what are you waiting for? do you really want this life? have you no more dreams or whimsical hopes? what about happiness? yes, what about passion and wasting time and everything in between? what about regrets? they are real, like your pain or sadness now that you know you've made the mistake of forgetting or choosing the other way.

tell me, do you wonder about her? where is she now? your eyes don't look hopeful about the future. you are choosing to forget about the present instead of living it fully. what if you're really just a bug? a tiny one perched on the edge of a windowsill. anytime the wind blows, your flailing wings won't be any good. and what about the sunset? don't bugs die at sunset? stop looking in. dive and take your share. i am yours, am i not?

who do you want now? desire now. kiss now. take to bed and unveil the night of its mysteries. stop thinking it was a mistake. the heart never lies.

come away with me. let's go inside this parallel universe, in the corner of you know where. little bridge , little brook. i'll wait for you , same time?

if you believe in fate and all that crap

2008-02-20T15:23:00.002+08:00

This is getting funny. You and I meeting like this- straight out of a dating manual. Someone told me we were supposed to meet last year. Well, you are two months late. And what’s this about me not seeing you again for another six months?

It’s funny because you are everything they said you’d be. One of them said you have to be intelligent, profound. Another felt you’d be Caucasian- a mixed breed, perhaps of Asian and European descent. A fellow Capricorn said, you’d be younger but wiser, and most importantly- sexy and good looking ( oh yeah!). We’d have to share the same faith too- in divinity and in the healing powers of vanilla ice cream. And most probably, a rasta friend of mine said, I would be drinking beers (we had five different kinds- this I know you won’t forget) on the first meeting. A poet told me- this guy I would meet won’t be able to keep his eyes off me and will hang on to every word spoken and every gesture until finally we touch skin to skin, palm to palm. I only said I wanted you to be taller than me by a few inches. I have pictures. Wanna see how good we look good together?

funny, you could be the one and though you were late than predicted, i still feel i've met you too soon.

looking again

2008-02-14T16:14:00.002+08:00

he just left. i now have to find his replacement. so this is how it feels when someone from your team leaves and you're stuck with work and the possibility of no weekends again. drat! if you speak and write good english, play with human emotions and sensibilities, manipulate graphics/photos, smile against idiosyncrasies; lose your sanity but express your creativity nonetheless, send me an email. i need another bluff extraordinaire.

finders keepers

2008-01-18T23:39:00.000+08:00

i've lost something. i'm not sure what. or why. i just know when.
it was when i saw you again, quite unexpectedly. we didn't even bother to say hello.
it feels like it was too long ago. perhaps i just imagined most of it to be. willed them to being- those crazy hours we kept. and the hilarious surprises that kept us awake.
awake and aware of the tiniest details of our everyday that sprung to life.

too bad i didn't find you first. too bad i couldn't fight against misery and you leaving me.

should you want to know- yes, it was my birthday. and yes, i expected something out of the ordinary. like, perhaps, you coming back. or not. just a word from you?

what is it that i've lost?

scenes of my escape

2007-12-27T22:42:00.000+08:00

found pink floyd in a flea market- wished you were here.

looks like rain in dreamscape.

from my window seat, manila!

morning jogs along the paths into pinewood forests.

still wondering what it would feel like to fly a plane upside down and touch a cloud.

when you're going too fast, you may miss the interesting part of life's mundane curveballs.

escapist

2007-12-17T22:20:00.000+08:00

i just got back from two weeks of rock and rollin' around the country- north to south. if my boss hadn't stopped me, i should have been in tuguegarao by now, scared shit (not really) of rebels kidnapping me. two weeks of barely enough sleep. lots of alcohol. lots of nicotine. and plenty of players.

baguio was fuckin cold. i jogged in the morning- took in the pine-scented early morning air. it numbed my brain. the dude i jogged with talked non-stop about airsoft and war games. so everything was good.

davao was deliciously fun and warm. i liked the sun on my skin. i said to someone about two months ago that i would kiss a total stranger. well, the lead vocals of the band kissed me. i was shocked but what the hell. the kid was cute and he was singing pink floyd stuff. could you really blame me?

on to cebu... cebu was tiring. i got sick in cebu. i got sick remembering the last time i was there. in the same hotel. with the same crowd of people as audience to please. sick to my stomach thinking i should be kicking and screaming. crying, crushing things, throwing insults at anyone, at the wall, at the night. instead- there i was shouting at the band, singing along: It started out with a kiss. How did it end up like this? It was only a kiss, it was only a kiss!

back in manila, i have to deal with some very nasty truths. and working late again. missing my coffee breaks. making up excuses why my eyes look sad. telling them all i'm ok.

goodbyes suck.

everybody wants to rule the world

2007-11-29T17:40:00.000+08:00

the world, well our world over here, has gone mad (again). 30-50 military officers undergoing trial for failed coup attempts in the last couple of years (yep, one of them has just been elected senator) walked out of court and holed themselves up in one of the most posh hotels in this country's commercial district. they are trying to enjoin everybody else to join their cause- which honestly, is a lost one. even the weather is not cooperating. for most of us corporate slaves it just means work is suspended for most of the afternoon. and some of us now need to contend with possible crisis situation and save at any cost our business operations.

tumultuous times of our lives, dear ian. this is the country you have gone back to and which you will soon leave. but i do not envy you. earlier, as we were discussing contingencies- even when we know on the other side of this city and other parts of luzon, visayas and mindanao people are plotting (reds, black & white, greens, oranges, and the whole fuckin rainbow coalition)- we laughed at this. it seems a military uprising is just another one of them things that make us pinoys. people who can laugh at dead ideals and the lives that have been given us.

would i choose to be someone else? maybe a european perhaps or even japanese, if i had a chance? most probably not. i have done crazy stuff just because i could say "hey, i'm from the third world, what do you care?" or met crazy people like me just because i'm interesting with my stories of pasig river overflowing or eating large snakes cooked in pineapple or thumbing my nose at smelly expats or losing myself into a trance at car taillights during the rush hour.

dear ian, you will not forget me. unlike this mutiny in makati today, i won't be just a passing disturbance in your everyday. i will be like the first EDSA revolution - forever remembered as the one true thing. the nostalgia of it drive people like trillanes to relive it and believe it can't be right to just have one moment of a beautiful thing. but you only do get to have just one. what do you do then if you find yourself in that moment? i would like to believe you will drown yourself in every second, gorge its every detail, and live like you will never be the same again.

for her, if you want to...

2007-11-27T18:34:00.001+08:00

sunflower

missing a smile and a few thousand kisses

my hand warm against your cheek

brown eyes burn with the last of the afternoon sun

a look drilled into memory and a couple of dreams

amused at the small details-

the timbre of your laugh

and how you squint when a thought bothers your mind

but lovely you brighten my day

I have waited before for you- not minding sleep

I wait and wait, and will wait more

till once more you know you’re the only one

wander

2007-11-23T17:08:00.001+08:00

Today, a man washes soot from his face- his house burned to the ground. His children lost. His wife still does not know.

Somewhere in the world a woman puts on a veil to hide from the world. Learning how to forget and be forgotten. Sadness overflows and as if her body is about to tear out of its skin, she bends over and surrender to the tide- drowning herself in a pool of regret.

A child begs for a few coins- dodging this and that car. His big brown eyes burn from the oncoming headlights. His tiny feet tired from walking the length of the boulevard. Back and forth. In an endless cycle of dreamless existence handed down from his bastard father’s father.

Everyday you feel like a beat-up truck stuck in a pothole. You used to be in an all-time favorite champion team. A superstar in an all-star selection. Rockstar. Starter. Captain. Now you pull over to a gas station to buy a pack of cigarettes when you don’t even want to smoke. Just imagining the lit end to be a firefly drowsy with sleep, breaking the dark of your room.

alright, here goes love for the uninitiated

2007-11-20T09:59:00.000+08:00

Does it mean love when his scent lingers in the air for you. You breathe in and smell his skin, the mixture of sweat and the soap used on his shirt.

Is it love that ignites the desire to always have his arms wrapped around you? Missing the way his warm hands rubbing against the length of your legs the moment he leaves for the night? The way he bends and kisses your knee and buries his nose, tantalized with the thought he can suck in your very essence and live off of it.

Is it love when you laugh at the same things- off-color jokes and stupid juvenile pranks? Of fat little kids cussing and tormenting stupid adults? Drinking beer to good times. Coffee in the guise of breaking the monotony of work but in truth, just another excuse to get him alone.

Is it love when there is regret he met you too late? And all that’s left- because you choose to take the high road- is hope that this devastating physical attraction will not put a strain on this deeper connection you both feel. What is it when you cannot be in the same room when he talks to her softly and with a little strain because he misses her so much too?

Where does love reside? In the one he has committed to be with for the rest of friggin forever or in the one who makes him feel alive again? Because we are too young to define life as one strong line, paved with our plans for the future, how can one moment decide what we do with the rest of it?

Or is love really just a fickle bastard, pulling and shoving us whichever way it chooses because there are more than three billion people in the world and it is statistically incredulous that it is one person to one. So which one is it? Destiny or just damn luck- being in the right place at the right time, being the best girl at the moment when he decides you are the one?

Is love about quitting smoking- or at least trying to? Or getting the first drag from her after years of repulsing it? Because she chain smokes like a crazy chimney?

Is it planning for the three-day weekend because you know time flies when you’re together. But that no plans at all is also good enough? It does not matter what movie or where you’re driving to. Because being together is all you need.

Does it mean you love him when you respect his boundaries and decisions? Holding back your 113 reasons why you should be together, or hinder your hands from wandering too far? Because you only have one life to live. And what is it to you if you gain all the happiness in the world with him if you forfeit your soul- and consequently drag him down, down in a spiral of guilt?

Is it love when you choose to just take in these fleeting moments and mine them for every good thing you can take with you in your old age- where not even the snow can dampen the warmth in your chest where she used to lay her head? Or the din of the crowded streets of New York can drown her voice in your ear. Or wherever she finds herself in whatever corner of the world- when she sleeps, she’ll always imagine when her incubus frightens her in her sleep- you’re there to comfort her, stroking her back, enticing her vivid dreams.

coffee breaks

2007-11-16T12:01:00.001+08:00

all the waiting over cups of coffee- black

And the lingering taste of caramel melting

In the heat, and even in the cold of this well-lighted place

The sweet kiss goodnight

Of not knowing when

The next time you will reach for my hand

Over paper table mats

And tiny puddles of ice water

bridging moments

2007-11-05T06:47:00.000+08:00

two people on a bridge- a picture of many metaphors. the girl looks at him intently while he talks of another lifetime or is it a parallel universe? she smiles thinking how easy really it is for her to let people open up to her about their fears and loves and dreams. But how it is only now that she finds herself sharing the same intimate things- thoughts and feelings and yes, fears and loves lost and hopes flowing out to him like the brook under the bridge. sharing not only in words but in gestures and looks and touch and in the moments where some truths are left silent.

he revels at how the hours quickly dissolve into picturesque moments in their heads. nights into early mornings and afternoons into dusks of fireflies and soft light. if life is only a composition of finite moments- from one breath to another- do we live for the future or for the now? and in which little corner in your head do you fit the battle between commitment and regret- and their spawn, guilt?

what if we don’t have any notions of right and wrong? we are only aware of happiness and sadness and the things in between? and we just cross bridges and on some, linger a bit longer than the day allows?

regret is a pestilence

2007-10-30T21:26:00.000+08:00

Outside the world lives. The pavement still wet from the rain. A man leans against a lamppost smoking. The air light and the cloudless sky stares back blankly at the night.

A girl sits by her window. Perhaps struggling with a memory hazy from the lingering effects of alcohol and melancholy. His fingers have left prints on her arm- that and the aching longing in her lips were all that’s left of the hurried kiss.

In the empty streets of 2 am, secrets are spilled out into the gutters- to be forgotten in the morning. forbidden lustful gazes and touch unbridled taunt the stars envious of human frailty.

Bourbon bottles emptied into shot glasses sweating into polished bar tables. Deep in the consciousness regret and longing burn against complicity and fate.