Of Cats and Men

2005-10-12T03:06:00.000+08:00

Publikasyong Iglap ng Maikling-maikling Kuwento Hinggil sa Karahasan sa Kilusang Manggagawa

Kasalukuyan kaming naghahanap ng mga maikling-maikling maikling kuwento o dagli na tumatalakay sa lalo pang paparahas na kalagayan ng mga manggagawa sa Pilipinas. Sa partikular, naghahanap kami ng mga kuwentong tumatalakay at tumutuligsa sa brutal na pagpaslang kay Ka Fort ng unyon ng Nestle at sa iba pang mga manggagawa at kilusang manggagawang kumakaharap ng pagsasamantala ng mga kapitalista. Gayundin, naghahanap kami ng mga kuwentong tumatalakay sa patuloy na pagwelga at paglaban ng unyon at mga manggagawa ng Nestle at ng iba pang kolektibong laban ng mga unyon at manggagawa. Ito ang susunod na lalamanin ng espesyal na isyu ng Publikasyong-Iglap.

Ang Publikasyon-Iglap ang kagyat na pagtugon ng mga manunulat hinggil sa kaganapan sa ating bansa. Nauna na na nitong inilathala ang Pakikiramay (2004, pagpugay sa mga biktima ng masaker sa Hacienda Luisita) at Truth and Consequence (2005, koleksyon ng tula sa kampanyang Oust Gloria!).

Maaaring magpadala ng isang maikling-maikling kuwento kada awtor. Maximum ng tatlong pahina, doble espasyo. Ipadala kasama ang maikling bionote o writer's profile at kontak na mga numero sa mangiglap@yahoo.com at/o mangewan@gmail.com. Para sa mga katanungan, magpadala ng email kina Rolando Tolentino, Joey Baquiran at/o Mykel Andrada o di kaya'y kumontak sa 0915-4413324 at/o 0919-6384488.

Ang deadline ay sa Nobyembre 15, 2005.

2005-07-18T03:46:00.000+08:00

L A G D A
Opisyal na Publikasyon (Refereed)
ng Departamento ng Filipino at Panitikan ng Pilipinas,
Unibersidad ng Pilipinas - Diliman

Mahal na mga Kasama:

Pagbati!

Kasalukuyang nangangalap ng mga artikulo at malikhaing akda ang Departamento ng Filipino at Panitikan ng Pilipinas (DFPP) para sa isyu ng Lagda hinggil sa Kulturang Popular, Sekswalidad at Panitikan. Kaugnay rin ito ng planong pagbubuo ng teksbuk na magagamit sa pagtuturo ng Pan Pil 17 (Panitikan at Kulturang Popular) at Pan Pil 19 (Panitikan, Kasarian at Sekswalidad) sa Unibersidad.

Malugod namin kayong iniimbitahang magsumite ng inyong mga natatanging sanaysay at pananaliksik, at mga maikling kuwento, tula, dula at iba pang porma ng malikhaing akdang tumatalakay sa masalimuot na larangan ng kulturang popular at sekswalidad sa Pilipinas. Ilan sa mga iminumungkahi naming paksain ninyo ay ang sumusunod:

1. Ang Transpormasyon/Transisyon ng mga Serye sa Komiks Tungong Teleserye (Kampanerang Kuba, Panday, Darna at iba pa)
2. Independent Film Making sa Pilipinas
3. Panitikan sa Internet (blog, fan fiction, hypertext, atbp)
4. Gay at Lesbian clubs/pubs (Government, Red Banana, Fahrenheit, atbp)
5. Panitikang Chic o Chic literature
6. Panitikang popular sa mga rehiyon (nobelang romansang Iluko, Bisaya, atbp)
7. Piniratang DVD sa Quiapo
8. Gloria-gate CD, ringtone at text jokes
9. Artista bilang kultural na texto (Anne Curtis, Ethel Booba, Willie Revillame, atbp)
10. Pagsulpot ng iba’t ibang All Male Groups (Viva Hot Men, Masculados, Barakos, atbp)
11. Reproduksyon at Refabrikasyon ng tv game shows (Game KNB?, Wowowee, atbp)
12. Pagsulpot ng Gateway sa Cubao
13. Birtuwal na relasyon: E-chat, Avatar, Friendster, hi5, Photobucket, Flickr, atbp
14. Bagong advertising strategies ng fastfood chains tulad ng McDonald’s atbp
15. Virgin Cola
16. Star Circle Quest, Starstruck, American Idol, Hollywood Dream, atbp

Ang mga akda ay dapat nakasulat sa Filipino, kompyuterisado (Times New Roman, 12 font size, double space), orihinal at hindi pa nalalathala. Ang mga sanaysay at pananaliksik ay dapat sumunod sa APA Manual of Style. Punan ang mga kahingian sa Form 1 (Atestasyon ng Orihinalidad) na makukuha kay Ate Susan o Ate Marie ng DFPP. Ipadala ito kasama ang tatlong kopya ng inyong akda at ang diskette copy nito sa: Isyu Editor, Lagda, DFPP, UP Diliman. Sa Hulyo 30, 2005 (Sabado) ang huling araw ng pagsusumite.

Para sa mga katanungan, magpadala ng e-mail kay G. Mykel Andrada at/o kay Prop. Will Ortiz sa puzong@gmail.com o di kaya’y mag-text sa 0915-4413324.

Malugod naming aasahan na kayo’y makatrabaho.

Maraming salamat!

Sumasaiyo,

Prop. Eugene Y. Evasco
Editor ng Isyu, Lagda

G. Mykel Andrada
Prop. Will Ortiz
Mga Kawaksing Editor

2005-04-04T05:32:00.000+08:00

ANTOLOHIYA HINGGIL SA KILUSANG PAGGAWA

Inaanyayahan ang lahat ng mga manggagawa at mga manunulat na magsumite ng kanilang mga maikling kuwento para sa isang antolohiya hinggil sa Kilusang Paggawa sa Pilipinas, sa partikular, ang pagpupursigi ng Kilusang Mayo Uno at iba pang konektado rito, hinggil sa mga isyu ng manggagawa at sa pakikipagsapalaran, pakikibaka, at tagumpay ng Kilusang Paggawa sa Pilipinas sa pamamagitan ng isang kolektibong pagkilos.

Nais taluntunin ng antolohiyang ito ang kasaysayan ng kilusang paggawa sa Pilipinas (at ang koneksyon nito sa pandaigdigang kilusang paggawa), ang mga isyu ng manggagawa tulad ng kontraktwalisasyon, subkontraktwalisasyon, “rationalization” ng mga ahensiya’t institusyon ng pamahalaan, relasyon ng kapitalista at manggagawa, relasyon ng mga manggagawa, unfair labor practices, sexual harassment sa pagawaan, mga personal (at pulitikal) na testimonya, at ang pagbubudyong ng vanguard class ng isang kolektibong pagkilos upang makamit ang tunay na kalayaan at demokrasya. At marami pang iba.

Itataon ang publikasyong ito sa pagdiriwang ng Araw ng Paggawa sa Mayo 1, 2005. Kung kaya, inaasahan naming maipadadala ninyo ang inyong mga kontribusyong maikling kuwento tungkol sa at/o likha ng manggagawa sa Abril 13 (Miyerkules).

Ipadala sa mangiglap@yahoo.com. Kung may katanungan, magpadala ng email kina Joey Baquiran, Joi Barrios, Roland Tolentino o Mykel Andrada ng Congress of Teachers/Educators for Nationalism and Democracy (CONTEND) ng UP Diliman o di kaya’y magtext sa 0915-4413324.

Maraming salamat!

2005-04-01T03:49:00.000+08:00

PANAWAGAN PARA SA KONTRIBUSYON SA PUBLIKASYONG-IGLAP HINGGIL SA TERORISMO NG ESTADO

Ito na naman kami. Wag kayong mabibigla.

Ang publikasyong-iglap ng Congress of Educators/Teachers for Nationalism and Democracy (CONTEND) ay muling nananawagan at humihingi ng kontribusyon para sa isang aklat hinggil sa tumitinding atake laban sa mga progresibong indibidwal at grupo, sa partikular, sa Bayan Muna. Sa loob lamang ng walong araw, limang indibidwal ang tinambangan na – dalawang human rights lawyer, isang pesante, isang city councilor, at iba pa. Ito’y manipestasyon ng tumitinding terorismo ng estado laban sa mga tumutuligsa rito.

Ayaw na natin ng may susunod pa. Kaya heto ang abang kontribusyon sa mala-kisap-matang pagpaslang na nagaganap ngayon. Dahil ang isang iglap ng pagkitil – ang sistematikong maiglap na pagkitil ng estado – ay kailangan agarang tapatan sa pamamagitan ng iba’t ibang porma, isa na ang publikasyong-iglap. Ipadala ang inyong kontribusyon – tula, dagli (maikling-maikling kuwento), maikling kuwento, sanaysay, statement, titk ng awit at iba pang genre – para sa publikasyong iglap.

Dahil nga ito ay mabilisan, ang deadlayn o huling araw ng pagsusumite ay sa Abril 8 (Biyernes). Ipagpaumanhin ang maikling panahong inilalaan, dahil HINDI NA ITO MAKAPAGHIHINTAY PA!

Ipadala sa manlabusaw@yahoo.com. Kung may katanungan, hanapin sina Joey Baquiran, Joi Barrios, Roland Tolentino at Mykel Andrada, o tumawag / magtext sa 0915-4413324 o mag-email sa manlabusaw@yahoo.com.

Ang Publikasyong-Iglap ay proyektong kultural at pulitikal ng CONTEND na agarang tumutugon sa matitinding isyu ng panahon at lipunan. Makiisa!

Maraming salamat.

2005-02-03T20:57:00.000+08:00

EROTIKA/O

Inaanyayahan ang lahat ng mga kuwentista na magsumite ng kanilang maikling kuwento para sa book project na Erotika/o ng KATHA. Ang KATHA ay isang grupo ng mga makabayang kabataang kuwentista sa Filipino.

Layunin ng aklat-proyekto na tipunin ang pinakamahuhusay na maikling kuwentong nakasulat sa FILIPINO na pumapaksa sa erotika/o. Paksain ang lahat ng karanasan at bagay na may tuon sa konstruksyon, produksyon, dekonstruksyon at reproduksyon ng erotika/o: mula sa mga personal na danas hanggang sa pulitika at estetika ng nagbabagu-bagong konsepto ng libog, libido, subliminal, sekswal na usapin, at ang mga relasyong pangkapangyarihan, pangkasarian, pang-ekonomiya’t pampulitika na bumabalot at iniinugan ng Erotika/o.

Halimbawa, talakayin kung paanong ang kabataan sa kasalukyang panahon ay nagdidiskurso ng kanyang erotisismo at kaluguran – sa tao, hayop, bagay at kalikasan. Paano magpahayag ng erotisismo ang isang katulong o jeepney driver o janitor? Bakit kapag nakakakita ka ng saging ay hindi lang pagkain ang naiisip mo? Bakit matamis ang santol? Bakit bawal makipagtalik sa loob ng simbahan? Paano nagkakaroon ng kapangyarihan ang tao sa dilim? At marami pang iba. Ikaw na ang bahalang dumiskarte.

Ipadala ang inyong mga maikling kuwentong erotiko/a sa katha_erotika@yahoo.com o di kaya’y sa manlabusaw@yahoo.com. Para sa mga katanungan, magpadala ng email sa nasabing mga address o di kaya’y magtext sa 0917-8344746. Ang mga isusumiteng akda ay daraan sa pagpili ng mga editor na sina Rolando B. Tolentino, Joi Barrios, Joey Baquiran at Mykel Andrada.

HULING ARAW (DEADLINE) NG PAGSUSUMITE: PEBRERO 28, 2005.

2004-09-04T02:03:00.000+08:00

Last Entry aka An Attempt at Dismantling Simulacra

Dear Everyone,

This pains me. The act of ending something that I have started. Something that I have cultivated for so long. But let this be my swan song, for now. My last entry.

Catukayo will forever be with you.

I feel that I have defeated the purpose of blogging, i.e. to write without censorship, without inhibitions. To write freely. But lately, I have found myself consigned to rules, my privacy invaded, and my words concealing feelings and lying, badly lying. Needless to say, it was and still is not a good feeling.

I once told Mitzie not to delete her blog. So she created a new one.

I have a new blog. I bore it into this cyberworld Wednesday, September 1, 2004. But accept my apologies. Only I will be able to read it.

Instead of writing THE END, I write here START.

See you in real life.

Best wishes,
Mykel

si ma'am! (mula sa flickr account ni piya)

2004-08-22T14:38:00.000+08:00

si ma'am!
Originally uploaded by piya.

Mayroon kaming titser dati na mukhang pusa. Tsaka boses pusa. Pero hindi ko na ilalagay kung sino siya dito sa blog ko. Anyway, dahil sa features na iyon ni Ma'am, pinangalanan itong pusang ito na Ma'am dahil sa sobrang kakyutan. Nakuha ko ito mula sa flickr account ni piya. At dahil mahilig ako sa pusa, eto na siya sa aking blog, at wala sa trash can.

2004-08-22T11:34:00.000+08:00

Another Sunday

In a few minutes I'll be going to UP again. Yesterday I spent the whole afternoon in UP's Filipino Department to finish immediate matters related to the LanDICHOhan, Parangal kay Dr. Domingo Landicho, who's to retire this October. The memo informing me that I'm to be punong-abala of the said event came to my pigeonhole only three weeks ago; I surmise it's not enough time to come up with a rather bongacious program.

Anyway, I'm glad UGATin friends helped me with some difficult technical matters, such as the layouting of posters, tarpaulin, and invitation. And the like. We left UP around 11pm. I got home around midnight and tried to pamper myself with small talks with my mom and my friend Chitchat.

Now, I'm all set to go back to UP; to finish my report for tomorrow. I have made my outline two days ago, and all I need is to eviscerate words and to systematically and logically put them into writing. The 12 books that I borrowed from the library should be enough to cover my report on ANG PAGPAPASULPOT NG MGA ISKOLAR PAMPANITIKAN MULA SA MGA REHIYON.

Hopefully, in three hours time I'll be printing my paper. And hopefully, I'd be able to join Caloy and Piya on an ukay-ukay and bookhunting trip in Cubao later this afternoon.

CONSPIRACY

Punta kayo sa Conspiracy Garden Cafe sa Visayas Avenue sa Martes, Agosto 24, 9pm. Gabi ito ng "Tulang UP, Makatang DFPP" bilang bahagi ng pagdiriwang ng Buwan ng Wika ngayong Agosto. Magtatanghal ako kasama ang gitaristang-gurong si Vlad ng maikling awitin ng The Beatles.

2004-08-21T20:54:00.000+08:00

New Blogs and New Blog Buddies

N, a friend of mine who recently won a Palanca for her poetry, changed her blog.

P, my dear friend and library buddy, created her own blog a week ago.

V, who's very upset right now because of his mother's incongruous accusations, has Justin Timberlake for his newly-created blog's skin.

F, my dear dear friend, is contemplating on starting a new blog because he thinks he's moving on. And possibly, in love.

And I. I squint.

There. She. Goes. There. She. Goes. Again.

2004-08-15T22:29:00.000+08:00

Paglalatag

Mabilis lang ito. Kanina, habang papabalik sa UP galing sa Napoli's sa Timog ay napakislot ako habang nakatingin sa langit. Madilim na noon, at sa gitna ng ingay nina Caloy, Regan at Veejay -- at sa gitna ng katahimikan ni Piya -- ay biglang parang bumagsak na kumot ang ulan sa bubungan at salamin ng kotse ni Veejay. Sabi ko sa sarili, "lumalatag na naman ang tubig."

Marami talagang naiisip ang tao kapag umuulan: takot sa baha, mga damit na kailangang isilong, bintanang dapat ipinid, panalangin na walang pasok kinabukasan, mga alagang pusang pinangangambahang tikatikin ng luhang-ulan, at payong -- payong na laging nakakalimutan.

2004-08-14T23:42:00.000+08:00

Barangay Tanod

May partikularidad ang tanod,
tulad ng daniw sa isang malabay
na pagtatagpo. Nagbabantay,
nakatayo man o nakaupo,
nang lapat sa lupa ang talampakan,
ang pinaka-aba
sa lahat ng abang ginoo.

Matampusa ang kaniyang paningin
kahit na lango sa gin (pangimay
sa haplit ng lamig). Sabi niya,
marahil, sa isang nangangaligkig
na tinig: "Pinagpapawisan sa lamig
ang langit." Nangungusap siya
na parang lambong ng mga dahon
ng kawayan sa kaniyang ulunan.

Pinagyayakap niya ang mga palad,
sariling paghuhulas ng init
habang inuusal sa isip
kung kamusta kaya
ang kaniyang kaniig-kamay.
Alam niyang ang alaala
ay mas matapang pa
sa barakong gin.
Ganun kung manulay ang dibdib
sa mga gabing malamig.

2004-08-08T13:13:00.000+08:00

Lost Files: X Files

The computer technician left a few minutes ago. He had a lonely austere look when he left, maybe because the news he delivered to me was as sad as a grave: CAN'T RETRIEVE YOUR FILES.

I’m on panic mode. Imbey! Things like this, I only have myself to blame. Bakit di ka kasi nagba-backup ng files? That’s generally the sentiment I elicited from some friends I texted. You can write other masterpieces, they say. But it’s not the idea of magnum opuses I’m really tinkering with. It’s the thought of a history I have written. Of a life that I have lived. And it’s not just the literary life.

I have a lot of researches that I have entrusted my computers for safe-keeping. Seven years of academic and scholarly research. Eight or more years of theoretical application work. Everything down the drain. How am I going to rewrite them? I have deadlines to meet. Sana lang makuha ko mula sa mga titser ko (kung nandito pa sila sa Pilipinas at kung di pa sila buwang o kaya’y nahihimbing na sa sementeryo) ang mga ipinasa kong papel dati.

A week or two ago, when I finally realized that this mammoth worm of a virus infected my computers, I was still optimistic that a techie will be able to save my works. But now that the techie had tried all morning to do a Jesus-to-Lazarus spectacle, needless to say, the miracle was as elusive as my wish for a no-rain-day today.

Hay Mykel. Don’t wallow too much. Start anew. Mantra. Mantra. Mantra. My tummy’s grumbling. Time to eat.

2004-08-02T22:31:00.000+08:00

(Familia)rity

While crossing the busy Commonwealth Road from Wendy's Tandang Sora, 8pm, I was tinkering with a thought, a happy thought: Appointment. Finally, after two months of waiting, I received a copy of my appointment as Instructor. A week more and I will have my salary in bulk. :)

I almost got hit by a bus. I snarled a bit, trying to gain composure. Then I thought of a first liner for a future poem: "Pinaka-aligaga ang lungsod tuwing umuulan." Jeeps and cars were honking, and I was pretty sure that their tires were tired due to ennui. The Winston Lights I lit while waiting for Daryl and Vlad to board an SM Fairview bus was 2/3 consumed when this vagrant psychotic approached me and asked for my cigar. I gave it to him immediately and he drew open his curtain lips to show his dirty teeth. "Ayos lang po," I said and then he walked away, waving at me in glee.

After four Quiapo-bound jeeps passed, the Quiapo-bound jeep I was waiting for arrived. My Quiapo-bound jeep was (and will always be) a jeep with an empty front seat. This space allows me to smoke. Three sticks measure my Philcoa-Welcome, Rotonda travel. The night cold was biting my skin and gnarling my hair. Buti na lang strong hold ang gel ko. I saw my face in the right side mirror. It was blurry because of the jeep's velocity.

I got home around 9pm. My mom was doing the dishes. She asked me if I saw Jay-ar outside. Told her hindi. Tried to finish some school stuff. Logged on. While surfing for some theoretical goobles on R. M. Rilke for a paper I'm writing about time-space continuum in poetry, my mom, voice in distress, called my name. It was about my dad. When I went upstairs, my dad was (and is still) a mess, lying on the bed. He was half-unconscious, drunk and words coming out of his mouth were garbled. "Maya't maya tumatayo siya tapos inuuntog ang ulo sa dingding," my mom said. "Lasing ba?" I asked while touching his neck. He felt cold like the night wind. My mom asked me to get a glass of water.

When I went upstairs, my dad was on the floor. He wanted to go downstairs and poo, but his legs, limping, failed him. I called on Mark to help me help our dad stand up. "Ambigat!" Mark and I wailed. Mark was laughing, while I was, again, remembering distaste. My head was a heavy pendulum in constant swing. Then I remembered that a few hours ago, my favorite mp3 downloads CD broke. Daryl gave it to me two weeks ago. My favorite track and music video: Fiona Apple's Paper Bag. I texted her. She said that she still has a copy of the same selection. She promised to give me another copy. Yes!

Good night, Mykel. See how your dad's doing.

Macho Bedspacer

2004-08-02T00:07:00.000+08:00

This is my first attempt at blogging photos. And I chose the seminal poster made by Chu for our short film entry to the Cinemalaya 2004. Can't wait to start shooting. In case you're wondering where I am in this picture, well, definitely I'm not the one who looks like a Darth Vader cum Princess Urduja. My favorite color? Yellow.

bedspacerposter
Originally uploaded by catukayo.

2004-08-01T10:46:00.000+08:00

Postscript

This need not escape my day. Just got word from Doc Don that my kidney stones are tunaw na. Something to make me etch a smile on my face and sing a happy song. :) I texted a few people. Needless to say, B was first.

And again, needless to say, this is the first day of August.

2004-08-01T08:25:00.000+08:00

Karen Moving In

It's been three weeks since I lost my own room. Maybe "lost" is not the appropriate word. More of "lent." Three weeks ago, my brother Mark asked me if he can occupy my room because Karen, her pregnant girlfriend, is moving in our house. They're going to be married (civil) sometime this month or September.

It wasn't really a hard decision for me. I love my brother and would give him anything that I can manage to give up. Besides, I barely go home early. And as soon as I'm financially stable, I'll find an apartment near U.P.

Sometimes I would wonder if it pains my mother that I treat our home like a boarding house. A couple of nights ago, she asked me how I was doing. It was really late, around 11pm, and her prodding made me stare blankly. I told her that I was okay. "Pumapayat ka lalo," she observed. "May pagkain pa ba? Nagugutom na kasi ako," I replied.

The next day, I was moderating the class discussion of a poem entitled Alabang Trip: about "trips" and "memories." All of a sudden, a guy student recounted how trips reminded him of his "love." Then a girl commented and then started talking about her own experiences. After quite a long discussion, a girl raised her right hand to get my attention. I called her. "Sir, have you ever been in love?" she asked. I went blank for a while. I wanted to tell her that "I am in love and waiting for the right time" but I just curved my lips to form a smile that even my eyes can't feign. My face was a large strawberry. They went wooing like mad dogs.

"So, who's the lucky girl, sir?" a varsity basketball player student asked. I nearly choked. The same prodding went on and on until I raised my two hands as if surrendering. They went silent, awaiting for the parting of my lips:

"Class dismissed."

2004-07-31T08:21:00.000+08:00

Pantal at Poste

Nagising ako kaninang alas singko na iniinda ang kati sa katawan. Paghawak ko sa noo ko ay may mga namumugtong pantal. Hinubad ko ang t-shirt ko at nakita kong pulampula ang dibdib ko. Mabilis akong bumaba para manalamin. Tumalikod ako, nilingon ang likod ko sa salamin, at nakita ko ang kakaibang mapa ng mundo sa aking likod, pulu-pulong pantal na pula.

Naiyak ako dahil wala akong magawa. Ampula-pula ng leeg ko, pati mga braso ko ay puro pantal. Baka allergy raw sabi ng Nanay at Tatay ko. Ano bang kinain ko kagabi? Pansit lang naman at mangga, at maraming tubig matapos uminom ng sodium bicarbonate. Nung matapos naman kaming manood ng Imelda nina Caloy, Vlad at Piya ay nakikain lang ako ng french fries sa McDonald's sa SM North Edsa.

Kumuha ako ng alkohol tapos pinahiran nang bahagya ang mga pantal. Mainit.

Umiiyak akong umupo sa sopa (na car seat dati ng van) sa sala. Tapos naalala ko na dalawang sunod na araw na pala akong umiiyak. Kagabi kasi, matapos manood ng Imelda, wala na akong pera maliban sa P5.50. Pagpunta nga namin sa SM, eksakto lang ang pera ko: P86.50. P81 para sa tiket ng Imelda. At P5.50 na pamasahe. Kaya di ako nakabili ng sarili kong meal sa McDo kagabi. Nahihiya na rin akong umutang kay Vlad dahil marami na akong utang sa kaniya, at kalilibre lang niya sa akin sa Oz nung isang gabi, tapos siya ba ang nagbayad ng taksi. Ganun din, nahihiya rin ako kina Piya at Caloy kasi lagi na rin akong humihiram sa kanila. Kaya nang nagyaya sila sa McDo, sabi ko sasama ako pero di ako kakain kasi busog pa ako.

Nung maghihiwalay na kami, biglang sumagi sa isip ko na, "Shet, nasa SM nga pala kami at uuwi ako sa Sampaloc." Kaya humiram ako ng P2.00 kay Caloy dahil iniisip ko P7.50 lang naman siguro ang pamasahe. Antagal ko bago nakasakay ng jeep papuntang Welcome, Rotonda. May ilang taksing huminto sa harapan ko, akala ng mga tsuper ay may pambayad ata ako. E wala.

Buti na lang dumating na yung hinihintay kong jeep. Sa harapan ako nakaupo at tinanong ko ang drayber kung magkano ang pamasahe hanggang Welcome. "P8.50," sabi niya. "Di ba P7.50 lang po?" kinakabahan na tanong ko. "Hanggang Banawe lang yun," sabi niya. Iniabot ko sa kaniya ang P7.50. "Sa Banawe na lang po ako."

Sa tapat ng McDonald's Banawe cor. Quezon Ave. ako ibinaba ng drayber. Ayaw huminto sa pagpalag ng dibdib ko nung buong biyahe. Hanggang sa mag-para ako ay may garalgal ang boses ko: nagsasalimbayawan ang galit at awa sa sarili. Malayo ang lalakarin ko mula Banawa hanggang Welcome hanggang sa bahay ko sa Iba. Habang naglalakad, sinapu-sapo ko ang bulsa ko. Wala talagang naligaw o natira kahit piso. Madilim. May kakaibang nakaririnding katahimikan ang gabi, ang mga gilid ng gusali, ang masukal na singit ng lungsod -- lahat nagpapaalala sa akin kung paanong natitiis kong di kumain nang buong araw, ng mga nakalipas na araw, dahil sa halip na pagkain ay gamot ang binibili ko. Na padating ko sa bahay sa gabi, tsaka lang ako makakabawi ng pagkain.

Binilang ko na lang kung ilang poste ang nadaraanan ko, hanggang sa ang habag ay magsakatawang-tubig-alat mula sa mata, hanggang sa di ko na matandaan kung ilang poste na ba ng ilaw ang niyuyukuan ko sa paglalakad pauwi.

2004-07-26T05:38:00.000+08:00

Class Goat

Sa bahay, wala kayong remote
control, kaya emote ka nang emote
sa inggit dahil, "take note,"
sabi mo, and i quote,
"ang bahay ko'y wala sa remote."

Kaya matapos mong dutdutin
ang Power ON button ng segunda manong
telebisyong itinaksi pa ng tatay mo
mula Cubao patungong Payatas
(kaya nagtiis kayong walang kasamang pambara
ang kanin kinahapunan), nagulat ka
sa malalaking nakausling ngipin
ng nag-i-Ingles sa Malakanyang.
"Small but terrible," pasikat mo sa tatay,
at nanay, at nakababatang mga kapatid mo.
"Kuya, ano yung te-re-bol?" tanong ng bunso.
"Kinatatakutan," mabilis mong pakli,
dahil ikaw lang, sa pagkakaalam mo,
ang tanging nakatungtong sa kolehiyo
sa baranggay ninyo.
"Matalino talaga itong si Kiko natin.
Buti't di nagmana sa atin,"
sabay hagalpak ng mga magulang mo.

Ngunit nang itaas ng babaeng nagmamay-ari
ng nakausling mga ngipin
ang kanyang mga kamay,
parang naholdap na pitaka ang bibig mo:
wala nang mailabas pa.
Laluna nang tanungin ka ng nanay mo:
"Ano yung ten-point program?"
Saglit kang napadta, at para di mapahiya,
nagpalusot ka:

"Ipinapaliwanag niya ang ibig sabihin
ng kantang Sampung mga Daliri."
Pagkabanggit mo sa pamagat
ng kanta, nagsitayuan ang mga kapatid mo't
nagsimulang magpamutawi
habang di sabay-sabay na binabaligtad
ang kanilang mga palad.

"Talaga? Di ka nagsisinungaling?"

Ang dila mo'y huling linya ng kantang-bata,
ninakaw na pitaka,
at remote control na nawawala.

2004-07-25T11:49:00.000+08:00

Decalogue

1. I hope that someone gets my message in a bottle. Sting's strained voice is a cacophony of words heralding the saundering of the rain.
2. Remember: No more I-mesh, No more Kazaa. Lest you want a colonial invasion of worms and viruses.
3. Wallow for a while, but do not disparage. You may have lost all your files (read: a collection of 50 unfinished poems and 8 unfinished stories) because of the dreaded internet worm, but you can write a story or two about it. Answer: how does a writer reconstruct his/her lost works. Put it into writing.
4. Work ethics is important. Do not falter, when everyone else tells you that you're "all work and no play." Because you're not. You do have some zest in your life. You go out with friends, you meet new people in and out of the academe, you're happy with your regular company in the Filipiniana section of the Main Library, and you've just read your poems and sang in two cultural events in UP last Friday, and of course, you've gone inviting students and teachers in around 80 classes for tomorrow's State of the Nation Address (SONA). Don't forget to wear red.
5. Be health-conscious. Drink your medicine while contemplating on Roland's suggestion for your thesis next semester. A few swigs of beer is not bad, even your doctor told you that. It's diuretic. Remember, last night, at My Brother's Moustache, you had a good deal of free beer (it's KatMac's birthday!) while listening to Asin's live performance. You had to go eight times to and fro the comfort room behind the stage.
6. Save. Since you haven't gotten any salary yet (you're awaiting for the UP President's approval of your appointment), you're told that you'll get your salary in bulk first week of August. Peso sign in your eyes. Pay your debts and dues. And save for a pair of leather shoes and a pair of red Chucks.
7. You have friends outside your U.P. circle. Do not forget that.
8. Struggle and survive. You're not doing anything wrong with your political activism. As Mao Tsetung puts it: "Let a hundred flowers bloom; Let a thousand schools of thought contend." That is the essence of contradiction and development.
9. Be strong. You were born on the Chinese year of the Horse. Because the meek shall inherit the earth.
10. Keep your unsent love letters and poems. One day you'll be able to send them.

2004-07-22T06:32:00.000+08:00

Condoning Collegian

I woke up six am, to my Nokia's snoozing. I just finished brushing my teeth and styling my hair. While gluing my hair in a Ragnarok fashion, I remembered how the Collegian's six am water felt: how my ears shied like a makahiya, and how my feet, hands, and fingers coalesced like butter. The Collegian office, this Collegian office, four flights of stairs, how it almost reaches the stratosphere.

Caloy is still sleeping. I have tried several times to wake him up; he opens his eyes -- like doors slighlty pushed -- but shut instantly. We made it to this office around 2am, climbed the four flights, and clambered our way to cyberworld and sleepworld. He slept at around 3am; while I stayed up until 4:30am.

It's almost seven o'clock. No need to hurry, Mykel. You're just 5 minutes away from your first class. Don't forget to drink your medicine, to eat first before consuming sodium bicarbonate and llanol, and reduce your nicotine intake. Remind yourself to go to Ateneo after your last class. And watch Imelda, okay?

2004-07-22T03:37:00.000+08:00

Focault's Fingers

He remembers mnemosyne
and her conception of time
in a vacuum of locuses.
Vacuous, he one said,
a ditortion of orbits
in an ever-changing space:
leaves in a perenniality
of downfall, a sky efervescent
with clouds of discontent,
much like a wanting
or a need to be calm.

Under this tree, he forks
his fingers, a graceful captivity
of the moon: "I have the silver
plate beetween my thumb
and pointy." He muses it
to be another's eye, a refraction
of words, light dissolving
into his paper eyes.

2004-07-15T13:20:00.000+08:00

Something Lengthy

I was supposed to write something verbose here. They're all swirling in my head, waiting to be eviscerated and then fall flat on this space. But someone just rang my cellphone. A student requesting for an interview. Duty calls. Better get going.

P.S.
I hope to make up for my failure to submit a paper. 5.0. Hurtful. 5.0!

2004-07-11T20:59:00.000+08:00

Riddle No.1

It feels like wind
Between my palms
And water
On my nape
A fluid flush
Unseen
Unheld
But
Felt

2004-07-06T08:58:00.000+08:00

Another Tuesday

Today is the first Tuesday of July. And I find myself eating the tuna sandwich my mom fixed me this morning. While, of course, contemplating on what to write here.

I woke up even before Mashimaro (the alarm clock) and Mommy snapped their tongues. I was looking at the yellow papers of legends that my students wrote. I fell asleep while checking them (ergo, I wasn't able to finish the 30 plus legends). The moment I got up, I scoured for my Tranformer Cellphone and there was a pending message. It was from KG. KG needs to see me as early as I can because KG has something to tell me. I told KG I have an 8:30-10am break. I'm waiting for KG.

Yesterday was a crampy day for me. Dr. Bien Lumbera had to extend our class (Pagbubuo at Pagsusulat ng Kasaysayang Pampanitikan) because he was absent two Mondays ago. Oddly enough, his reason was because of pain attacks due to uric acid. Someone in the class, Ina, offered both us pistachio nuts, and of course, I wanted to have some, but Dr. Lumbera said "AYOKO!" The old man that he is, an amiable lolo, I found myself saying NO to the nuts I so love to eat.

After class, around 6pm or so, Punk and I went looking for our UGAT orgmates. We found them at the Galleria 1 of the Faculty Center, doing an extension of the Orientation for Applicants. We have more or less 30 applicants, mostly girls whose smiles range from the shy to wistfully wry. I was introduced as a professor from the College of LAW, thanks to MJ! But a sweet girl asked: "Talaga?" And then followed by: "Ambata!" (Hahahaha!)

I went outside the building to smoke a stick of Winston Lights that I have been longing for the whole day. While I was watching how the blue smoke cuts the air, Vlad arrived sporting a new haircut -- or should I say shave. He looked like how he looked three years ago when we first became classmates. "Pare, bagong tasa a!" I commented. "Oo nga, pare!" he said. "Nagkita kayo ni Jay?" Vlad asked. "Dehins. Bakit?" I replied. "Naghahanap ng kasamang manood ng Spiderman 2. Nood tayo?" Vlad said. "Pagod ako e."

Then the applicants went for us, to have our signatures for their signature sheets. "Nandito ang mga artista!" Milky said. I wrote things for the applicants, individually, trying to juxtapose a concept to their names or namesakes.

I have to take my break for now. It's almost 9:30am and I have to drink my medicine. And have my first stick of cigar before my 10am class. Tomorrow, or later on, hopefully, I will be able to write about the days before July 6, 2004 (today), especially the June 29, Tuesday.

2004-06-24T18:04:00.000+08:00

Uric Acid Nephropathy

Kagagaling ko lang sa Robinsons Place Ermita. At ngayon, natagpuan ko ang aking sarili dito sa internet shop sa kanto ng Maceda at Dapitan. Dito kami madalas mag-internet ni Lisa.

Malamig sa loob ng Robinsons, at masaya akong pumasok doon mula sa Healthpoint Clinic sa tapat ng Padre Faura Exit ng Robinsons. Masaya dahil wala akong kanser sa kidney, kundi uric acid nephropathy lamang. Medyo matagal-tagal rin akong naghintay para tawagin ang aking pangalan. Sumisirko ang tumbong ko sa upuan sa loob ng klinika. Nagsimula akong kabahan nung umalis ako ng UP. Buti at sinabayan ako ni MJ hanggang Blumentritt. Nagdyip kami mula UP hanggang EDSA, tapos nag-FX kami na may karatulang "NBI, PGH, Taft."

Pagsakay namin ng FX ay dumadaldal na ang drayber. Ni hindi nito narinig na nagpapara ang mamang katabi ko sa likuran. Iyon pala, sabi ng babaeng nakatabi ni MJ, muntik nang maholdap ang FX bago kami sumakay. Tamang-tamang bumaba ang mga pinagsususpetsahang holdaper sa may Agham Road bago kami nakasakay sa EDSA. Buti't sa EDSA kami bumaba.

Pagbaba ni MJ sa Blumentritt, lalong tumatalon ang mga palaka sa loob ng dibdib ko. Nakikipagkuwentuhan sa akin ang siguro'y mga kuwarenta-taong babae. Narinig niya kasi nung pababa si MJ na "o, wag kang kabahan, kaya mo yan!" Kaya medyo nakapagbahagi rin ako sa babae na papunta ako sa doktor ko upang malaman ang resulta ng mga eksamen sa aking kidney. "May kidney stone po kasi ako." Sabi niya, "yung kapatid kong babae, inoperahan sa breast nito lang. Tapos yung katabi niyang pasyente may kidney stone rin. Nung inoperahan, ipinakita kung ano ang hitsura." Sinlaki ng piso nang iminuwestra niya sa akin, "parang rambutan... ang kulay... pula."

Lalo akong kinabahan, at tila napansin yun ng babae. Sabi niya, "Lakasan mo ang loob mo. Malay mo madaan sa tunaw." Napangiti ako nang matipid pero taimtim.

Medyo nakakatulog ako sa biyahe, at nang malapit na sa may Padre Faura sa may PGH ay tinawag ng babae ang atensyon ko: "Malapit ka nang bumaba, o." "Faura na po ba?" tanong ko. "Oo. Yung kanto ng PGH." Nagpasalamat ako sa kaniya nung bumababa na ako. Sabi pa niya sa akin, "Goodluck at ingat ka." "Kayo rin po," sagot ko, "salamat po." Pagkasara ko ng pinto ay tsaka ko lang naalala na di ko man lang natanong ang pangalan niya. Kung sinuman siya, napagaan niya nang kaunti ang loob ko.

Bumili ako ng yosi sa kanto, para makapagyosi ako habang naglalakad papuntang Healthpoint. Walang Winston Lights, kahit pula wala. Philip at Hope lang. Hope na lang ang binili ko. Mahaba-habang lakaran rin iyon, sa loob-loob ko.

Hinihintay kong tawagin ang pangalan ko ng sekretarya. Kinamusta ako ni Blair sa text, at mas lalong lumakas ang loob ko. Nang tawagin na ako ng sekretarya, inabutan kong nakangiti si Doc Don. Sa loob-loob ko, inihahanda ba ako nito sa isang malungkot na balita? Nang magsalita na siya, sabi niya, "Nabasa ko na yung plates ng IVP mo... Normal ang operation ng kidneys mo, ibig sabihin with normal, ay gumagana ang flow. Pero malamang ang nagko-cause ng stones mo ay uric acid, kasi mataas ang uric acid mo sa blood at urine. Yung right kidney mo naman, sinisira ng uric acid. Di ko alam kung mare-revert pa ang condition ng parenchymal disease (ng right kidney)..."

Tinanong ko si Doc Don, "Nakakamatay po ba yung sa right kidney ko?"

"Hindi naman. Kapag hindi mo ininom yung gamot, lalala yung condition," sabi niya habang nakangiti nang magiliw. Napangiti na rin ako.

Isinulat niya sa papel ang mga gamot na dapat kong bilhin at inumin: NaHCO3 (650mg tablet, 2 tablets 3 times a day) para sa pagtunaw ng stone, at Llanol (300mg, 1 tablet once daily) para sa pagpapababa ng uric acid. Kapag nag-normalize lang o di kaya'y hindi bumaba ang uric acid ko sa loob ng isang buwan, magiging maintenance na gamot ko na ang Llanol. Sana bumaba na lang po, please.

Pagkatapos naman ng isang linggong pag-inom ng NaHCO3, kailangan kong magpalaboratory exam ng urine, para malaman ang pH level ng urine ko. Sabi ni Doc Don, dahil acidic ang ihi ko, kailangan ma-alkalinize sa pamamagitan ng NaHCO3 ang aking ihi.

Humingi rin uli ako ng listahan ng bawal kong kainin. Sabi niya, "Tandaan mo, tatlo lang yun: peanuts, fats, at legumes." Kaya tinanong ko, "puwede po akong kumain ng mayonnaise at cheese, uminom ng softdrinks." Puwede raw basta wag lang sobra. Kung iinom ako ng softdrinks, dapat daw wag iyon ang gagawin kong tubig. Dapat 2 hanggang 3 litro ng tubig ang iniimon ko araw-araw dahil kailangan kong umihi ng 2 litro ng tubig araw-araw para malinis ang kidney.

Nagpasalamat ako kay Doc Don. Di niya ako pinagbayad ng consultation fee, kasi pinsan raw ako ni Ate Cecile. Nahiya ako, pinipilit kong magbayad pero ayaw tanggapin. Sabi ko na lang, "Sige, bibigyan ko na lang po kayo ng mga libro pagbalik ko. Sana mabasa po ninyo." At nagpasalamat ako nang ubod nang salamat.

Paglabas na paglabas ko ng Healthpoint, tinext ko agad si Blair. Ibinalita ko sa kaniya ang mga sinabi ng doktor. Habang ipinapadala ko ang mensahe ay nakangiti ako dahil masayang-masaya ang pakiramdam ko na hindi grabe ang kondisyon ng mga kidney ko. Magaan ang pakiramdam ko at sabi ko sa sarili, kailangan ilibre ko ang sarili ko.

Bumili ako ng gamot tapos pumunta sa Booksale sa Robinsons Place. Nabili ko ang mga sumusunod:
1. "Don't Tell Mama!: The Penguin Book of Italian American Writing" inedit ni Regina Barreca (P55)
2. "Goodbye, Sweetwater: New & Selected Stories" ni Henry Dumas (P55)
3. "Mid-American Review: Fall 1998" koleksyon ng mga kuwento, tula, sanaysay atbp. (P25)

Naglakad ako papunta sa sakayan ng dyip. Nakasakay ako sa Dapitan dyip, bumaba ako sa Maceda at tinalunton ang internet shop na ito.

Sumisilip ako ngayon sa pinto: asul na madilim na pala ang langit. Mag-a-alas siyete na pala. Kailangan ko nang umuwi para tapusin ang dalawang natitirang syllabi para sa mga klase ko. Magbabasa pa ako ng mga sanaysay na gagamitin ng mga klase ko bukas.

Naiihi na rin ako. Hindi ko dapat pigilan. Wala na itong atrasan. Tuloy-tuloy na gamutan!

2004-06-24T09:00:00.000+08:00

Pag-aabang sa Alas-Tres ng Hapon

Alas nuwebe pa lamang ng umaga. Eksaktong alas otso y medya ko pinalabas ang mga estudyante. Ang araw na ito ang isa sa pinaka-relaxed kong pagsisimula ng klase. 6:55am pa lang ay nasa Room 408 na ako sa bagong gusali ng College of Arts and Letters. May apat na estudyante na pagdating ko sa klasrum. Napangiti ako. Aba! Naunahan pa rin ako kahit ang aga-aga ko nang dumating!

Kagabi naman ang pinakamahaba kong tulog at pahinga. Alas nuwebe pa lamang ng gabi ay tulog na ako -- at nagising ako ng alas singko ng umaga. Sanay na ang orasan ng katawan ko sa oras ng paggising ko nang regular na alas singko. Kadalasan nga'y nauunahan ko pa ang alarm clock na magising, hehehe.

Di na ako naglakwartsa kagabi. Nagyayaya sila Milky at Shiela na manood ng French Film sa UP Film Center pero sabi ko kailangan kong magpahinga. Sabi ko, tutal nanood na kami nung Martes, at hindi ko gaanong nagustuhan ang pagiging mabagal ng istorya pero gustong-gusto ko ang masayang pagtatapos ng pelikula. Sa loob-loob ko rin, kailangan kong bumawi ng tulog laluna't nakatakda akong pumunta kinabukasan (na mamaya na) sa urologist para malaman na kung anuman ang hatol. Energized ako. Maluwalhati ang tulog ko. Maganda ang gising ko, optimistiko ako, at hinihiling ko na sana'y maharap ko anuman ang sasabihin ni Doc Don.

Alas nuwebe kinse ng umaga pa lamang. Limang oras at kinse minutos pa ang hihintayin ko para makabiyahe na ako papunta sa Health Point sa may Maynila, sa gilid ng Robinson's Place Ermita. Iisa-isahin ko nang harapin ang aking mga demonyo.

2004-06-22T08:48:00.000+08:00

Hilom

Nagpapahilom ako, kami ngayon. Nagpapalakas. Maghihintay ako. Naghihintay. At patuloy na naniniwala. At nakakaya nang ngumiti nang kaunti. :) Nagpapalakas ako, kami ngayon.

Magpapagaling ako. Pupunta na ako sa doktor sa Huwebes. Kailangang harapin ko na ang takot.

Hindi ako bibitaw. Nagpapahilom ako, kami ngayon. Nagpapalakas. Naghahanda. Para sa bukas.

2004-06-11T16:14:00.000+08:00

Hunyo 11

Ang araw na ito ay eksaktong isang buwan matapos ang kaarawan ko.

2004-06-07T21:27:00.000+08:00

Panopticon

Watched Harry Potter with Jayvee at SM Megamall. The long line was as impatient as my toes almost soaked wet. Gary Oldman's portrayal of Serious Black is his best since The Scarlet Letter.

Going back to UP Diliman, drizzle reminded me of a text message I sent to someone very special to me. I opened my Nokia unit's Outbox to find if I have already deleted the said message. I haven't. Tonight, I will flush it down the trashbin after I've immortalized it in my diary.

Now, I'm waiting for Lisa/Betty to finish the essay she's writing entitled "Reject Apolitical Intellectualism, Uphold Progressive Practice!" She just asked me, "Is there a word such as 'Apolitical.'" I smile wryly, recalling the educational discussion I gave last Saturday to the Kultura and Graphics sections about Revolutionary Aesthetics. In my mind, I want to tell Lisa what she already knows: that being "apolitical" is a political stand. We are PRISONERS of political denouement.

Foucault's discussion of the panopticon is a good read upto now; of course not everything, but a clear bifurcation of his "treatises." But I save laurels for Donato Continente, a political prisoner, "Kahit makalabas ako ng kulungan, may mas malaking kulungan ang lipunan."

Lisa, uwi na tayo. Sige na! Tara na!

"Mykel, tinatanong ni Mama kung gusto mong kumain sa bahay."

Anong ulam sa inyo?

"Di ko nga alam e, pero malamang isda, basta yung di gaanong mataba, I mean, yung walang gaanong taba."

Thank you Mr. Vincent Jan Cruz Rubio for lending me your laptop.

2004-06-07T15:44:00.000+08:00

Iba, Zambales

I went out last night, the rain creating a pubic image of my hair. The umbrella was arrested by the wind, and my makeshift sweater was a stupid rag envelope.

Dapitan was haven, again, for me. A memory: I etched an entry before entitled Visiting Dapitan and oddly, I was back in that Dapitan Internet shop for the same reasons:

1. My own room was a stranger to me
2. My PC was/is a catankerous old (wo)man
3. Something I can't divulge right now

So there I was, a lonely biped in a cold, tranquil box of computers; with cold, noisy people blabbering about boobs, hips, arses, anti-communist mantras of role-playing games. It was a subtle atonement for indifference: a stranger in a not-so-strange piece of land.

Chanced upon Yelle and Kat Con in YM cyberworld. Some stuff about how lonely we were/are, about melancholia rearing its angry face at all of us, and how Resolve is a good excuse not to commune with death.

Thanks to upbeat popular songs from the early 1990s, I undid a sordid affair with melancholy. And this prompted me to write a lengthy entry last night, mostly about a temporary singing experience with the beautiful Rory, business manager of the Collegian. She sat beside me during the whole trip from Zambales to Manila. First time to sit beside her. First time to actually have a long conversation with her. At first, I was as shy as a newly-eviscerated kitten, squinting at the sight of how beautiful and perfect she is. Mykel, the epitome of perennial Insecurity. It was a tensioned moment that I now laugh at.

I stared at the window during the first few hours of the trip: I was looking for a rainbow on the small faces of raindrops on the window. I took a right look, and Rory was finishing a book, "The Street Lawyer" by John Grisham. "Is it any good?" I finally asked her. "Not really. The corniest of Grisham!" she said it so intently that her eyes formed an ethereal look, cute and captivating.

I told her I needed to pee; and the bus driver heard me and stopped at an old Caltex. When I got back, we were silent again. I thought: she has to finish her book. And when she did, she started to hum old songs, popular songs from Damage, 911, Backstreet Boys, 98 Degrees and the like. I started singing with her, but the rain fell harder and stronger.

Double Happiness was the next stop-over. What made me happiest during that time was that the radio was playing what Frank Lloyd calls "Classic Songs." Indeed, they were my high school fave bands: Hungry Young Poets, Color It Red and the like.

Color It Red's "Paglisan" was a tenacious drumming in my ear, in our ears. I remembered Carlo Gaerlan, during fourth year high, looking past our classmates to a distant view of someone I haven't seen yet: the girl he was courting was leaving him. And I so deeply incited a gargantuan lonely feeling kept in a papemelroti letter he gave me during fourth year high retreat: with the lyrics of the song "No Need to Argue" by the Cranberries.

I was drifting that far when Raffy Lerma let out a story: "Pag naririnig ko yang kantang yan, naaalala ko yung driver namin nung umalis. Parang tatay ko na yun."

Mula sa Iba, Zambales, patungong Iba, Quezon City, mayroong di maipaliwanag na pakiramdam ang pagiging Iba.

2004-06-04T12:37:00.000+08:00

Filipino Department

Gamit ko ang kompyuter ni Kuya Rolly, at hindi niya ito alam. Ilang minuto na lamang ay babalik na sa tensyonadong normal na operasyon ang departamento. Enrolment ngayon, at mga nakadamit na malalaking langgam ang mga estudyante: ang iba'y may sukbit na payong, may nakapayungyong na mga pangginaw, at ang iba'y nanlilimahid dahil sa naghalong tubig-ulan at tubig-alat.

Masakit ang katawan ko ngayon. Bunga ito nang pagtatangka ko noong isang araw na ikabit ang bulok na aircon. Mas matanda pa kay Mahoma ang aircon, at sabi ng co-faculty kong si Sir Boy Iniego, kapag naikabit at pinaandar na raw iyon ay para raw kaming nasa loob ng barko. Ganun ang tunog ng sinisinok na makina.

Papunta ako sa Zambales mamayang alas-sais ng gabi. Naimbitahan akong magbigay ng lektyur sa semestral planning ng Kule hinggil sa Revolutionary Aesthetics. Noon, ang itinuturo ko hinggil dito ay Classical Marxism at Maoism lamang. Pero ngayon, balak kong taluntunin ang tereyn ng Neo-Marxism at iba pang bunga ng dialektikal na pagpapalwig ng Marxismo sa kontemporaryong pangkulturang kritisismo.

Hindi ako makapaniwala na isang buong linggo kaming hindi magkikita ni B.

2004-05-31T23:36:00.000+08:00

Long Day

Once again, I find myself taking long walks under the skyroof bedecked with acacia leaves.

2004-05-29T00:34:00.000+08:00

A Jeepney Ride

It's been a while since I posted anything here. I've read surveys, eyed articles noteworthy, skipped perturbations and angas posts, and tried to delete old posts of mine (and needless to say failed to do so). Now, something unwavering instructed me to write something of some sort.

The world is sorting its people. The joint session of the upper and lower houses eviscerated more than enough tension in a country where interregnum is as perennial as pollution. Radio, television, and print have never feigned their tasks of baiting the masses with (mis)information. So we're here, catching ennui and coughing out anxieties in a hot, hot country.

Politics will never leave us. We are political entities, whether we like it or not. We've seen how the Arroyo administration and its cohorts maneuver to stay in power. With civil society groups like Akbayan badmouthing progressive partylist groups. With the military forwarding its Newtonian yet Machiavellian duties.

Next month, a ride from Welcome, Rotonda to Santo Domingo Church will be a P5.50 outpocket. And another round of oil price increases is in the offing. We can't blame the jeepney owners, the drivers. We can blame, of course, oligopoly.

Three sticks of Winston Lights: tantamount to a ride from Philcoa to Welcome, Rotonda. One stick: a walk towards a cranky house in Iba Street. It's never easy going home: alcoholic trippers in every corner, shanties like praying mantises, a moonless sky-ceiling, dog-shit, buzzing gate, an angry father, a tired mother, an alcoholic brother, a room of my own -- where dreams are concocted. It's never easy when you say, "The world is a crazy planet." It's all imagined. Never a figment less desired. Never a pragmatic scoop. Always, always a perfect day/night to tread the mountains.

2004-05-27T01:16:00.000+08:00

PGH

Literal na walang kainan ang ginawa ko noong Mayo 24, Martes. Paghahanda ito para sa IVP ko kahapon, Mayo 25, Miyerkules. Kung bakit makulit ako sa detalye ng petsa sa entry na ito ay saka ko na lamang sasabihin. Ang mahalaga ngayon ay ito: tapos na ang IVP at nagsimula na uli akong kumain.

Isang buong araw na tubig ang ipinanglaman ko sa tiyan ko. Kahit hindi ako nauuhaw, at kahit wala akong kailangang itulak papasok ng lalamunan, ay mekanikal kong inaabot ang basyo ng 1.5L na Coke na ginawa na naming lalagyan ng tubig. Kung sabagay, may kailangan akong itulak at lununin papasok ng lalamunan ko: ang kasabikang kumain, laluna ng bawal.

Kaya kahapon, alas singko ng umaga pa lamang ay gising na ako. Totoo ito: naunahan ko pa ang pagtilaok ng mga tandang ng kapitbahay naming si Mang Arturo. Hindi ako ginising ni Mashi Maro, ang alarm clock na galing Taiwan na iniwan ng kuya ko rito. Inudyok akong tumayo at magkamalay nang muli sa "totoong mundo" ng kumakalam kong sikmura. Iyon ang pamana ng anim na kutsarang Duphalac -- isang uri ng laxative.

Alas singko ng umaga pa lamang ay nasa trono na ako. Bibirit sana ako ng mga kanta ni Vienna Teng pero di ko pa kabisado ang mga titik. Wala rin sa hinagap ko noon ang Hedwig and the Angry Inch, kahit ang Dashboard Confessional, at hindi ko rin makanta ng buo ang Canonball ni Damien Rice dahil di ko pa nadadownload ng buo sa aking IMesh. Kung kaya pinakinggan ko na lang ang pagkikiskisan ng mga lamang loob ko: ang kiskis ng panloob na balat sa isa pang hibla, tabla, mukha, binti ng panloob na balat: parang watusi, lusis. Parang kakarag-karag na trak. Parang sirena ng ambulansiya at pamatay-sunog na minsang gumising sa akin nang alas-tres ng madaling araw. Parang naghihingalong prigider.

Lahat iyon pinalalabas-masok ko sa tenga ko, dahil umaasa akong mapapasok nito ang utak ko: para bitbitin, puksain nila ang kaba sa dibdib ko, ang takot, at lahat ng alalahaning nagpapasirko sa tumbong ko.

Gayung-gayun rin ang lagay ko habang nakahiga sa malamig na metalikong mesa sa isa sa mga x-ray room sa PGH kanina. Gayung-gayun ang ginawa ko: nagpatugtog ng musika sa utak, pinalaya ang kaba, pinasakay sa kalesang dumaraan sa ibabaw ng dagat.

Lahat ng musikang nakasanayan ko, nagsama-sama sa isang mahabang tarak ng karayom sa ugat.

2004-05-22T19:08:00.000+08:00

Kabayo sa Bubong

Parang may kung ilang maliliit na kabayong naglulundagan at nagtatakbuhan sa bubungan namin ngayon.

Kung nagkataong tulog ako't biglang naalimpungatan, tiyak akong magugulantang, na parang nagising mula sa isang bangungot patungo sa isa pang bangungot. Halos di ko mapalis ang pagkabusangot ng mukha ko ngayon. Peste ang ulan, kahit kailan ay di ko ito nagustuhan: bahain ang lugar namin, ayoko ng basa, pero gusto ko ang lamig.

Madalas akong magbitaw ng prase: umulan na lang kung saan kailangan ng tubig: sa mga sakahan ng mga magsasaka, sa Mindanao, at sa iba pang halos El Nino araw-araw, gabi-gabi.

Hindi pa ako naliligo kaya tatapusin ko na muna ito dito.

2004-05-20T08:58:00.000+08:00

Dangwa

Kararating ko lang dito sa bahay namin sa Quezon City. Nakatapat ngayon sa likod ko ang electric fan at alam kong maya-maya lang ay mararamdaman ko ang pamumuo ng lamig sa balikat ko. Sigurado akong maglalagatukan na naman ang mga buto ko.

Matagal na akong di nakakapagsulat sa talaarawan ko, yung bukod dito sa blog ko. Pero kagabi, sa Room 703, habang katabi ko ang isang taong himbing na himbing sa pagtulog, nakapagsulat ako. Minasdan ko kung gaano kaamo ang mukha niya at kung paanong kahit nakapinid na ang talukap ng mga mata niya ay nalulunod pa rin ako.

Habang pasakay ng PVP bus mula sa Buendia, nadaanan ng mata ko ang Dangwa, at sangkaterba ang mga bulaklak na nakahilera, nakasalansan, nakabuyangyang. Inukilkil ng musika ng Viva Hot Babes ang tenga ko, at parang gusto kong bumaba para bumili ng sambungkos ng puting rosas o kaya'y mga tulip. Pero naalala, P50 na lang ang pera ko sa bulsa.

Sinapo-sapo ko ang bulsa ko: kahit nakapikit ako ay kabisado ko ang laman nito: panyo ng Nanay ko, cellphone kong mukhang Transformers na (dahil peke ang casing), lighter na napulot ko sa Baguio, at kaunting barya at buong singkwenta pesos. Hindi ako bumaba sa Dangwa. Naisip ko na lang na maaaring malanta lamang ang bulaklak, gayong ang mismong ideya ng pagbibigay nito ay hindi. Parang isang tulang naimortalisa sa papel at dibdib.

Maya-maya lang ay maliligo na ako. Pupunta ako sa UP para magsagawa ng creatinin exam. Sana ay maging normal na ito nang makausad na ako sa susunod na bahagi ng medical chekup ko para sa aking nababatong mga bato.

Sa isip ko, maglalakad ako sa UP kahit mainit. Kailangan ko ang ehersisyo: pisikat, mental, emosyunal -- at liliripin ko ang mga dahon ng mga higanteng akasya sa Academic Oval: liliripin na parang mga pakpak ng ibong kumakampay ng pag-ibig. At ang langit, isang malaking mukhang ginuguhitan ng araw ng ngiti.

2004-05-17T00:51:00.000+08:00

Sunday Group

It started out as Saturday Group, first semester of last year: Yonina, Reagan, Anna, Ken and I. But it was my first and last saturday trip with them, I mean, officially. UPLB demanded a lot of my time. Saturday became Library Day for me: crammed papers for Dr. Lilia Quindoza-Santiago's "Contemporary Filipino Literature" class, crammed exams for my four classes in UPLB, and squeezed-in sanity breaks.

This time I wasn't around when Yonina, Vlad, Daryl, and Reagan conceptualized the Sunday Group. I was with Blair last Sunday. So a week after, I found myself in medias res, drinking prohibited Beenhoppers coffee-ice cream, smoking more than eight sticks of Winston Lights, morphing in unison with the reddening of the skies in Boardwalk, Roxas Blvd., and doing a Narcissus by taking pictures with my friends. This is Sunday Group. Too bad Vlad, Anna, Ken, Del and Caloi weren't around.

As I watched god slash his wrists to redden the once blue skies, I ran my fingers on my wrists, feeling my veins and waiting for a strong pulse. The pulse came with the strength of memory: the now-familiar hand I held the night before, the swirl of tongue, the hot breath on my nape, the chinky eyes that drown my very name, and the voice that carries the weight of love.

It's never an easy thing to do: remembering. But it does remind me of life, and how each cloud is puffed out by the large mouth of god, the communion of color and air, the erudition of sunset as another name for love.

2004-05-15T12:07:00.000+08:00

Room 703

Your absence walks in this room:
The fan whirs listlessly
feeling your non-presence.
Vienna Teng cascades lines
dissimilar to longing,
reaches for my ears
and licks them:
rough tongue agains lobes
and drums of memory --
love audibly tangible
in this room
where your absence
deafens silence.

2004-05-13T08:11:00.000+08:00

Dear Blair

I want to tell you more besides how endearing you are. For example, how I have recently learned to breathe your own air, and how your absence -- be it a matter of minutes -- unslits me of gills. Mornings are better; I wake up smelling of you, that poignant fragrance of yours that never fails to pull my smile's strings.

We really don't know what the future holds for us. You're right. Tama yun, Blair. Right now, I'm longing to see you, and know you more.

I love you.

2004-05-09T03:15:00.000+08:00

Witching Hour

It's 3am. I must be crazy. Rob Thomas sings it so well that sound coagulates well with time.

It's 3am. I'm with Vlad and Reagan, and of course, the host, her divine Koreanesque: Yonina. Her fine abode, her attic-room, like a mystical space for recreation and writing. The attic's NOT a mess. The low kisame gives me the feel of security, that it may appear that I'm inside a minute matchbox is not the probed issue, but that security, a space where one becomes unmitigated by hollowness. So I write. As Blair would have it: "The itching to write."

Lotsa things happened today/tonight. I got my fill of being punitive and despicable, while maintaining a childish wry smile. I have never been this sad and happy at the same time, much like a whirring fan, a joyous airy constipation of sorts, heatwave propelled by triplet-blades.

I met Marielle and Kris at Oz Cafe. It was a good, fulfilling, funny, hefty talk. I laughed a lot, especially with Kris around, who was (still is) a bukal of humor. Vlad came after a while. Lugi ang Oz sa amin!

Cynthia and De La Salle University classmates came with Red Wine. Sorry Palaris Confraternity for using your tambayan as inuman. Of course Blair was there. He never fails to make me smile.

Let it go. Sarah McLachlan delivers it so well that I stop trying to copy her voice. Does it matter?

2004-05-08T01:06:00.000+08:00

Micardis

My father must be so proud of me
I inherited his hypertension. Renal,
Dr. Lachica remarked: tension
capsized in a hyperreality of blood,
fluid, fluidity, and salt water.
The past two weeks saw my left kidney
stoned: uric acid the best of trigger-happiness.
The right one chose to be silent
at first, but it punctuated the weeks
with the possibility of a parenchymal
disease. Ultrasound was never just meant
for fetuses. I saw my kidneys, two lovely
mangoes in black-and-white photo tone:
each one cradled by sound
and waves. Waterworld, beneath
my skin, where everything is in an array
of disarray, ready to swallow a bitter
pill, a salient point of salinity,
soundless sanity.

2004-05-06T21:50:00.000+08:00

Mga Bawal Kainin at Inumin

1. Mani
2. Mayonesa
3. Bagoong
4. Oishi Prawn Crackers at iba pang kamag-anak nito na bininyagan ng MSG
5. Anumang pulburadong (powderized) inumin tulad ng Iced Tea, Eight O'Clock Mango-Orange Juice
6. Kamatis
7. Ispageti
8. Palabok
9. Mamantika at maraming tabang putahe (baka man, baboy o manok)
10. Sa madaling salita, mga pagkain sa Katag.

P.S.
1. Sabi ng urologist kong si Doc Don ay hindi naman sanhi ng renal stone ko ang labis na pag-inom ng beer, kasi maganda nga raw ang beer sa katawan bilang mabisang pampaihi at pampalabas ng labis na dumi sa internal na sistema ng katawan.
2. Kapag nalampasan ko ito at di pa butas ang bulsa ko pagsapit ng Mayo 11, magpapainom ako!

2004-05-04T23:33:00.000+08:00

Noong Mayo Uno aka Leaving Los Banos

Dahil sobrang nalungkot ako noong Abril 30, 2004, walang-atubili ay sumama ako sa UP Los Banos. Sumakay ako sa Altis ni True Crime, girlfriend ni Chu. Si Chu ang magmamaneho. Mga pasahero kami nina Milky, Caloi, Punk, at Marla. Nagkasya kami sa sasakyan kahit na ga-sako ang katawan nina Marla at Milky.

Akala ko kasi nakalusot na ako sa aspetong medikal -- dahil nagrehistro ng negatibo ang ihi ko sa drug test. Walang nakuhang marijuana sa ihi ko kaya masaya ako. Ang kaso nga lang ay may maliliit na bato pala sa atay ko. Hindi pa alam kung ano ang pinagmulan nito, kung uric acid ba o iba pa. Pero sa ngayon, kailangan kong lunurin ang mga bato. Literal na paglunod: tatlo hanggang limang litro ng tubig araw-araw.

Kaya nahihirapan akong ngumiti. Halata naman e. Kahit mga mata ko di na kayang ngumiti.

Kaya ayun, noong nakaraang Biyernes ay parang inaapuhap ko si Mariang Makiling, na para bang gusto kong magpakupkop sa kaniya -- na nagawa ko naman. Pero mas malaki ang pasasalamat ko sa mga kaibigan. Lalo na kay Kris, na laging may positibong nasasabi kahit sa mga napakanegatibong sitwasyon. Eksperto kasi siya sa mga droga (hindi dahil adik siya, kundi dahil may ginawa raw siyang pag-aaral dati hinggil sa droga -- kayo na ang humusga! ehehehe). Siya nga ang nagturo sa akin na uminom lang ng maraming tubig, apol juice, pineapol juice, at iba pang Juice Ko Day para makadenggoy sa drug test, ehehehe. Siyempre, salamat rin kay Naya na talagang napakagaan ang loob ko: na parang pilak na liwanag sa gilid ng mga ulap pagkatapos ng ulan. Salamat sa inyo.

Natulog kami sa Los Banos. Sa Altis. Gumarahe sa lilim ng mga puno sa tapat ng gusali ng LGA (Local Goverment Agency). Doon nagpalipas ng gabi, ng madaling araw, at nagplanong hulihin ang pagsikat ng araw kinabukasan ng Mayo Uno. Pero ganun ata talaga kailap ang pagsikat ng araw kapag gusto itong hulihin. Nagising ako na maliwanag na ang langit.

Dumating si True Crime. Iyon naman talaga ang primaryang dahilan ng pagsugod namin sa UPLB. Nagpasama si Chu para sunduin ang kanyang kasintahan. Kaya bonus na lang ang pagliliwaliw, ang pagpapalipad ng mga pinabibigat na dalahin, ang pamumundok ng isip.

Mayo Uno. Umakyat kami sa Makiling Botanic Gardens. May nakita akong pusa, grey-brown ang kulay ng balahibo. May kakaibang tutubi, kapag ikinakampay nila ang mga pakpak ay makintab na blue-green. Pero kapag ipinapahinga nila ang mga pakpak nila ay itim lamang ito. Itim ang ilalim ng mga pakpak. At di pa ako nakuntento sa mga pakpak ng tutubi. Naglagalag kami sa mga huling minuto namin sa Makiling. Mag-a-alas onse ay inakyat namin ang inakala naming maikling ruta lamang tungo sa mga "Raptor." Akala namin nung una ay mga aligeytor at krokodayl ang raptors, iyon pala mga Agila, Haribon, Eagle, Eaglet, Ibon pala! Ayun! Nagtanggal na nga ako ng t-shirt pagkarating sa bungad ng pugad ng mga agila dahil sa sobrang pamumuo at pamamasa ng pawis sa damit ko.

Matapos ang pamamakpak, bumaba na kami, bumili ng tubig, ng keychain, sumakay ng Altis, dumaan sa shortcut sa may Jamboree Site, at mahigit-kumulang isang oras lamang ay nasa Kentucky Fried Chicken (KFC) na kami ilang milya paglagpas ng Magallanes. Nanlibre si True Crime. Sabi ko sa sarili, sige, lalantak na ako ng masarap na piniritong manok, huli na to, wala muna akong pakialam kung maalat, masarap ang gravy, ang coleslaw, ang mashed potato, ang mamantikang balat, ang lalaki sa kalapit na mesa, ang libre, masarap, ang libre.

Bago maghiwalay, naitanong nila kung saan ako bababa. Sabi ko dun na lang sa paglagpas ng Corinthian Gardens. Sasakay ako ng bus papuntang Cubao. Tapos sa Cubao sasakay ako papuntang Welcome, Rotonda kung saan naroroon malapit ang tahanan ko. Maliligo lang ako at pagdakay pupunta na sa Liwasang Bonifacio para sa pagkilos sa paggunita ng Araw ng mga Manggagawa.

Pero natagalan ako bago nakasakay ng bus papuntang Cubao. Pagdating ko ng Cubao ay parang nakahupak na ang mga pisngi ko. Tila nakonsumo agad kahit ang hindi pa nakokonbert ang enerhiya ng pananghalian ko. Kaya nagpalamig ako sa Superbranch ng National Bookstore sa Araneta Center, Cubao. Bumili ako ng dalawang tig-P20 na libro: "Loves of Faustyna" at isa pang nalimutan ko ang titulo ngayon. Sikreto lang: pinalitan ko ang mga presyo nito, ehehehe. Tapos bumili ako ng tig-P14.75 na notbuk. Iyon ang bago kong talaarawan.

Pagkatapos magpalamig sa National, nagpasya akong suyurin ang dalawang Booksale sa Cubao, isa sa Rustan's at isa sa gusaling katabi ng Rustan's. Para makapunta sa Rustan's ay kailangang dumaan ako sa Araneta Coliseum. Andaming tao. Nagsisiksikan, nagtutulakan, nagtatakbuhan, halos lahat may bitbit pang Coke-in-Can. Nakapila sila. Libre pala ang panonood ng Laro ng PBA (nga ba?) -- handog daw ni Pang. GMA sa manggagawa para sa kanilang Araw ng Paggawa. Libre rin pala ang MRT. Kung alam ko lang ay hindi na sana ako nagpatusta sa araw.

Hindi ako nakahabol sa Liwasang Bonifacio. Hindi tuloy ako nakakanta.

2004-04-27T20:58:00.000+08:00

Trangkaso

Change of weather. Ito ang may kasalanan kung bakit magkakatrangkaso ako. Sobrang init dito sa Manila; at para sa isang nilalang na nagpakulob sa lamig ng Baguio nang dalawang linggo, aba'y masuwerte na ako kung trangkaso lang ang abutin ko.

Punyetang init ng araw yan! Kontrolado nito ang lagkit at hulas ng pawis ko! Para akong balon ng pawis na di nauubusan ng masasalok.

****

Natatakot akong magpa-drug test. Yun na yun!

****

Wala na akong pakialam sa pitong letrang salita na may hyphen sa gitna ng ikatlo at ikaapat na letra.

****

Marami akong nabiling ukay sa Baguio. Ipinamigay ko halos lahat. Nung isang gabi, pumasok ang nanay ko sa kuwarto ko at nabahing siya agad. Naligo naman ako at nagpagpag ng kama, sabi ko. "Yung kape kasi di mo yata nabalot ng maigi. Ayusin mo ang pagkakabalot. Nakakahatsing e," sabi ng Nanay ko. Mabango ang Benguet coffee. Ibibigay ko yun kina Amy at Isao.

****

Kinukulit ako nina Rhowell at Aya na ibigay ko na ang pasalubong ko sa kanila. Di ko naman madala kanina kasi pumunta ako sa NBI at BIR, baka mahulihan ako at ma-William Martinez ako! (Pero siyempre wala akong tooooooooottttttttttttteeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrr noooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Tsaka di naman Mahiwagang S to nooooooooooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!

****

I have the need to elaborate on something other than ennui. Right now I'm catching my breath. Reminds me of how my lungs heave at the steepness of Baguio's streets. Reminds me of the time Caloi and I went to a duckpin bowling lounge and waited for more than an hour to take our turn. Reminds me of the leg pains we had after the bowling tryst. Of how hard it was to do the routine of paakyats and pababas to and from the sessions, to and from food fiestas, to and from sanity.

****

Mykel, count the number of times you smiled in your Baguio pics.

2004-04-18T02:55:00.000+08:00

Ispontanyo

Isa na naman ito sa mga ispontanyong plano namin ni Caloy.

2004-04-08T19:41:00.000+08:00

Baluga

Nasa internet shop ako sa Maceda St., perpendicular sa Dapitan. Kasama ko si Lisa Ito, kaibigan ko. Siya nga ang magbabayad ng internet fee ko rito ngayon e.

Galing lang kami sa boarding house nila nina Isao, Net, Tom at iba pa. Apat na araw kaming nagbabad sa bahay na iyon sa may Sikatuna Village. Nanood ng cable tv programs. Nanood ng DVDs ng "Monalisa Smile" at french film na "8 Femmes" na hiniram namin sa magkapatid na Jaja at Chiqui Arumpac.

Ngayon, pagdating namin sa may Blumenttrit St., baha. Kaya dumaan lang kami saglit sa bahay ni Lisa sa may Sampaloc tapos nagpaalam kami sa lola niya na mag-i-internet lang saglit. Maya-maya ay uuwi na ako sa bahay ko sa Iba.

Namimiss ko na ang nanay at mga kapatid ko. Pero si Mark ay nagpunta raw sa Quezon, sa bahay dun ng girlfriend niyang si Karen. Tapos si Jay-ar baka nagdi-defragment pa ng computer namin. Malamang nagsa-soundtrip at watchtrip na naman ang nanay ko sa Winamp ng isa pang kompyuter namin: Meteor Garden at Endless Love.

Ako, gusto ko nang magpagupit ng buhok. Mukha na naman akong Lion King sa tubo sa gilid ng ulo ng buhok ko. Masakit pa ang ngipin ko, tapos may nabubuo pa atang singaw sa dermis ng loob ng bunganga ko. Tapos wala na akong pera. Good thing, though, mahina na akong magyosi. Yihee!

Malabo
Bakit may nagre-resurface na old romantic feelings? Kailangang mamatay na ang mga ito kasabay ng pagkamatay ni Hesus bukas.

2004-04-02T12:29:00.000+08:00

Sad Songs Make Me Cry
I have every right to pun the song "Sad Movies Make Me Cry." And don't you dare fret on discoursing intertextuality. I am my own Author. I am my own Blog.

There's no place for nasty people in my abode. One nasty crass is enough. 'Nuf.

I just realized that I only have P0.75 in my pocket. I'm hungry. How am I gonna get home?

Regurgitating, my dream. Believe. Survive.

2004-03-31T22:11:00.000+08:00

About Fudge
Fudge sits beside me.

Caloy goes to the royal bowl to defecate.

Punk rests his heavy head on a sordid pillow.

Mykel sketches characters.

Okay. Here it goes. When a bus turns right, it actually tells you to be a leftist. At the edge of a crossroad is a singular pole, a metal scraper, with a hexagon-like head and three eyes: one red, one green and one yellow.

I think that the best way to end matters is to watch the sommersaulting of ashes. From the tip a cigarette stick to the rough skin of an ashtray.

Two hours ago I had my tongue twisting fuck yous and grumpy words. Because the secondhand printer refused to follow directions.

I'm happy like a bird's gizzard, grinding the heart of a seed.

2004-03-31T05:07:00.000+08:00

Moving On

Finally, R. broke it. I asked R. to tell me, to text me, to put a halt to my prolonged agony.

As much as I want to convince myself that I have other prospects to tarry myself with, I believe that R. suits me well. But of course R.'s decision is more definitive and operative, to say the least. R. texted me (I coerced R. to do this, the act of texting I mean, instead of the face-to-face ripping of my face--because time is the most incongruent product of, yeah, mercantile capitalism) that we're better of as friends. R.'s text message: "Sadly, ang sinsbi ng puso ko ay kaibigan." Or something to that effect.

I thinks it's best that way. Surprisingly, I'm not sobbing like a Monday morning. I have waited for that moment, a few hours ago, that seemingly protracted answer to a miserable month of wallowing in uncertainty. Romantic flails never fail to put me in a brooding mood, forget the tons of immaculate paper needed to be splattered with intellectual machinations and academic (mis)heavings, forget the immeasurable time looming over books to be edited, forget that I was sick and overfatigued, forget that smoking is bad for my health. One thing though: I'm not exactly profusely wam-wam over bottles of beer.

The fact is, I don't love R. I like R. but I'm not really sure why. Of course R.'s good looks is already a given, though Caloy, Pia, Roy, Vlad and countless other anti-R. friendly friends think otherwise. And of course that personality factor that they keep nudging me about. And R.'s past, R.'s sexual encounters in the most implausible places. Everything from the preppy clothes to the girlish accessories, from the imperfections with the use of the English language to the dumb-ass questions like "Are post-structuralism and Marxism opposing views?" And all the other reasons my friends heave undauntingly to consign me to one decision: R. is not the best one for me. That I have other and better options. The flings. The DLSU writer. The coffee guru. The Ragnarok addict. The Japanese-fanatic suitor. The bipolar texter. I gave them all up for R.

But R.'s decision is still the definitive and operative language, to say the least.

I have learned my lesson well. I should have realized this years ago when Ewas pulled my sanity string to its elasticity limit. When Ambito rejected my friendster request because Ambito's happily settled in Canada (or is it California). When Jaguar broke my heart last December.

Come on now, Mykel. It's time to move on.

They say that when it rains, it pours. I'm a walking contradiction if my preceeding sentence is right. I got in in one of the most, if not the most, prestigious writing fellowships in the country as a double fellow. I bested other teacher-wannabees for a post in the University of the Philippines-Diliman's Departmento ng Filipino at Panitikan ng Pilipinas (DFPP). I should be happy. I am. My love moon and stars just might not be in their proper places right now. Come on, Mykel. Who are you kidding?! Stars? Cosmos? Since when did you start patterning your life to these burgeoning excuses!

And now I remember perfectly, like a cumbersome treading of the Academic Oval in UP Diliman. The tryst is with myself. Always been that. If not, maybe an imperfect excuse to string a smile, like a puppet immobile.
Special thanks to Mitzie. I have decided not to quote her verbatim about the "lack of balls" thing. She's right. I have my own two hairy pinkish balls to worry about.

Good morning everyone. I don't need to tell you that this is all about moving on.

2004-03-26T13:38:00.000+08:00

I'm Getting Married

Says my friend Isao. She proudly posts it on the Friendster bulletin board. She tells me a few minutes later that those San Beda kids text her, wildly, awed and probably dishevelled because of the news.

My parents want me to get married as soon as possible. Okay. I will. But I have to go to Netherlands first. Or Canada.

And I have to finish my papers first. I have a seminar tomorrow. I have to deconstruct the "simulacra" in the war in Mindanao.

Okay. Enough of the Kafkaist stream-of-consciousness mode. This is a desperate act, this writing, this online journal.

I know for a fact that when the beating starts I should not cringe.

Romance should be the least of my concerns right now. Especially if it suddenly becomes unrequitted. Or it snares of silence. Or floats on false hope. Or paranoia. Or lack of respect for the self.

Everything becomes intertextual -- self-reflexive, as if everything is a referent of one thing, or a springboard of another. Romance should not be formulaic; nor should it be arbitrary.

Where do I lie right now: for(e)grounding or for(e)going?

2004-03-25T06:28:00.000+08:00

Thanks to Jill

Good morning dew! My eyes are still refracting light like distant obscured stars. Thanks to Jill I'm up and ready to go home.

I open my Nokia unit and two new messages grit like my Father's teeth during his drunken lucid hours. A message from Jayvee and a message from R. The first one congratulates me for clinching a teaching post in UP Diliman's Filipino Department. The second informs me that I sent a wrong message.

Sinu-sino nga ba ang mga katext ko sa lucid pre-sleep moments ko? Iyon ang mahirap e. What I know right now is that I need to go home because my tummy is buzzing like a bulldozer.

2004-03-19T05:27:00.000+08:00

It's All Been Done

I guess it's time for me to say adieu, for now.

These days, countless papers take so much of my space. Time is exhausted like my lungs sighing their last; a bereaver; a lone goldfish meditating oblivion.

Call me tetchy. Ignoramus. Yawa.

Tittle, tattle, a scribble on paper, a lifetime leech, a docile imbicile. That's what I am.

Dear Lisa

I sent Blair a private message. Told him verbatim what you instructed me to tell him. Expect a reply. Soon. :)

Funny, but I think it didn't quite seep into your jolted veins. That indeed, I saw Blair at Bien Lumbera's book launch last Saturday. That he was wearing a blue shirt, jeans, and a pair of cute rubbershoes (I guess). And yes, you were right, he did not ignore me (I guess). His vision failed him that time (I guess. That's what you tell me.). We really should have coffee with him one of these days, when you're through with your completion grades and aesthetically challenging plates. For now, I will think of a movie that we, three will probably enjoy watching. A hefty meal for the mind. And heart. And that gustatory fill, needless to say.

Fondly (quipping Blair),
Mykel

Dear Caloi

I'm really sorry for that outburst. Oz Cafe holds a lot of my memories. Vaguely, I remember that Oz Cafe was my post-Ateneo Workshop haven -- where Von and I had our first lunch alone, together. Where KatCon and I recommuned after long trysts with personal monsters.

I was determined to be happy yesterday. I was. I managed to finish three final papers for Dr. Lucero's class. I heard Nora Aunor reminding me about himalas.

But that question just hit my crabby spot. And how you delivered it, like all of a sudden a very intruding query, much like seething, blaspheming. Not totally your fault. The collective unconscious. That collective unconscious. Remember Carl Jung?

My apologies. All apologies. Heart-felt. Warm. Like our fondness for friendship. Like sunsets obliterating skyscrapers.

Like our fondness for men -- genuine, sans pretense, aloof, restrained, but deep and unjaded all the same.

Here's to staring deeper into the mirror! How unruly! How rudely Narcissistic!

Charot!,
Mykeps

My Swan Songs

1. "Return to Innocence" -- Enya
2. "Someday We'll Know" -- New Radicals
3. "Brick" -- Ben Folds Five
4. "All I Want" -- Toad the Wed Sprocket
5. "I Wanna Be Sedated" -- Ramones
6. "Never Ever" -- All Saints
7. "Barely Breathing" -- Duncan Sheik
8. "Malibu" -- Hole
9. "Insensitive" -- Jan Arden
10. "It's All Been Done" -- Barenaked Ladies

Reminder

Never, ever mess with Mykel Andrada.

2004-03-14T02:49:00.000+08:00

Give me a song that doesn't remind you of romance.

What?

None.

Here's a flight of fists for you.

2004-03-12T04:45:00.000+08:00

AT NIGHT, ALONE

1. Be Socratic for a while. Then be Nietzschean and contemplate on what Nietzsche said: "There is no god, only a superman." Then I stick my finger in my mouth and say aloud, "Matalino si U Z. Eliserio!"
2. Try to write a poem or two.
3. Launch a hegira against mosquitoes.
4. Get tired of being postructuralist over text messages.
5. Light a cigarette.
6. Deconstruct songs while looking for that perenially lost clipper.
7. Finish my eighth glass of water.
8. Comb my hair with my fingers and remember that maternal praxis of sending a child to sleepdom.
9. Remember Anne Sexton's line "At night, alone, I marry the bed."
10. Think of R. and realize that "I have miles to go before I sleep."

2004-03-09T00:58:00.000+08:00

Estudyante Blues

When my friends hear me say that I feel like I'm gonna get a failing grade for one of my MA classes, they give me the cold shoulder, and that queer look that upto now is unfathomable for me.

But I'm not kidding; I'm not being a polite erudite; or a pretentious proud peti-bourgeoise for that matter.

These days I can't even fake a straight line. A dishevelled hand is a distraught hieroglyphics on paper. My fingers become trembling branches of a tree. And my palms the basin of saltwater.

I'm seriously thinking of halting my graduate studies; of filing a leave of absence; of finding a more secure job -- a field-oriented work, maybe, such that in a non-governmtal organization. Books contain letters, profound or rotten depending on what ideas and insights they conjure. But one thing's for sure, a linguistic concoction should not be a determinist one. Mykel -- my own linguistic concoction -- does not say who I really am. I have abandoned linguistic determinism. Mykel -- is an integral accident -- an excuse to be (in)different.

I have P3.25 in my pocket. It's not even enough to get me a jeepney ride. Two sticks of Winston Lights will do for now.

Good morning to those people who have a penchant for disowning me.

2004-03-06T20:23:00.000+08:00

Aliw-iw

Aliw-iw ang tawag sa tunog ng hangin. Alik-ik sa tunog ng tubig sa ilog kapag niyayakap nito ang mga bato.

Ngayong narito na naman ako sa Dapitan, biglang di na naman sumusunod ang mga daliri ko sa iniaatas ng tiklado ng kompyuter. Mayroon ba akong isusulat? Uunahin ko na ang mga balitang masaya:

1. Pumasa ako sa 43rd UP National Writers Workshop
2. Bati na kami ni U Z. Eliserio
3. Nanalo si Jayson Fajardo sa Philippine Collegian Exam for the next Editor in Chief (2004-2005)
4. Nakumpuni na ang cellphone ni R.
5. Nakauwi na ako sa bahay.

2004-02-29T17:59:00.000+08:00

R.

Needless to say, I was surprised when R. went to the Tanghal Talinghaga last Thursday.

When I went on stage, the first thing I did before hitting the note of the "Sangandaan" first line was to scour for his face in the crowd. There he was, standing at the back, illuminating and white. My memory of R. would always be associated with white: his white skin, his white sando when I first saw him buying lunch at Aling Lina's humble cart, his white polos, and more white polos. And that smile, and those brilliant white teeth that remind me of white picket fences.

2004-02-22T17:02:00.000+08:00

Fiend

From this day on, I swear to be kinder, to be more honest, to be more straightforward, and to be more understanding of friends. But at the same time, I promise to kick out people undeserving of my friendship.

Just like this Hobbit, this creature of habit, this friend that I really hold dear. They say that with age comes wisdom. Yes, this Hobbit is knowledgeable, but with age also comes maturity. This Hobbit is so immature, so self-centered, and so dubious. I quote him, "Our mutual friends say you lie a lot." I don't lie a lot. I only lie when necessary. For example, I lie when I'm in love. I say I don't love someone when in fact I do.

I lie when I can't attend a birthday party or some sort of reunion because I already have a previous engagement. I lie by saying: "I don't have money." When I don't have enough sleep, ergo, wake up late next day, though my spirit is willing but the flesh is weak so I won't be able to go to work, I text my boss: "I'm on a field trip."

But this time, this time, I really have no reason to lie. I think, I believe, I haven't lied to the Hobbit. I mean well when I say I miss him, his crazy antics, his far-fetched ideas that seem tangible at times. I did not lie when I told him I haven't gotten hold of the Amelia Lapeña Bonifacio Literary Contest Rules. I asked my friend Caloi to get it for me, for the Hobbit, but Caloi was late yesterday, so there there. There there.

This Hobbit doesn't have the right to accuse me of lying, to accuse me of being irresponsible. Because for all I remember, for all I know, I have been enslaved by this selfish prick. And he doesn't have the right to put an end to our supposed friendship, just because of his childish tantrums. He's a selfish prick, a bastard, a prick, a prick, a condescending, inconsiderate, evil, insensitive Hobbit!

2004-02-17T20:36:00.000+08:00

Hiatus

Mas gusto ko sanang ikuwento ito kina Amy, Mitzie at Kat Constantino nang personal. Pero dahil hindi naman sila magkakaibigan -- ako ang nag-uugnay sa kanila (although sila Kat Con at Mitzie ay parehong Atenista at Heightsters) -- dito ka na lang ibabahagi ang nais kong ipaabot sa kanila.

Una, gusto ko kayong murahin... Joke lang. Una, gusto kong sabihin na matagal akong nawala dahil nasira ang browser ko sa bahay. Kaya badtrip talaga. Ang tanging internet access ko mula sa kuwarto ko ay ang Yahoo Messenger at ang Ragnarok Online.

Adik ako ngayon sa Ragnarok. Level 14 Mage na ako. Sinimulan ito ng bunso kong kapatid na si Jay-Ar; noong una ay ayaw kong patulan, pero sumige na rin ako dahil may naramdaman akong pamimigat sa dibdib ko kagabi. Sa katunayan, naramdaman ko ito noon pa lang Pebrero 15.

Dapat naman talaga masaya ako. Dahil sa wakas ay nakilala ko na si R. Nagtetext kami, nagkakamustahan, pero sa totoo lang, hindi full-blown ang pangangarir ko. Gusto ko siya talaga, pero hindi ko pa talaga siya kilala. Sa dalawang maiksing pag-uusap namin noong last day ng UP Fair sa Sunken Garden, marami akong nalaman tungkol sa kaniya; at gusto ko pa siya talagang mas makilala.

Heto ang kaso. Noong Pebrero 14, tinext to si Jag. Dahil namimiss ko siya, at kahit na anong pilit kong iwaksi siya sa isip ko, hindi ko magawa. Actually, may pakiramdam ako na pinipilit ko ang sarili ko na maging sementadong tao, sa loob at labas. Pero kahit na gaano katigas at kakapal ang pagkakasemento, nabubuwal pa rin ito. Hindi siya nagtext back. Nung una, may maliit na paruparong nag-aalburoto sa dibdib ko. Hanggang sa lumipas ang 14 at dumating ang 15, 16, at ngayon nga 17 na. May inalagaan akong paruparo sa dibdib. At ngayon nga ang paruparo, tulad nang sabi ni Ken Ishikawa sa akin nung Ateneo Writers Workshop, ay isa nang ganap na mariposa. Pulampula, may kakayanang bumulag, at masakit ang haplit ng malalaking pakpak.

Nag-usap kami ni Caloi sa telepono hanggang alas dos ng madaling araw. Marami kaming angas, haypotesis, tesis, anti-tesis at sintesis. Ang sintesis, sa dulo, ay catharsis naman palagi para sa akin. Isang realisasyon: nangangahulugan man itong tadyak sa tadyang o bukol sa ulo, o kung mas papalarin, haplos sa buhok bago matulog. Sabi ko kay Caloi dati, ganun naman talaga ang relasyon -- kaibigan man o romantiko -- sa una'y maninipis na hiblang kailangang habihin, at sa huli, maaring maging kumot, damit, o di kaya'y basahan. Maaari ring maging lubid -- makapal na lubid -- panali o pamposas, o di kaya'y pambigti.

Kung may pagkakataon, bigyan ninyo naman ako ng gunting. (Realisasyon Blg. 1)

Ganun pala iyon. Nag-aalaga ako ng paruparo para kitilin. (Realisasyon Blg. 2)

2004-02-10T20:13:00.000+08:00

Ojos animasola

My eyes are strained. My back like a broken violin. Eight long hours of staring at a text heavy manuscript; it's horror vacui at its best.

2004-02-08T14:59:00.000+08:00

Visiting Dapitan

Ever since I got a modem, surfing has become a private room affair. I have totally ignored this internet shop in Dapitan -- the one place, aside from anywhere but home, that I considered then a solace, a temporary hideout, a summer escape eventhough the nights still chill my skin and gnaw at my bones.

Now that my browser at home is flinching like my shoulders during the cold wee hours, I'm back here, in this internet shop, in Dapitan where once in our history, the legendary but now dead national hero was made to rot. And needless to say, it gives me the creeps. I'm not used to the jolt whenever children sneak at my back to read or oggle at whatever I'm doing. I can't even change my goddamn pics at Friendster!

I made the mistake of recoiling here. Maybe Rizal has something nice to say about me, about what I have conspicuously unabridged in my sordid existence; of how an attempt to unsordiding can make one feel like a dead cat, sideswept by a jeepney.

2004-02-05T00:40:00.000+08:00

Whirring, a fan seems impenetrable. Like a scaffolding whirlwind. Ants disdainful. Thrown, far-flung, like listless stars.

2004-02-04T09:13:00.000+08:00

You Have An Age-Restricted Area

If you're below 18, stop here.

2004-02-01T20:21:00.000+08:00

Last Samurai

1. 2pm dumating kami ni Caloi sa SM North Edsa (dapat talagang iboykot 'tong SM dahil sa unfair labor practices, pero -- hindi naman sa jinajustify ko ang pagiging kliyente ko pa rin nito hanggang ngayon -- wala na kaming ibang malapit na mapanooran ng sine kaya no choice. basta, may patterns naman ang subversion e, ehehehe.) Maraming tao sa Atrium, kitang-kita namin mula sa First Floor pa lang. Nakatakdang dumating si Piolo Pascual para sa launching ng kanyang album. Gustong hintayin ni Caloi si Piolo.
2. 4pm pa ang Last Samurai kaya nag-Booksale muna kami. Isa sa Annex at isa sa Main Building.
3. 3pm napagod kami ni Caloi sa katatayo; bumaba kami sa Food Court para lang maupo. Mahaba ang pila sa bilihan ng VCDs at tapes ni Piolo. Buti na lang at walang balak bumili ng album ni Piolo si Caloi.
4. 3:50pm. Niyakag ko na si Caloi dahil baka mahuli pa kami sa pagsisimula ng 4pm show ng Last Samurai. Bumili si Caloi ng large Coke sa Jollibee. Bumili ako ng Mongo Hopia with salted eggs sa Salazar. Si Tilapia ang nagpakilala sa akin sa Salazar.
5. 3:55pm. Nakapila kami at nagmamadaling pumila si Caloi, hindi dahil mahuhuli na kami kundi may natipuhan siyang mga Indian o Arabo ata. Nagmamadali ring pumasok si Caloi para sundan kung saan mauupo yung mga dayuhan. Hindi nakuha ng babae yung tiket ko dahil dumiretso ako sa guwardiya para ipainspeksyon ang bag ko. Natatakot kasi akong kunin pa niya ang digicam ko. Nakalusto ako.
6. 4pm. Nakahanap kami ng puwesto sa may gitnang hilera ng mga upuan. Hindi namin katabi ang mga dayuhan. Maganda ang view. Pinagtitinginan kami ng mga tao habang naglalakad kami papunta sa napili naming upuan. Bakit kaya?
7. 4pm to 6:30pm. Kumakain kami ng binili naming P34 ensaymada sa Mercury Drug Philcoa kagabi. Ako lang ang kumain ng Hopia with salted eggs. Siguro, kaya ayaw ni Caloi kasi ibang maalat na itlog ang gusto niya, ehehehe. Last Samurai. Tulad nang inaasahan, hindi namatay si Tom Cruise. Halos puro Hapon ang namatay. At sa diskurso ng Budhismo, sa huli'y hindi lang ang batang Emperor ang naliwanagan, kundi maging si Tom Cruise.
8. 6:30-7pm. Yosi sa bagong parking area ng SM, dun sa may botanical show.
9. 7pm bumili ako ng dalawang Winston Lights, nagsindi ng isa, naglakad at nakasakay sa harapang upuan ng dyip.
10. 7:10pm. Bumaba ang katabi kong babaeng umiinom ng Zagu ata, basta pearl shakes. Sumakay ang isang mabangong lalaki.
11. 7:25pm. (a) Bumaba ako sa Jollibee Welcome Rotonda. Sinindihan ko ang huling Winston ko; (b) May tumingin sa aking isang maputing binatilyo; (c) may nakita akong patay na pusang grey, dilat ang mga mata nito at tila sinipa lang sa gutter; (d) nakasalubong ko si Mayang at isang kaibigan niyang di ko alam ang pangalan. Pinaswitan sila ng dalawang guwardiyang nagbabantay sa isang factory sa kanto ng mga kalye ng Mayon at P. Florentino; (e) may mamang umiihi malapit sa gate ng garments factory sa kanto ng P. Florentino at Iba Street, ang kalye namin; (f) may asong lumabas mula sa gate ng garments factory at dagli ring bumalik sa loob, may tumawag ata sa aso; (g) nag-iinuman na naman sa tapat ng bahay ng mga nambugbog sa kapatid ko, palihim ko silang binugahan ng usok; (h) nagbabasketbol si Francis sa may court katabi ng bahay namin. Anak si Francis ni Maweng, isa sa mga nambugbog kay Jay-ar; (i) nakaupo si Jay-ar sa plastic chair sa tapat ng tindahan ni Tita Alice, nakikipagkuwentuhan sa isang boy ng kapitbahay namin; (j) pumasok ako ng bahay at ni-lock ang gate; naabutan kong kumukuha ng panghapunan ang tatay ko, niyaya niya akong kumain pero sabi ko "Magbibihis muna ako"; (k) pumasok ako sa kuwarto ng nanay at tatay ko, nagbubutingting ng cellphone ang nanay ko; humalik ako sa pisngi niya tapos sabi niya: "Kararating lang rin ng Kuya mo sa Taiwan. Sabay pa kayong dumating"; (l) pumasok ako sa kuwarto ko (na kuwarto ng Kuya ko pag umuuwi siya saglit dito sa Pilipinas, binuksan ko ang kompyuter, kumonek sa ISP Bonanza; (m) at habang hinihintay kong ma-establish ang connection, hinihintay ko rin kung sasarang mag-isa ang pintong naiwan kong bukas nang bahagya; hindi malakas ang hangin pero nagagawa nitong pagalawin ang pinto. Limang beses ang pagtatangka ng hanging isarado ang pinto. Hindi siya nagtagumpay.

2004-01-30T23:30:00.000+08:00

Anopheles

Hindi ako makaisip ng magandang first line para sa blog. Hindi rin nakakatulong na pinapapak ako ng lamok ngayon. Sabi ng Invertebrate Zoology teacher ko nung nasa USTe pa ako, babaeng anopheles mosquito lamang ang nangangagat para kumuha ng dugo ng taong kakailangin niya para sa reproduksyon. At ngayong boxers lang ang suot ko, ang suwerte ng mga babaeng lamok. At kung kukuhanan ko ang sarili ko, full body, o di kaya'y tatapat sa malaking salamin, tiyak kong mapagkakamalan kong mapa ng mundo ang balat ko -- mga pantal-pantal na pulo sa sansinukob.

Bumaba si Jay-ar, ang bunso kong kapatid, at tinanong niya ako kung tapos na akong mag-internet. Sabi ko, "Ano ka ba? Kasisimula ko nga lang." Ang totoo niyan, kanina pa ako nag-iisip pero wala akong maiutot sa blog na ito. At ang kabagalan ng friendster sa kapitbahay na bintana ay hindi nakakatulong. Sabi ni Jay-ar: "Okay na rin yun (na matagal pa akong mag-iinternet). At least libre na ako mamaya."

Ang ibig niyang sabihin sa "libre" ay ang nakatakdang free hours sa binili niyang internet card: ala-una ng madaling araw hanggang alas siyete ng umaga. Naisip ko naman: libre siyang mag-surf ng porno at maglaro ng Ragnarok dahil tulog na ang mga tao nang ganung oras.

Nang tumalikod siya mula sa pagkakatalikod ko (dahil nakaharap ako sa kompyuter), bigla niyang kinanta nang mahina ang "I'll Never Love This Way Again." Sa totoo lang, hindi ko alam kung ito ang tamang pamagat ng kanta, pero 'yun, para sa marami, ang pinakapopular na linya ng kanta. Kinanta iyon ni Regine Velasquez sa SOP tatlong Linggo na ang nakararaan, kung hindi ako nagkakamali. At iyong kanta ring iyon mismo ang ginawa naming paligsahan ni Veejay sa labas ng opisina ng Philippine Collegian. Ako ang nakaabot ng tono, dahil na rin siguro ako ang may background sa pagkanta. Tandaan: ako ang Videoke King, ehehehe.

Pero sabi ni Veejay: "Hmp! Isinisigaw mo lang naman!" Sabi ko: "Inggit ka lang! Wala kang alam sa vocal acrobatics and musicology!"

Kanina, galing ako sa Timog. Kumain kami nina Punk, Caloi, Roy, Louie at Milky sa Napoli's. Tsalap-tsalap ng pizza. May bago akong nakilala. Kaibigan ni Louie. Si Friday, isang babaeng muslim na taga-Fine Arts sa UP Diliman rin. Mabait siya. Pinasakay pa nga niya kami sa van niya mula UP Diliman hanggang Napoli's. Sabi niya, habang kumakain kami: "Tahimik ba talaga kayo 'pag kumakain o gutom lang kayo?" Sabi ko: "Gutom na gutom!"

Naunang umuwi sila Louie, Friday at Punk. At kaming apat na natira ay naglakad sa Timog, pumunta sa isang maliit na videoke bar sa tabi ng Mocha Blends. Kumanta ako ng walang-kamatayang "Goodnight Girl" at "Minsan Lang Kitang Iibigin." Umuwi kaming walang matinong iskor dahil wala palang scoring system ang videoke machine doon.

2004-01-29T13:33:00.000+08:00

COMMENTS ARE WELCOME
I really don't know how I'm going to pull off my report today. The clock's hands dilute in my vision, and my heart pumps like a horse on a race. I'm around three hours away from getting stabbed in front of my theory class.

Woke up 11am. The first thing I did was turn on my computer. Connecting to ISP Bonanza was easy. Friendster. Two Yahoo Mail accounts. One Mail.com account. Mitzie's Patatas Project blog. Then mine.

For two hours, I literally ignored the Resil Mojares book. I logged on to my blogger account, edited my template, and lo and behold, I have a Haloscan comment tag and a Site Meter. Thanks to Mitzie.

My dad has nudged me to eat lunch with him and Aling Tuning, the labandera. But so intent I was with "upgrading" the operations of my blog that I secretly winced and opted to light a cigarette. Now, an hour after the successful tryst, I am ready to end this blog entry and find myself a suitable seat for a gustatory feast.

2004-01-28T21:01:00.000+08:00

TESTIMONIAL FOR BANANA DUCKY

I'm writing this testimonial in between studying the intricacies of Genetic Criticism for my theory class and labyrinthing my mind for a one-act play. So to say that this testimonial is a seminal historiography of my best friendship with Amy is an understatement.

Amy reminds me of my good days in UPLB; the long walks that would usually end in Dennis' place or in beer-screaming bars. The four o'clock or five o'clock one-beer affairs at IC's or Sizzlers. The long obtrusive insightful heart-warming talks and sobs.

During sprees of deciding it's better not to hold class, we would find solace at IRRI's canteen. She drives her "Buick" towards IRRI; the rides were short but the emotional comfort is long; she scours for a Radiohead or Radiohead-related song in the kotseng kuba's stereo, while I pick-up fragments of myself scattered in the outskirts of the UPLB polis.

Amy reminds me how Mariang Makiling rests her head edgily, a symptom of the ubiquitous search for peace. That, we have yet to find. For we have been inflicted with the Actaeon complex, the momentary temporal oggling at existential nudity, and the ramified scourge of the most delinquent of all sins: to free your heart and mind.

We drink coffee, breathe heavily, and our faces become red as sunsets.

2004-01-28T12:45:00.000+08:00

TROLLS

You think that I'm strong. You're wrong. You're wrong. I'm singing my song, my song, my song. -- "Strong" by Robbie Williams

2004-01-27T23:37:00.000+08:00

KALULUWA

Giniginaw maging ang kaluluwa.

Bigla ko lang itong naisip habang pinauusukan ko ng asul na nikotina ang sarili ko laban sa lamok. Matagal ko nang alam na habang humihithit ako ng yosi, lalo akong nangangaligkig dahil sa ginaw. Kinapa-kapa ko ang tiyan ko, naiipon na ang taba, at hindi dahil sa serbesa kaya lumalaki ang tiyan ko.

Sabi nila, kapag mataba ang tao, mas may kakayanan siyang tiisin ang lamig; na ang sobrang adipose sa katawan ay nagluluwal ng init. Pero ang sobrang taba, alam ko, ay indikasyon ng pagtanda, ng pagsikdo ng mga kalamnan tuwing nadadarang ng init, ng pangungulimlim ng mga mata tuwing nagpupuyat, ng pagtubo ng uban, ng mas aktibong pagpapawis, ng pagpapatianod sa kawalang-katiyakan.

Sa murang edad ko na tatawagin kong interregnum ng pagiging beinte at trenta, nangangamba akong magising na lang isang araw na hindi ko na kilala ang mga hibla ng buhok sa sarili kong katawan. Natatakot akong humarap sa salamin at makitang maliit na ang mga damit ko, na di ko na kailangang magpagupit ng buhok dahil umuurong na ito, na malabusaw ang imahe ko sa salamin dahil sa paglabo ng mata.

At iyong taba, hindi naman siguro indikasyon na ako'y nagiging banidoso lalo, ay lagi akong binabatukan: ayokong tumanda at malirip na ang tanging paraan para ako ay makapaglakbay ay sa pamamagitan ng paggulong.

Kapag sinisipat ko ang tiyan ko, naaalala ko nung bata ako't buntis ang nanay ko sa ikatlo kong kapatid. Nakalulon siya ng lobo o bola, ang naisip ko. At kapag ayaw niya akong kargahin, dahil magiging masama para sa lobo o bola sa loob ng kaniyang sinapupunan, pinupukol ko ang mga kamao ko sa kaniyang puwet. Hanggang sa pumutok ang lobo o bola sa loob ng kaniyang tiyan.

Masama ang maging selosong bata. Masama ang maging walang-wawa. Dapat pala'y lima kaming magkakapatid sa Ina.

2004-01-24T23:01:00.000+08:00

My eyelids carry the weight of the world.

2004-01-24T00:37:00.000+08:00

PRELUDE TO PRECLUDE

An hour or so ago, Ronald, one of my brother Mark's best friends, rang the door bell. There he was, with his pretty face slightly dawned on by his white cap; a red polo shirt hugged his body. He gained weight by the way his shirt revealed some body fat. No wonder, he's already a father of two or more. He's not even in his mid-20s.

My first impulse was to smile at him, the way I greet everyone else, especially those close to my family. But I immediately wiped away my red lips when he let out a deep earthly "Kuya, andyan ba si Mark?"

"Bakit?" I responded.

"Heto na naman ako. Manghihingi sana ako ng tulong... Namatay kasi 'yung anak ko."

I opened the gate and let him in while telling him that Mark wasn't around. "Nandun ata siya sa bahay ng girlfriend niya. Bakit, anong nangyari?" He was just mumbling, most of the words slipped into thin air. He said, "Pasensiya na kuya, medyo nakainom ako. Galing kasi ako sa mga kumpare ko, nanghihingi ako ng tulong."

When we got to the sala (receiving area by day, and a lame bedroom by night) my mom was sitting carelessly on the arm of a chair. Ronald uttered the usual "magandang gabi po" and started with what seemed to me already mechanical and mindless lines that have stricken him over and over as he went hopping from one kumpare's abode to another. There were cracks in his voice, like a glass contemplating suicide, a prelude to falling on the floor, a slackened death of sanity.

I left him and my mom; these days, my rib cage is prone to breaking at any debilitating news. A child's death is hard for me to reconcile; as if death is only for the elderly. I felt ethereal palms covering my ears, dissuading myself from absorbing the literally breaking news. I struggle(d) for emotional sanity.

But his words, Ronald's wrecked words, harrowing like a river hollering, found their way to drum my ears. The news, the sad news. His child arrived dead at the hospital; two hours already, rough cold slowly inhabiting the body. I reached for my wallet, hooked P200, instructed my mom to hand it to Ronald. I have P60 left in my wallet.

A gnawing guilt ate me for the spending I did for today: P20 for a pack of Winston Lights. P28 fine for overdue books. P100 snack (two footlong sandwiches, 2 plastic cups of buko juice, a bottle of Pepsi Twist) good for me, Roy and Chu. P60 for a Thai dinner at Kafe Krianna (Teacher's Village). P103 for four AAA alkaline batteries for the digital camera my Kuya Rodel gave me. P100 for a 25-hour Surf Maxx internet card.

And now I remember all the bargain books I bought. All the ukay-ukay clothes. The expensive ceramic cats. The antique wooden cat figurines. The lofty mobile line bills.

Earlier in the afternoon, I was erratic, hyper, and laughing hard at the jokes that I cracked myself. While Louie, Caloi and I were walking towards a food cart, I told them how strangely happy and exhilirated I was.

Thinking aloud, I said: "Ang weird. Ang kulit-kulit ko na naman. Feeling ko, prelude na naman 'to sa kalungkutan."

2004-01-23T12:07:00.000+08:00

HAYSKUL

Sabi ko na nga ba e. Kapag sinagutan ko ang bulletin board post sa friendster tungkol sa High School Senti, tiyak kong maraming magtatanong. Una na si Den Cal, sa kaniyang message na may subject title na "i have a question..." Aniya, "Naging kayo ba ni E-----? Kinda straight forward,huh? Have a nice day!"

Siyempre pinag-isipan ko pa kung sasagutin ko ba 'yung tanong niya. E sobrang tagal na naming di nagkakausap nitong si Den Cal, siguro eight years na. Ewan ko. A, hindi pala, one time nakita ko siya nung second year ako sa UP, year 2001 yun, nung nangangampanya ako for Vice-Chair sa University Student Council. Andun siya sa tambayan ng frat niya, tapos nakasalubong ko rin siya habang suot-suot ko ang malaking nameplate kung saan nakasulat ang pangalan ko. Tiningnan pa nga niya yung nameplate ko na para bang nagulat dahil Second Year pa lang ako ay yung second highest council position agad ang tinakbuhan ko.

Hemingways, so the point is, hindi pala eight years ang haba nang hindi namin pag-uusap ni Den Cal. Basta pagkagradweyt nung high school, nagkalabuan na ang mga barkada't tropa namin. Matapos ang paghinga nang malalim-lalim at pag-utot nang mahinhin, sinagot ko rin ang tanong niya.

Sa mga umagang tulad ngayon, na kaliligo ko lang ay nagpapawis na agad ang kilikili ko kahit nakatapat na sa akin ang electric fan; sa mga umagang tulad ngayon, na wala akong t-shirt at naka-boxer shorts lang ako; sa mga umagang tulad ngayon, na wala akong yosing mahithit; sa mga umagang tinititigan ako ng isinusulat ko rito sa blog; sa mga umagang tulad ngayon, nagiging pasmadong mga palad ni E----- ang mga palad ko.

2004-01-22T02:39:00.000+08:00

PUTANG INA!

Ang kapal ng mukha ng putanginang siya! Biruin mo, ni-reject niya ang friendster request ko. Ang kapal ng mukha! Di naman ako makikipagbalikan sa kaniya. Hayskul pa yun at parehong magulo at adbenturoso lang kami. Wala naman akong ibang maisip na dahilan kung bakit kailangang ibasura niya ang friendster request ko. Putangina!

Wala naman akong ibang intensyon! Tangna! Yung ibang kaklase namin nung hayskul na di naman niya kabatak ay inaprubahan niya ang friendster request. Tapos ako, pinasalimpad na lang niya sa hangin nang ganun-ganun lang. Putsa! Parang wala kaming pinagsamahan! Badtrip talaga! Kasalanan ko ba kung may nangyari sa amin dati? Hindi naman ako ang nagsimula noon a! Siya talaga! Siya ang nang-se-seduce nung nag-kamping kami sa Jamboree Site sa Los Banos, Laguna!

At di rin ako ang nagsimula nang may nangyari sa amin sa sinehan habang nanonood ng Body Guard starring Whitney Houston at Kevin Costner. Racist pa nga siya nun: sabi niya, kadiri talaga kapag isang puti at isang itim ang naghahalikan. Putsa! E siya nga dati, gigil na gigil sa etits ko habang magkatabi kaming nakasakay sa harapang upuan ng FX pauwi.

Pero higit pa doon, magkaibigan naman talaga kami noon. Sabay kaming umuwi, minsan inihahatid niya ako malapit sa bahay ko. Paborito naming maglaro ng volleyball, tapos binigyan pa niya ako ng rubber shoes dati dahil sobrang warak at tagpi-tagpi na ang Dragonfly shoes ko. Tangina! Bukas, kapag nakakita ako ng tutubi sa kalsada, huhulihin ko!

2004-01-20T22:56:00.000+08:00

Matapos ang muli kong pagpipilit na tumula sa Ingles (antagal na kasi, may tatlong buwan na siguro simula nung huli akong magsulat ng English poem), ay heto naman ang Tula.

SANTOL

Maliban sa isang bulok na santol, wala nang ibang makikita sa mesang parisukat.

Nakapuwesto ang maliit na mesa malapit sa bintana.

Sa labas, makikita ang mayabang na buwan, bilog na bilog at dilaw-kahel.

May pusang nakatanghod sa pasimano, malay na nakatitig sa kalawakan;

Nakatutok sa buwan na hinog na hinog na santol sa paningin nito.

2004-01-20T22:37:00.000+08:00

BEHIND

When I opened the door,
There he was, my young lover,
with his lopsided teeth gritting
like a bulldozer. My first impulse
was to punch him hard on the face
(he bit my ear last night
and hollered another name
when I took him behind),
but a lazy wet thump on my hair
told me to look up.
And there it was, a sly lizard,
with its scales flaking,
misconstruing my head
for a ceramic shit-hole.

2004-01-19T23:26:00.000+08:00

HINGGIL SA TENSYONADONG SUBJECT TITLE AT PAGIGING MAKAKALIMUTIN

roland,

pakiramdam ko ngayon ay isa akong masamang anak. nakalimutan ko, sa lahat ng malilimutan, na kaarawan nga pala ng nanay ko ngayon. pagkatapos ng half-day na trabaho sa press, lumarga ako sa cubao. nagbookhunting, nagshopping sa ukay-ukay ng magagandang damit at jacket (kahit napakarami ko nang jacket!), bumili ng original pero sale na vcds ng Amelie at Y Tu Mama Tambien sa SM Cubao. Sa SM pa of all places, na dapat binoboykot ko kahanay ng Nestle products.

Isa sigurong indikasyon na tumatanda na ako ay nagiging malilimutin ako, laluna sa mga bagay, okasyon, at pangalang dapat ay nakaukit na sa memory cells ko. ewan ko ba kung dahil nga ito sa taun-taong pagtikatik ng edad, pero iniisip ko rin na dahil ito sa dami ng iniisip ko, pati yung mga bagay na ayokong dalumatin pero pilit na sumisiksik sa utak ko. Tinext pa ako ng nanay ko nang alas-7 ng gabi, habang nakasakay ako sa may tabi ng drayber ng dyip at nagpapahagod ng nikotina sa mga baga ko. Sabi niya: "Anong oras ka uuwi? may KFC (Kentucky Fried Chicken) dito." Akala ko ay tinamad na namang magluto ang nanay ko dahil bagod siya sa lampas walong oras na trabaho sa isang Regional Trial Court dito sa Manila. Nalimutan ko talaga na bertday niya ngayon.

Dumating ako sa bahay mga alas-otso. Hindi pa rin ako noon sinisipa ng alaala; hindi ko na matandaan kung kelan nagsimula, pero ang nakasanayan ko na tuwing kaarawan ng nanay ko ay babatiin ko siya ng "maligayang bati" at hahalikan sa pisngi. buti na lang kanina bago ako pumasok sa trabaho ay nahalikan ko siya sa pisngi. routine ko yon tuwing nagpapaalam sa kaniya; sa nanay ko lang ako humahalik nang hindi ko nararamdaman na mekanikal ko itong ginagawa. na parang bawat paglapat ng mga labi ko sa pisngi niya -- habang ingat na ingat akong di siya mabasa ng laway -- ay isang kosmolohikal na karanasan; isang pagpapatianod ng at sa maternal na pagmamahal.

Naisip kong magsinungaling. na kunwari'y binilhan ko siya ng damit sa ukay-ukay. tiningnan ko ang mga binili ko, at medyo pinaglimian ko kung ibibigay ko ba sa kaniya ang polo-shirt na nabili ko dahil iyon lang ang mukhang bagay at kasya sa kanya. pero hindi ko rin ibinigay sa kaniya. dahil bukod sa gustong-gusto ko ang polong iyon ay ayokong magsinungaling. santambak na ang mga kasinungalingan ko sa nanay ko at ayoko nang pataasin pa ito. kaya tinext ko na lang siya ng isang espesyal na text kahit na nasa kabilang kuwarto lamang siya at natutulog katabi ng tatay kong nanonood nang half-awake sa TV.

Mamaya, bago ako matulog, sisilipin ko silang muli sa kuwarto kung natutulog na sila. Tititigan ko sila habang natutulog. Tititigan ko ang pagtaas-baba ng kanilang mga tiyan dahil sa paghinga.

2004-01-19T21:10:00.000+08:00

Recently found out that my crush is sex-starved. I'm not saying I don't enjoy making love. I do, really. And I want to do it with my crush. Hopefully on V-Day.

2004-01-18T19:39:00.000+08:00

Annie Lenox's "Waiting in Vain" is playing in this computer's WinAmp. I'm at the Collegian office. I went here after our two-day exposure trip in a farming village in Nasugbu, Batangas and the Cavite Export Processing Zone in Rosario, Cavite. "Don't treat me like a puppet on a string."

I wrote a new friendster thingy for myself. Here it goes:

Enough of the bitter UPLB pill about David, Lamug, Toretta and Rufo. I'm single, and I don't know if it's just because February is biting January's hem that I finally decided to let go of all the bitterness. Anyhow, I'm seriously contemplating on not being alone this Heart's Day. And the days after. This is so mushy that I want to bite my own head off. The top head, of course.

2004-01-17T10:59:00.000+08:00

ABRE LOS OJOS

Waiflike rays thump Mykel's eyelids. Abre los ojos. Brother buzzes like a tractor. Mother fixes a cup of coffee and leaves for work. Mykel opens a can of Reno liver spread. Father rushes to the bathroom; "morning ritual," he announces. Mykel eats his sandwich. Father still defecating. Mykel texts Suyin about exposure trip in export processing zones in Batangas and Cavite. Suyin does not text back. Mykel waits for Father to go out of the bath. Mykel walks through imaginary halls. Father exits, finally. Mykel lights a Winston. Mykel indian-sits on his throne. Mykel sings a love song. Mykel sings a love song.

UNTITLED FICTION
Three ceramic cats eating porridge.

FAMILIALITY
Yesterday, my brother met an accident. He was boarding this jeepney when all of a sudden the driver rushed and left my brother to fall heavily on the ground. I was inclined to tease him that he needed an iron mask to hide the scars on his beautiful face. My brother, whose face is undoubtedly Hellenic, now nurtures scars. No skull fracture. Neck pains, yes. And a swollen foot (forgot which one).

The healing will arrive soon, my brother. Don't worry.

Once, my brother told me that taking long strides in a not-so-popular mall, someone approached him. "Sino?" I asked. "Bakla!" he retorted. "Bakit raw?" my eyebrows were like colliding larva. "Pwede raw akong maging ramp model!" he answered proudly. The stranger gave him a calling card. My brother never called him.

That's the time I began to envy him again.

2004-01-16T23:07:00.000+08:00

INTELLECTUAL ONANISM

Dennis sends a deluge of words in his short stories; he is the master of his own cosmogeny. And as a mere mortal reader, I am beholden to understand the world where he takes everyone of us, to participate in a post-structuralist operation. I'll end this testimonial just about here. Joke. Rather, I'll make an epistemological analysis of Dennis as a friend. His palms are privy to the secrets of any pointed object, with particular emphasis on anything that scrabbles, draws, or paints. His fingers, like unearthen ginger roots, thump magnum opuses on any blank space, be it a paper, a desk, or a wall. Where's epistemology in all of these belated words? It's the science of knowing. First, how do his fingers ape the paintings at Lascaux? Like precolonial horses rummaging your soul. Second, how does self-reflixibility emanate in his fiction? The profundity of it all seethes like an ascaris in between your toes. Third, this is the bind of intellectuals like Dennis. Cognitive dissonance, ei? :) Maybe. But an attempt to map Dennis as a social construct, and as how Paul Virilio puts it -- "integral accident" -- will take us to steep plunges of intellectual onanisms and rigorous nights of playing Savage Garden in his WinAmp. It's all that walk Dennis. And it's all in the walk. :)

2004-01-15T02:21:00.000+08:00

OMNIPRESENT

I'm always here in Quezon City. But still, I am everywhere.

I got a text message two days ago, I think, informing me that I have a "twin" brother in UPLB; a dark replica of me. "As in!" the text message boasts. All of a sudden, a deluge of memories hits me: of high school and college scenes; walking in the quadrangle and coming face to face with a mirror image.

But the fondest memory I have of look-alikes is a boy in a public market in San Francisco, Del Monte, Quezon City. The spot he's stewarding is two stalls away from where I sell ready-to-wear Divisoria and Baclaran products. His name is Marlon. He has my face, my thick eyebrows, my chinky smiling eyes, my red red lips. We were thin then, long legs, medium torsos, slender arms, and candle-like fingers. The first time I saw him, he was wearing a floral puruntong and an old plain white t-shirt. But what was more inevitable to notice is how he resembled my every move -- the way my eyes follow a cute customer, the way I squint each time a parlorista fancies me, the way I stride, like a cat leaving a trail of fallen hair, the way I carry my slippers.

And of course the way I eat. A meal is always a gustatory feast, be it fish crackers dipped in Milo, banana cue sprinkled with ground Skyflakes, or halu-halo with lotsa leche flan atop. I eat like hell is after me. And when I was younger, I really didn't care if I spill Coke on the table, or annoy people around me with my munching, or intimidate passers-by with my lewd glances while biting off the poles of a banana cue.

So Marlon was like that. Like a long-lost brother. With my brothers around, people who don't know us will misconstrue Marlon for my real sibling. My brothers and I, we're four proud steeds, don't look like we hail from the same mom and dad. What more with my paternal half-brother and half-sisters?

2004-01-12T23:43:00.000+08:00

DIGITAL IMPERIALISM AND SUBVERSION

I bought a BRAND NEW Epson Stylus C61 printer for only P2000. Thanks to Julius, a renaissance man, who got it as a price for an art contest he joined last year. A lot of my friends, actually, don't want me to buy it. They say the ink costs too much; refills even. That it prints slow, and is not really practical for multitude printing, such as that which characterizes my academic and literary life.

Anyhow, I asked myself, why not buy it? I searched the internet and found out that it costs around P5000 to P7000. It's a good buy. Jologs ako, and I grab every opportunity that enables me to get something good for a lesser cost. I don't buy branded pants, for example, as leisurely as most of my friends do. I scour the Surplus Shops in malls, go ukay-ukay in Cubao, and I fall flat on my knees when my brother gives me Benetton jeans from Hong Kong or Taiwan.

Why not buy it? Maybe I'm just convincing myself, but opportunity knocks, and like a cat, I am never weary-eyed in waiting for and catching my prey. This material life, as how Maria Mies puts it, is a vicious "predatory mode of production." I learned that in my Feminist Theories and Women's Movements class. So right now, I don't really care what my so-called friends say. In fact, when it comes to techie stuff, I only have ears for two persons. One is J.Lo, my computer techie layout artist speech communicaton major friend. Two is none other than the practical jologs in me. So there you have it dear friends, stop contradicting me, and buy yourselves new printers. And don't you dare ask me to print your lenghty submissions for the UP Writers Workshop due on January 15!

Another thing, I actually haven't installed the printer software program. I need to buy a USB cable first.

So, I guess, what I'm trying to say is, in this era of digital imperialism, there are forms and locuses of subversion. And I guess being the digital jologs that I am, I have the right to say that I am subversive.

2004-01-12T15:27:00.000+08:00

BANYO RITUALS

Someone from the UPLB Perspective, the official student publication of UP Los Banos, invited me to be his friendster. At first, I didn't know that he was a Perspective element. I thought he was some Bon guy from my early UP Diliman days. Anyhow, reading his friendster message, I learned that he's soliciting from me permission to reprint in the pages of their paper my article about the pervading small town politics in UPLB. I sent it immediately, of course.

It is now that I realize how radical I really am. Radically hungry for attention. But it's not really that personal. More than anything else, the political guru inside my small case is growing bigger and bigger each day. Especially during times like this, when I need to rush a blog and inhibit myself from defecating in my pants.

To finish this blog, I will give you a tip on how to leave home with long jovial lips extending to your ears, knowing fully well that you won't be pestered by a sudden rumble in your stomach. First, eat fast. Don't chew your food so much. Drink three glasses of cold water or juice or any solution. Light a cigarette and draw circles in the air using your breath. After a few minutes, the lavatory will be the most comfortable place you'll ever be in your home.

But before rushing to the toilet, make sure that your Winamp, or any sonic type of gadget, is armed with your favorite songs. Put Rhett Miller on top of the list, followed by the soundtrack of "Hedwig and the Angry Inch." Let J.Lo, Cold Play, Radiohead, Avril Lavigne, Michelle Branch, The Queers, Dashboard Confessional, and the hardest and deeply captivating emo punk songs tail the list. These are enough nostalgia and melancholia to let your tummy reverberate in madness, hehehe.

Then head for that special seat inside the bathroom. That usually ocre ceramic throne bequeathed to you by the anals of the royal world. Meditate, the way kings and queens did, on how to conquer the world, what shirt to pair with your baggy pants, on spilling an intelligent line for your graduate class, on jargons spewed by E. San Juan from the material you're sedentarily editing in the university printing press you're working for, on how with age you gain unfathomable and unwanted weight, on the ails, wails and the uncertainty of a future life not anymore depricated to melancholic songs, on gustatory and biological relief.

On how life is an incessant humming of the song "The Origin of Love."

2004-01-08T13:01:00.000+08:00

Jam is three years old. I'm doing this blog while he's showing me his dimples. He saw B____'s picture in my ACDSee Viewer, and he insists that his dimples are better than B____'s.

2004-01-07T10:28:00.000+08:00

Yesterday, I successfully installed my modem. Now I belong to that privileged group of people accessing their virtual lives from home. However, it consigns me to stay longer in my room, which means less walk and adventure going to my favorite internet shop in Dapitan.

I should be preparing for my second oral report. The clock ticks, and I'm hours before standing stupid again in front of my Women and Development class. I should be reading bell hooks and Madonna Kolbenschlag, but here I am adding an entry to my electronic epistollary. Too tired of studying, too tired of being responsible, too bored being an intellectual folly.

Darryl, a former student of mine in UPLB, was kind enough to write me a Friendster testimonial. Gracias!

My pirated CD of Cold Play under my computer desk. I can't reach it.

2004-01-04T00:00:00.000+08:00

Happy birthday!

You expect me to call you, 12midnight or so, and I will. I just have to find the right words to greet my bestfriend a happy birthday. You were probably a bundle of joy to your parents when you were born, and a bitter pill for your rival big brother (who had to fight then for your parents' affection).

It's 12midnight I know. The interregnum of January 3 and 4. Needless to say, age creases, enough to give birth to steep plunges and great leaps. Of faith maybe, but hopefully of maturity. The old adage resonates: with age comes wisdom. You were wiser, you said, that's why one word is not enough for the wise. How witty! You got me dumbfounded there.

Aside from Caloi, my Nokia unit accompanies me in these treacherous hours. Will I survive the haunting cold? The mosquito attacks? The lenghty obtrusive minutes of self-denial?

My hands itch, money my Chinese folk says. But all I have in the palms of my hands are dead cells. And hundres of lines that sketch squares, hexagons, and triangles. Lines that roughen my palms, like distant thoughts obstructing my bliss.

I am happy for you, really, my bestfriend. Happy Birthday! There are no other words to say it. Midnight is young and so are you.

2004-01-03T20:00:00.000+08:00

Bought a bunch of second-hand books with Caloi. Sa Cubao na naman. Mauubos na ang pera ko, but I'm convincing myself that it's worth the buy. Bought two Colum McCann novels (among others), an P85 "Billy Elliot vcd, a P75 "Boys Don't Cry" vcd, and an antique candelabra. Whew!

Anyway, last night I tried to write testimonials for my very close friendsters. But I only managed to do one, for Lisa, a lenghty one I should say. I'm at the Collegian office, spending the night here with Caloi, finishing a report due on Monday, friendstering, and surfing anything under (or in) the web. My friend KatCon gave me a tip on how to surf adult sites more decently, hehehe. But I won't share it with you, not yet.

There are four Winston Lights sticks beside this keyboard. I hope it's enough to keep me awake.

January 3, 2004. 8:15pm. Kule office.

2004-01-02T20:40:00.000+08:00

I'm in my last 30 minutes in my favorite internet shop. I don't have to tell you again that it's in Dapitan, hehehe. Anyways, passing by Mariveles, I saw Ubas biking. He belongs to one of my fiercest childhood memories. He's older than me, mid-30s now, I surmise. The whole barangay was privy then that Ubas was one of the notorious addicts, using and dealing drugs. My mom and auntie would often scold me whenever I tried playing with Ubas. I'm too young, they said, to get involved with someone tinkering with the illegal. Makes me think that now that I'm older, is it okay to take drugs from him? :)

It is now that I remember the shock on my mom's face when I told her that I had tasted marijuana. I tried to console her though by saying that mary jane is good for the asthma. And that I don't overdo it. I don't buy it; it's communal property in UP Diliman. I'm looking forward to the February UP Diliman Fair. Lotsa people smoke weed during the hey-deys. :)

I was literally flushing an hour or so ago. Someone I fancy sent me a Friendster message. B____ just sends me twitching my lips and reddening my ears like sunsets. Is this finally the end to my daily elbowing of sadness? B_____ wants to know me better. It's just music to my ears; makes me grit my teeth a little. :)

2004-01-01T21:20:00.000+08:00

My friend Bopis immortalized a sentence in his blog: I just need to commit this to a better memory. It stings the hell in my eyes, and for a time I was certain that Dante's inferno reached for my legs. The same old story goes for me. After a blog an hour or so ago, I find myself still welling up with crankiness. Release has been elusive for me, and it takes so much emotion to write a sincere line or two.

Profundity escaped me when I least expected it. With a tittering in my head, I'd rather head home, open my door's room, lock it, turn on the computer, play Radiohead and Cold Play, maximize the amplifiers, dance like a "barriotic punk," scream my lungs, inflame my veins with nicotine, and write a fiction or poem.

I scour for some vague whispers in this overtly noisy internet shop (yup, still in Dapitan). Needless to say, they've all been overwhelmed by gunshots, childish coddlings, and machismo yoddlings. I am certain that they think of me as an "other," a visitor (or buwisitor), or a lame excuse for an intellectual freak, finishing this online epistollary entry. It seems to me that a local basketball team is in the shop. If not for the wall refrigerator, we would all have misconstrued this place for a summer get-away, beach basketball, and great bodies to oggle at.

There's certainty in the way I wink my eyes, that an entropy is in the advent, or much blushing and flushing, without the influence of weed or alcohol. Can anyone just cut my head off, and present it on a plate? That's not a nice ending for a "hopefully dreaded" entry. Let's just cut up the crap of skinning the cat alive.

2004-01-01T19:48:00.000+08:00

I just realized how childish I am. Walking in Mariveles St. towards my favorite internet shop in Dapitan, I heard a child crying. I passed by this old bungalow and heard what seemed to be a vague scampering of a child, reminding me of rats scrabbling against my room's walls during midnight.

I slept 6am today. I should have easily wallowed in dreams (or nightmares for that matter) around 2am, but I failed to put my mobile in silent mode, thus, late text messages from friends for this year of the monkey have unwittingly permitted me to stay up all midnight and read "Divination," a short story by Adam Haslett. Oddly enough, I received during the witching hour (3am) a message from who I surmise is Nova, extending her gratitude for our "pakikiramay" during the bellowing event of her mom's death. The story, however, frightened me a lot. It's about death, and I daresay a terrible profound death, that I wish not to behold any family member of mine, or my own life for that matter. Hence, I shifted to Gerda Lerner's essay "The Creation of Patriarchy" to somehow let the "bad spirit" dissipate from my room.

I must now return to my premise -- why I'm childish. 2004, the year of the trickster monkey, has permitted me to release my supposed long-gone childishness. How I disdain myself for being easily affected by petty bickerings, by dull introspections, and by foolish notions of conviviality. Nevertheless, what I am here for but to be a punching bag, an emotional trashbin, a perfect excuse for ulterior motives.

Happy new year! How I love to hate myself. No regrets now, they won't hurt.

jan.1,2004. 7:49pm. Dapitan Internet Shop.

2003-12-30T19:55:00.000+08:00

I can't stay in one place. I've been saying this since I decided to make it my life-long mantra.

I left home 40 minutes ago, and now I'm wasting my time away in this Internet Shop in Dapitan where I usually hangout to regain my sanity. Five minutes is too long for me to stay in my room. Recently, I have discovered that my room has eyes, and they always give me that queer look as if taunting me while haunting me all the same. Nevertheless, I have to go back to that room. Most of my books are sprawled over there, and my wooden and ceramic cat figurines, and my clothes, and my computer, and, and, and everything else that the material world has accorded me.

Ian McEwan is my new ficitionist-god. He has dislodged Sandra Cisneros and Adam Haslett. McEwan makes me wanna kill myself for not reading him during my younger years. I would have decided early on to be a fictionist and not the self-proclaimed hungry young poet that I am. Ian makes me wanna cry each time I read or continue reading a story of his. His "Solid Geometry" is perfect for me, though I have issues about it's being, ummm, for lack of a better term, an "appendage of patriarchy." Nonetheless, I appreciate how it tackles romantic relationships, marriages to be exact. And how exacting is it? Well, it just strengthened my stance not to get married at all. According to Paul Virilio, a lot of what we've become today is primarily due to social constructionism. To take his word, families are "integral accidents." I asserted that in a lecture I had at UPLB, where, to say the least, I found people stare at me with a denigrating eye -- at least the "moralistic and conservative" ones.

To attribute everything to accidents is, hehehe, whimsically metaphysical. That's why the operative term is "integral," in that we, I for one, did not choose our biological families. We were born into it, needless to say. But of course, there's always room for resistance. You can leave it anytime you want, anytime you're prepared.

My father drank last night, and the night before, and the nights before. It just inflames me, makes me not want to drink alcohol anymore. After the successful eye operation, my dad seems to abandon his other illnesses, alta presyon to cite one. Well, among others, I am inclined to dislike him again not because I am moral, but because his health is at stake. And, I don't want to be forever consigned to take of the elderly, and a sick (unhealthy) one for that matter.

The kids here are playing role-playing computer games. The violents shots transmute to the kids' shoutings, yellings, yoddlings, and it just makes me want to get the hell out of this hustling-bustling internet shop. But I don't want to go back to my house yet. The house reminds me how sick my father is, even with the Christmas lights on, mimicking the stars.

Dec. 30, 2003. 8:19pm. Dapitan Internet Shop.

2003-12-29T20:31:00.000+08:00

I got home 9am from Tanauan, Batangas. My friend Nova's mom died December 26. As soon as i got home, I sprawled my body all over my bed and slept 'til 6pm. I got up, ate embotido and fruit salad, and thought about a 14-year old kid I saw at Nova's mom's wake.

I replied to text messages that inflamed my cellphone. I visited two blogs by my friends, and how I envy them for having perfect blogskins, I guess. Damn, I can't even attach a link to this stupid blog. Well, it says a lot about how perfectfly incapable I am.

The weather is so goddamn cold. But it's better than the sweltering heat and the opium-like rain. It makes me want to wag-the-dog.

2003-12-27T22:25:00.000+08:00

I got a new Friendster testimonial from Kimneps. Thank you. She's right. I did sell bras and panties when I was in high school. My mom had a RTW shop in a public market in Frisco, and I took turns with her selling clothes, briefs, and of course, bras and panties.

Naaalala ko pa dati, may mga tumitingin ng bra. At nang ako ang humarap para asikasuhin sila, nagtawanan ang mga ito at nahiyang umalis. Ayaw na ako ang magbenta sa kanila. Naisip ko noon, hehehe, maganda pa naman yung isa, nahihiya dahil... Ano sa tingin n 'yo ang naisip ko ng mga panahong iyon? :)

2003-12-26T02:34:00.000+08:00

Butterfly,

Sa totoo lang, lumulutang ang isip ko. Itinatayp ko lang kung anong unang sumagi sa isip ko. Pasensiya ka na, pero bigla akong nalungkot. Nalungkot ako sa email mo, sa di ko mawaring dahilan. Siguro, namimiss lang kita Butterfly. Sa totoo, alam ko naman kung bakit malungkot ako. Dahil ito sa punyetang lovelife ko, na sa di ko mawaring dahilan ay lagi na lang akong inaabutan ng malas. Umiibig ako sa isang mayroon nang karelasyon, at may tumutugtog na kanta rito sa internet shop, ang "Sway" ng isang babaeng foreign artist. Luma na ang kanta, ang MTV pa nga nito ay nagpapakita ng isang babaeng naglalakad sa isang First World street habang umuulan ng niyebe. Parang niyebe siguro riyan sa Korea.

Sa ngayon, gusto ko ring makakita ng tunay na niyebe. Pero andito ako sa Pilipinas, at may pakiramdam ako na lulumutin na lamang ako dito at kakainin ng lupa pagdating ng nalalapit na pagkakataon. Sa totoo lang, parang walang nangyayari sa buhay ko. Hindi ko alam kung biglang naging depressant ang kape sa akin. Isang white mocha (tall) ang tinakeout ko sa Starbucks Timog Avenue. Naubos ko na ito.

Tinitingnan ko ang mga daliri ko ngayon, habang sinisipat ang mga tiklado ng keyboard. At napansin kong tila humaba ang mga hibla ng balahibo sa kamay ko. At parang lumalaki ang limang brown na nunal sa kaliwang kamay ko. At mahaba ang aking mga kuko.

At wala kaming nailcutter sa bahay.

Mitolohiya
26 Disyembre 2003. 2:20madaling araw. Internet shop sa Philcoa

2003-12-23T23:15:00.000+08:00

Nabubuwisit ako sa putang inang blog na 'to. andaming kaepalan at kaputahang kamaliang di ko makontrol. putang ina, para palang utak ko tong blog na to.

2003-12-23T22:17:00.000+08:00

I'm still up. It's six a.m., and I hear the jeepneys screaming their lungs out, probably calling to me to go home now. I'm four flights from the Vinzons Hill, sitting in a cranky swivle in this all too familiar but alienating Ivory Tower of the Philippine Collegian.

No matter what I do, all I think about is you. And the song has caused me to hum incessantly. But the sobbing from someone with whom I talked over the cellular phone a few hours ago nodges stronger, drowning my internal humming (rumbling?). So long, farewell, for now. The most deceptive of sins is falling in love with a someone who's inlove with someone else.

I have smoked more than half of Caloi's pack of Winston Lights. Where is the weed when I needed it most?! I'm sleepy. Sing me a love song, drop me a line. I know it's just a point of view, but you tell me I'm doing fine. Thank you Robbie Williams for kicking my ass!

2003-12-23T04:30:00.000+08:00

How's it gonna be?

2003-12-23T04:11:00.000+08:00

Shhhhhhhhheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeettttttttttttttt!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2003-12-20T03:22:00.000+08:00

SULAT SA KAIBIGANG NASA KOREA

Disyembre 18, 2003
11:38pm (sabi ng kompyuter)
Silid, Iba, Quezon City

Butterfly,

Una sa lahat, natutuwa akong mabanaagan ang impit na kaligayahan sa iyong huling liham (o mas akmang tagurian ring travelogue. Ayan, may pantapat na ang Filipino Department kay Cristina Pantoja-Hidalgo.) Sinabi kong impit dahil hindi naghuhumiyaw ang kasiyahan sa sulat mo. Nahihibo lamang ito mula sa pagbili mo ng bagong “fashion” na ilulukob pansamantala sa sariling katawan, sa pakikipagpalagayan mo ng loob kay Mr. Lee, sa kuwento mo hinggil kay “Rezin,” at sa pamamasyal mo sa mga scenic/tourist spot diyan. Kulang na nga lang ay birtwal na mukha’t boses mo na magsasalaysay ng iyong sari-saring “pamimidal.”

Sarili kong konjugasyon (o korupsyon?) ng salitang “pidal” ang “pamimidal.” Pidal yung pinapadyakan para umandar ang bisikleta. Naisip kong “pamimidal” ang gawing kolektibong pamagat ng mga “pagtatangka” kong magsulat ng “kuwento (kung kuwento mang maituturing ang mga iyon)” dahil isa ang pagbibisikleta sa pinakamemorableng yugto sa pagiging bata ko. Kapag nililingon ko ang nakaraan, laging bumabalik sa akin ang alaala ng pulang bisikleta ko na may balancer pa, pati lahat ng mga nasakyan kong bisikleta – sa kalye namin, sa mga karatig-kalye, sa Philcite (sa CCP grounds) – at sa lahat ng naratibong ininugan ng aking pamimidal.

Sabi ni Michel Focault, “trope” ang tawag sa sentral na imaheng iniinugan ng isang tao, depende sa kung paano siya “iniakda” ng lipunan, sabi naman ni Roland Barthes. Pamimidal ang trope ko sa ngayon, dahil ang pagsusulat, para sa akin, at para sa marami sa atin, ay paglalakbay, pagbibisikleta, pagtakbo, pagtatamo ng galos, at marami pang ibang karahasan at kapayapaan ng pagparito’t paroon.

Naiisip ko ngayon ang mga tsokolateng kinain ko kahapon. Sobrang dami, sinabayan ko pa ng inom ng dalandan juice. At kanina, nang magising ako ng tanghali, nagrebolusyon ang lahat ng kinain ko sa loob ng tiyan, matapos silang maglakbay mula sa mga plastik na pinagbalutan nila, papasok sa aking esophagus, pagtihaya nito sa tiyan ko, at ang dulo lang ng lahat ng kanilang paglalakbay ay ang mai-ire ko sila sa inidoro.

At doon sa inidoro, magsisimula na naman silang maglakbay.

Para ko na ring sinabing “tae” lang tayo ng lipunan, ano? Hindi, mas dapat kong sabihin na tae tayo ng lipunan. Walang “lang.” Sapagkat ang maging isang tae ay nangangahulugan na tayo ay iniakda nga ng ating lipunan at mundo.

At ikaw, ikaw ang pinakaglamorosong tae ngayon riyan sa Korea, di ba? J

Hinggil sa trabaho. Iniisip ko na ang trabaho mo: kung hindi English tutor ay Singer. Kung hindi singer ay Baby-sitter. Ako naman ay nanggaling kanina sa De La Salle Press. Pinirmahan ko na ang kontrata ko: P5,000 kada buwan para sa 20.75 oras kada linggo. Part-time editorial assistant ako, tatlong beses sa isang linggo lamang akong magrereport sa opisina para pakinggan ang metalikong hiyawan ng mga makina, at pahi-pahinang tsismisan ng mga papel.

Iniimbitahan kitang bisitahin ang aking webpage – “blog” ang tawag: www.catukayo.blogspot.com. Doon mo mababasa, bukod sa ating regular na paghuhuntahan sa email, ang mahahalaga at di-mahahalagang pangyayari sa buhay ng isang bumubuo ng Mitolohiya.

Isang-kapat na lamang ang natitirang tubig sa aking baso. Nagbabadya na ito na magparaya na ako sa aking kama upang dalawin ng diyos ng panaginip. Mananaginip ako ng bisikleta – pamimidal habang umuulan ng dahon.

Hanggang sa muli,
Mitolohiya
Disyembre 19, 2003
12:06am (sabi pa rin ng kompyuter)

2003-12-19T14:21:00.000+08:00

E-mail ko sa e-mail ng isang dating estudyante ko:

Dear r______,

ngayon lang uli ako nagchek ng email, december 18. alas diyes na ng gabi at natigalgal ako sa sulat mo. sa totoo lang, nanghina ako sa liham mo, kasi napakadiretso, napakatotoo ng naratibo -- na para bang nagbabasa ako ng isang nobelang drama. sa totoo lang, dumaan rin ako sa ganyang sitwasyon sa sarili kong pamilya.

iyan na ata talaga ang tinatawag na sakit ng patriyarkiya sa lipunan. naaalala mo pa ba yung discussion natin sa Hum1 tungkol sa collective unconscious? hindi lang sa yo nangyari/nangyayari ang ganyang problema. maging sa mga naging guro mo, tulad ko. yung tatay ko, may babae siya rati, kaya nga ako nagkaroon ng tatlo pang kapatid sa labas. at ang alam ko noon, handa na kaming iwan ng tatay ko para sa bago niyang pamilya. bumili pa nga siya ng bahay at lupa para sa bago niyang pamilya, habang kami naman sa pamilya ay kailangang huminto sa pag-aaral. naaalala ko pa nga dati na pinaghahatian naming anim na miyembro ng pamilya ang isang piniritong itlog para sa hapunan.

hindi naman adik yung tatay ko, pero adik rin siyang maituturing dahil yosi-kadiri siya at sobrang lasenggero. kaya nga ngayon, hindi niya kami mapigil ng mga kapatid ko (lalaki kaming lahat) na magyosi at tumoma. parang wala siyang moral ascendancy.

nung isang araw lang ay nagsimula na namang uminom ang tatay ko. bawal na sa kaniya iyon dahil bukod sa matanda na siya ay may alta presyon siya. matagal na ring di umiinom ng alak ang tatay ko, dahil naghahanda siya para sa operasyon niya sa mata. kaya nang maging matagumpay ang eye operation niya last month, heto't nung isang araw ay nagsimula na naman siyang uminom. ang pinakagustong gawin ng tatay ko ang pinakaayaw kong ginagawa niya. kaya kanina nung dumating ako sa bahay at umiinom na naman siya ay pinagsabihan ko siya. ayaw na ayaw niya sa lahat ang pinagsasabihan.

naisip ko lang yung sinabi mo: na gusto mo na lang unawain ang tatay mo. ganun rin ako dati, at madalas hanggang ngayon. na hinahayaan ko na lang siya para di kami mag-away. pero darating talaga ang panahon na mauubusan ka na ng pasensiya, na yung pagra-rationalize natin sa pagmamahal sa mga magulang at sa pamilya sa kabuuan ay nauupos din tulad ng sigarilyo. kaya nga siguro nagawa mong tutukan yung sarili mo, dahil na rin sa di maampat na bugso ng damdamin.

sa tingin ko, tama lang yung ginawa mo. umaasa ako na mababatukan ng katotohanan ang mga magulang mo, laluna yung tatay mo. sa totoo lang, galit ako sa mga tatay na pasaway, naiinis ako sa kanila, na kahit pa sabihing mahal ko sila at di dapat nilalapastangan ay lalong umiigting sa akin na bahagi iyon ng isang pyudal na kultura. tama lang na magsalita ka, laluna't alam mong nasa tama ka at para sa kabutihan ng mas nakararami ang magsalita.

siguro, sa puntong ito, gusto ko lang sabihin na humahanga ako sa katapangan mo. at tulad ng anumang unos, mararausan mo rin, malalagpasan tulad ng iba pang mabibigat na bagahe sa buhay. salamat sa iyong pagtitiwala sa akin, sa yong pagbabahagi ng isang internal at integral na bahagi ng iyong kaakuhan.

yung pasko, para naman talaga yan sa lahat, kahit sa mga di naniniwala sa diyos (tulad ko). dahil matindi ang impluwensiya sa atin ng katolisismo, yung mga bagay na ipinagdiriwan nila ay ipinagdiriwan na rin natin, hanggang sa maging bahagi na tayo ng kanilang sistema. at kahit na hindi na ako naniniwala sa diyos, hindi ko maitatanggi na gusto ko pa ring ipagdiwang ang pasko, pero hindi dahil kapanganakan iyon ni Hesus, kundi dahil parang nagiging mabait ang halos lahat ng tao. parang gusto ko ngang maging pulubi kapag pasko para magkalaman ang bulsa ko kahit barya man lang (pinatatawa lang kita).

at ngayon, magpapasko na nga, puwede tayong humiling ng kahit na ano -- na sa aktwal ay maaaring sa araw-araw na buhay ay siya ring hinihilnig natin. parang paghihintay ng bulalakaw sa gabi-gabing pagbababad sa kalsada o kaya sa tabing-dagat. basta ngayong pasko, may dagdag akong hiling -- ang kapanatagan ng isip at damdamin mo.

isang text lang ang pagitan natin, o isang email lang. laging bukas ang pintuan ko.

ingat,
mykel