i am only half nuts
When I got my pay the other day, or rather, the news that we already have pay, I found myself on a jeepney headed to Harrison Plaza to do the groceries. Knowing the impulsive buyer I really am I visited a few other stores, aside from Shopwise – the only place I initially promised myself to go to. I went to SM Department Store to obtain a can of hairspray (much to my – and everyone’s surprise – it is actually more consuming to maintain a short do. My theory proves true that beauty is innate but it is the upkeep that’s uber expensive). Then of course I went to National Bookstore (Ang Bookstore ng Bayan – or is that a slogan for a different store?!) I was scouring the shelves (or what seemed like the corners of the universe) for a copy of Zafra’s latest book. I am not sure why it took me a while, maybe there is something wrong with my vision, or maybe the brightly colored book covers dealing with self-help and healing got in the way of things. After a few minutes, I stumbled upon this black little book Zafra named Twisted 8 ½.
It has been two years since she last published a collection of her articles so finding something like 8 ½ can pretty much be compared to seeing a jewel in a septic tank.
So this morning, I resolved to read the book even before I cover it with plastic. I started with my ritual. I made a cup of coffee, took the cup to my bedroom, looked at the book. I have never felt this happy in a long while. Then I opened the book, placed my bookplate on the upper right hand corner of the first page just so that it’s clear – that it belongs to me. Eheheh.
I smelled the pages РI have this penchant for smelling paper Рmagazines, newspapers, books most specially. My favorite hangout growing up was the National Library in Kalaw, Manila. My best friend Monette could attest to that. We spent countless hours working on our science project or just musing on our naivet̩ when it came to love. I am drawn to the scent of antiquity, to the scent of learning, to the scent of dust (if there is such a thing eheh). My room is beginning to smell like a library, as a matter of fact. I have more books than clothes.
It has been two years since she last published a collection of her articles so finding something like 8 ½ can pretty much be compared to seeing a jewel in a septic tank.
So this morning, I resolved to read the book even before I cover it with plastic. I started with my ritual. I made a cup of coffee, took the cup to my bedroom, looked at the book. I have never felt this happy in a long while. Then I opened the book, placed my bookplate on the upper right hand corner of the first page just so that it’s clear – that it belongs to me. Eheheh.
I smelled the pages РI have this penchant for smelling paper Рmagazines, newspapers, books most specially. My favorite hangout growing up was the National Library in Kalaw, Manila. My best friend Monette could attest to that. We spent countless hours working on our science project or just musing on our naivet̩ when it came to love. I am drawn to the scent of antiquity, to the scent of learning, to the scent of dust (if there is such a thing eheh). My room is beginning to smell like a library, as a matter of fact. I have more books than clothes.
a stack of zafra books sitting on my study table.
When I started to read, I made sure that I have proper lighting. I want to comprehend everything I’d read and though I have 20-20 vision and I can read with the lights dim, I truly want to enjoy Zafra’s new book. The book is nothing short of surprising – the author’s impeccable humor is there, her wit and intelligence all over, the occasional bashing is there too – all of which have become her trademark.
I was on the edge of my mom’s bed, where the natural light falls delicately on the text that I am reading, it is also a spot that would prevent my neighbors from seeing me looking like I just got out of the bed (which is the case). After 50 or so pages, I had to stop reading, momentarily. I had to empty my bladder. My body was screaming ‘water!!!’ so I had to listen to it and rush to the loo.
Jessica ranted about how technology, machines, advancements has taken our species hostage, how it is almost impossible to do anything now without the aid of a computer, a cellphone, or the world wide web. I could not agree more. I am blogging using my phone, which I named Baroness Lucia. Yes, I am identifying my phone as a female and she’s rich. Well, not all those who are born to or have acquired royalty are rich…maybe that’s a good subject for my next blog.
The book is composed of 30 (or less) articles and I’ve enjoyed all one hundred something pages of it. I grew up reading Zafra – Jessica, if you’ll ever read this post, know that it is not my intention to make it sound like you are way older than the rest of us. If you’ll ask me, you’re a cougar and there is no need to spark an argument about why I think you are. I will be happy to be your serf and make coffee for you. I first read her book ‘Mananaggal…’ when I was in high school. The copy wasn’t mine, but from then on vowed to secure a copy of all the books she ever published. With the addition of Twisted 8 1/2, all her 16 books now occupy a part of my shelf. Nice.
twisted eight and a half
I encountered her twice – once, at a book fair in Instituto Cervantes where she signed all 3 copies of ‘Womenagerie’ I bought for myself, Nosh and Jerlen. The second encounter was more fleeting – Nosh and I were strolling in Greenbelt 1 and were actually in the midst of an argument when a wormhole cracked open and lodged Jessica in front of me. No, that wasn’t what really happened but the experience felt like that. She walked past me and I was in catatonic shock right after. Nosh and I forgot that we were fighting and spent the next 15 minutes celebrating the fact that we were breathing the same air with Jessica for a nanosecond.
Jessica is the kind of writer who makes me want to aspire for greater, bigger things – publish a book, write prose, live on writing or at least do something I am passionate about for the rest of my life and…pet cats. The last detail cannot be done without a biohazard suit, so until I get one, it probably won’t happen.
faithful
a hymn to the faithful ~
as you tread the path bruising your feet and
scarring your wings, the mystery unfolds while
the daunting dissonance disappears in your flight
into the air, shaken and shackled by your suffering,
warily finding your way through the brambles and brush
the unforeseen and unchanging muse that blossom
within you condemned to the agelessness of
time, this soul caught in the web of your fleeting, agile,
yellow shadow ~ naked, undisguised, unguarded
your hands execute a revolution of galaxies
famished for no reason, my words halted by the delicate
moonglow adoring what used to be mine,
far and low in the twilight, descending into your architecture.
as you tread the path bruising your feet and
scarring your wings, the mystery unfolds while
the daunting dissonance disappears in your flight
into the air, shaken and shackled by your suffering,
warily finding your way through the brambles and brush
the unforeseen and unchanging muse that blossom
within you condemned to the agelessness of
time, this soul caught in the web of your fleeting, agile,
yellow shadow ~ naked, undisguised, unguarded
your hands execute a revolution of galaxies
famished for no reason, my words halted by the delicate
moonglow adoring what used to be mine,
far and low in the twilight, descending into your architecture.
love
awakened by your voice, your touch that resemble
water, this song uttered in lonesomeness, sighed
when all is silent and the echo of your heart beat
battles the unraveling, seductive fire
that belongs to your light, enclosing the sudden and
fragile glance that bends frail reveries,
solemn nights crashing with thoughts of you
chasing the lost, languishing, leaning
scent of this burning under stones and secrets
parting the withering, infallible trace of white
my parched, starved memory keeps
to breathe you in each time i surrender to the clasping grace
of a moonlit banquet ~ your lips, your face, your hands
my body rests in fragments wanting all of you.
water, this song uttered in lonesomeness, sighed
when all is silent and the echo of your heart beat
battles the unraveling, seductive fire
that belongs to your light, enclosing the sudden and
fragile glance that bends frail reveries,
solemn nights crashing with thoughts of you
chasing the lost, languishing, leaning
scent of this burning under stones and secrets
parting the withering, infallible trace of white
my parched, starved memory keeps
to breathe you in each time i surrender to the clasping grace
of a moonlit banquet ~ your lips, your face, your hands
my body rests in fragments wanting all of you.
the heart seeks
often the heart seeks what it cannot fathom,
lamenting over the flesh
it can neither touch nor taste,
reaching for the luminous
color so soon forgotten,
trembling in the memory
of never questioning why
our galaxies collide
or why
my satellite oscillates
around your planet
gathering a new meaning
for a love that travels
faster than the speed of light.
lamenting over the flesh
it can neither touch nor taste,
reaching for the luminous
color so soon forgotten,
trembling in the memory
of never questioning why
our galaxies collide
or why
my satellite oscillates
around your planet
gathering a new meaning
for a love that travels
faster than the speed of light.
defining exactly this
tortured by the
unforgiving language
of your abstruse
ache heaping the
minute, miserable
moments
defining exactly
this
beguiled by the
spectacle of windows
raging above
doors and seasons
that lead to drought
and the denial of
a hunger
too strong to contain
crashing against
the blue light of
your famished
clouds.
for calliope
unforgiving language
of your abstruse
ache heaping the
minute, miserable
moments
defining exactly
this
beguiled by the
spectacle of windows
raging above
doors and seasons
that lead to drought
and the denial of
a hunger
too strong to contain
crashing against
the blue light of
your famished
clouds.
for calliope
feast
poignant, incisive, penetrating
bitter, wounding, stimulating
all mean the same thing,
the acrid, sour, acidic
grin on your poker face
on your blazing, oscillating
ignorance,
an atmosphere of tastelessness
a feast of tragedy
a slave with no
place, a moon with
no dreams, a sonnet
with no understanding,
an elegy with
no future.
bitter, wounding, stimulating
all mean the same thing,
the acrid, sour, acidic
grin on your poker face
on your blazing, oscillating
ignorance,
an atmosphere of tastelessness
a feast of tragedy
a slave with no
place, a moon with
no dreams, a sonnet
with no understanding,
an elegy with
no future.
beckoned
by the ceaseless, irrepressible
want for you to be
closer to me than
you were before
the clouds shift and
move to cover
your lonesome, captivating
sweetness
struck by your revenge,
and arrested by your
ardent, burning eyes
i am left with the thought,
the strand, the piece
of reverie that describes
you taking me
this time.
for calliope
want for you to be
closer to me than
you were before
the clouds shift and
move to cover
your lonesome, captivating
sweetness
struck by your revenge,
and arrested by your
ardent, burning eyes
i am left with the thought,
the strand, the piece
of reverie that describes
you taking me
this time.
for calliope
exhale
escaping the certainty
of this fall, this
descent, this one particular
moment -
to look, feel, aspire
and desire
your awkward, beautiful
simplicity, the manner
in which your hands
reach for the cigarette
and your lips breathe
the smoke out -
to be ravaged by your
words and linger in
this certain fall, descent,
plunge and exhale.
of this fall, this
descent, this one particular
moment -
to look, feel, aspire
and desire
your awkward, beautiful
simplicity, the manner
in which your hands
reach for the cigarette
and your lips breathe
the smoke out -
to be ravaged by your
words and linger in
this certain fall, descent,
plunge and exhale.
scintilla
a ravenous, listless,
motionless desire
seeps and eats me
alive
the distance sustain
my longing
and the air between
us leeps me
wondering
of the nights i
could finally
hold your face
and touch your
cheeks
allowing for the
scintilla of chance
to take me and
enfold me
one more time,
tasting the sinless
bliss on your
lips.
motionless desire
seeps and eats me
alive
the distance sustain
my longing
and the air between
us leeps me
wondering
of the nights i
could finally
hold your face
and touch your
cheeks
allowing for the
scintilla of chance
to take me and
enfold me
one more time,
tasting the sinless
bliss on your
lips.
signs
absence
blank
spaces
rift
void
elegy
tears
pain
forgiveness
strength
sunlight
peace
blackness
absence.
blank
spaces
rift
void
elegy
tears
pain
forgiveness
strength
sunlight
peace
blackness
absence.
me
spiraling,
spinning,
staggering,
splitting
atoms and
fibers and
seconds and
moments
saving,
resurrecting,
reviving -
the waning,
dying,
falling,
disappearing
me.
spinning,
staggering,
splitting
atoms and
fibers and
seconds and
moments
saving,
resurrecting,
reviving -
the waning,
dying,
falling,
disappearing
me.
alphabet of eroticism
in the light of my thirteen-year friendship with monette, i would like to share this with all of you. i remember us meeting in starbucks in araneta coliseum one fateful day (which was march 26th 2006) to plan for the next tattoo we both will be getting (and that was the psalm 91 tatt). i am unsure if it was the caffeine or the excitement or the lack of sleep, for that matter, that paved way to this...whatever the reason was, we sure did enjoy being in each other's company that day, as we always have, until now.
A - afterglow
B - barenaked, bump
C - cramps, carnal
D - debauchery
E - erotic, exotic
F - fingers, fluids
G - g-spot
H - haywire, hump
I - intimacy
J - jackhammer
K - kama sutra, kinky, kiss
L - lust, lesbians, lingerie
M - marquis de sade, missionary, meat
N - nymphomania
O - orgasm
P - pleasure
Q - quivers
R - ravaging
S - seduction
T - temptation, touch
U - unveil, undress, uncover
V - vagina monologues
W - whisper
X - xerex (?)
Y - yearning
Z - zeal
this post isn't for the faint of heart or for those under 18. skip this post if you are underaged. ahaha.
A - afterglow
B - barenaked, bump
C - cramps, carnal
D - debauchery
E - erotic, exotic
F - fingers, fluids
G - g-spot
H - haywire, hump
I - intimacy
J - jackhammer
K - kama sutra, kinky, kiss
L - lust, lesbians, lingerie
M - marquis de sade, missionary, meat
N - nymphomania
O - orgasm
P - pleasure
Q - quivers
R - ravaging
S - seduction
T - temptation, touch
U - unveil, undress, uncover
V - vagina monologues
W - whisper
X - xerex (?)
Y - yearning
Z - zeal
this post isn't for the faint of heart or for those under 18. skip this post if you are underaged. ahaha.
after
more than a song or a sonnet, more than
a thought or a feeling, your silhouette
devours the calm, impenetrable delight of
this soul, seeking clandestinely shards of
days you intend to give with your hands
shedding the night once forlorn with
envy and loss, you face the sky and the rain
is suddenly haunted by a cadenza
formed by your obscured breath and sigh
this poet left with an elegy that
forbids other languages, the senselessness
of sleep in your wake arouse and amuse
my senses filled with the awkward,
unexpected pandemonium that comes
after loving you.
for calliope
a thought or a feeling, your silhouette
devours the calm, impenetrable delight of
this soul, seeking clandestinely shards of
days you intend to give with your hands
shedding the night once forlorn with
envy and loss, you face the sky and the rain
is suddenly haunted by a cadenza
formed by your obscured breath and sigh
this poet left with an elegy that
forbids other languages, the senselessness
of sleep in your wake arouse and amuse
my senses filled with the awkward,
unexpected pandemonium that comes
after loving you.
for calliope
question and answer portion
for those who really, truly know me...they know how much i love q and a's. i saw this list from a book called 'inspirability' by pash a couple of weeks ago at national bookstore in harrison plaza.
here's my take on it:
NAME: teresa salvador
HOMETOWN: pasay city, philippines
TURN ONS: intelligence and humor
TURN OFFS: body odor and insecurity
FAVORITE TOY AS A CHILD: my imagination
FAVORITE TOY NOW: my cellphone
LANGUAGES YOU SPEAK: filipino and
english
3 OF YOUR FAVORITE MOVIES: good will hunting, the silence of the lambs and malena
3 OF YOUR FAVORITE BOOKS: the alchemist by paulo coelho; cien sonetos de amor by pablo neruda; the catcher in the rye by j.d. salinger
IF YOU COULD HAVE ANY SUPER POWER, WHAT WOULD IT BE: mind reading
IF YOU'RE NOT IN THIS BUSINESS, WHAT WOULD YOU BE DOING: i'd be either a writer or a shrink
MOST INSPIRED STATEMENT, HEARD OR SAID: 'i shut my eyes in order to see' - paul gaugain
here's my take on it:
NAME: teresa salvador
HOMETOWN: pasay city, philippines
TURN ONS: intelligence and humor
TURN OFFS: body odor and insecurity
FAVORITE TOY AS A CHILD: my imagination
FAVORITE TOY NOW: my cellphone
LANGUAGES YOU SPEAK: filipino and
english
3 OF YOUR FAVORITE MOVIES: good will hunting, the silence of the lambs and malena
3 OF YOUR FAVORITE BOOKS: the alchemist by paulo coelho; cien sonetos de amor by pablo neruda; the catcher in the rye by j.d. salinger
IF YOU COULD HAVE ANY SUPER POWER, WHAT WOULD IT BE: mind reading
IF YOU'RE NOT IN THIS BUSINESS, WHAT WOULD YOU BE DOING: i'd be either a writer or a shrink
MOST INSPIRED STATEMENT, HEARD OR SAID: 'i shut my eyes in order to see' - paul gaugain
the joy of pain
last tuesday, december 8th, i finally saw my best friend since time immemorial - monette. nosh and i were supposed to meet her around 8am but my sleeping habits got in the way - i woke up inexcusably late. so we ended up having brunch instead of a decent breakfast. the funny thing about setting up a meet in starbucks paseo de roxas is that there are three starbucks branches in that stretch alone. so you can just guess the confusion and what ended up being a 15-minute wild goose chase.
after brunch, we hailed a cab and went straight to recto, manila. i don't even remember the last time i was in that place. not much has changed - there's still a lot of people, the pollution worsened (i think) and national bookstore in avenida is still alive! i like going to that place because you can really find a lot of good books there - which, for some reason, makes me think not a lot of people in that area likes to read.
anyway, the very reason we went there is because nosh and i have been itching to get a mandala etched on our back. it has been two years since nosh last had a tattoo and almost six months for me. and i tell you, nothing excites me more than the idea of paying someone to inflict pain on me (i don't care if that particular statement did not come out right. you are all free to take it any which way you want to ahaha).
we met ding fernandez, tattoo artist extraordinaire. he was highly recommended by monette (and has done three of her five tattoos) so i figured this is the best time to try the merchandise (the merchandise being kuya ding ahaha). the studio's squeaky clean. as someone who digs the art of tattooing, the very first thing i check is just how clean the place is. nothing to worry in that department, he's a member of philtag and has won numerous awards in various competitions including the most recent dutdutan festival.
before i sat down to get my tattoo, i had to kill the nerves and went down for a quick smoke - which translates to a cup of coke and three cigarettes. it is an odd and funny thing, to still feel the jitters each and everytime i get inked. i am not sure what that means.
when we went up, he has already prepared the machine and in five minutes time we started the session. the first sixty seconds is always tough. my phone wasn't cooperating with me so i really couldn't listen to my music using my earphones. kuya ding, monette and nosh had to endure listening to the carpenter's 'merry christmas darling' five or six times. after a few minutes, i couldn't feel anything on the right side of my body anymore and wasn't distracted by the humming of the tattoo machine. it meant one thing - i was free. free from nervousness, free from the daunting sound emanating from that machine, free from pain. i suddenly remembered a friend of mine asking me a few weeks back: 'why do you look forward to pain?' my only retort was: 'because it is real.'
my session lasted about an hour and ten or fifteen minutes while nosh' tattoo was done in a mere fourty-five. and that i think is totally unfair. ahaha. but the thing is, once you have started getting the tattoo, no matter how queasy or painful it gets, you don't want to be asking the artist to stop...because that would mean you'll just be prolonging your agony. so more than anything, if you are planning to get inked, the one thing you should have a lot of is courage, or strength of will. because once you are there, there is no going back.
for some twisted, weird reason i always feel 'different' - emerging from the whole ordeal. somehow i feel empowered and i feel like nothing can break me. nosh said i looked like i will break the jaw of the next person who'd mess with me - now that i have tattoos on both my shoulderblades.
aside from the sporadic lashing kuya ding got from me (i think i yelled 'that's my shoulderblade' more than twice at the onset of our session), i feel really happy about the outcome. when you get inked, you somehow surrender a huge part of you to the one who will brand you - there has to be trust, and that factor of the relationship cannot be breached.
kuya ding did a really nice job and though my wound hasn't fully healed, i am already thinking of this backpiece that i would like for him to do. on the other hand, before we left the shop, he quipped that it'd be nice if i'll get a sleeve.
hmmm...let's see about that.
*i will try to post the pictures we took of that day on my blog, if i don't succeed, you can always view them on my facebook.
after brunch, we hailed a cab and went straight to recto, manila. i don't even remember the last time i was in that place. not much has changed - there's still a lot of people, the pollution worsened (i think) and national bookstore in avenida is still alive! i like going to that place because you can really find a lot of good books there - which, for some reason, makes me think not a lot of people in that area likes to read.
anyway, the very reason we went there is because nosh and i have been itching to get a mandala etched on our back. it has been two years since nosh last had a tattoo and almost six months for me. and i tell you, nothing excites me more than the idea of paying someone to inflict pain on me (i don't care if that particular statement did not come out right. you are all free to take it any which way you want to ahaha).
we met ding fernandez, tattoo artist extraordinaire. he was highly recommended by monette (and has done three of her five tattoos) so i figured this is the best time to try the merchandise (the merchandise being kuya ding ahaha). the studio's squeaky clean. as someone who digs the art of tattooing, the very first thing i check is just how clean the place is. nothing to worry in that department, he's a member of philtag and has won numerous awards in various competitions including the most recent dutdutan festival.
before i sat down to get my tattoo, i had to kill the nerves and went down for a quick smoke - which translates to a cup of coke and three cigarettes. it is an odd and funny thing, to still feel the jitters each and everytime i get inked. i am not sure what that means.
when we went up, he has already prepared the machine and in five minutes time we started the session. the first sixty seconds is always tough. my phone wasn't cooperating with me so i really couldn't listen to my music using my earphones. kuya ding, monette and nosh had to endure listening to the carpenter's 'merry christmas darling' five or six times. after a few minutes, i couldn't feel anything on the right side of my body anymore and wasn't distracted by the humming of the tattoo machine. it meant one thing - i was free. free from nervousness, free from the daunting sound emanating from that machine, free from pain. i suddenly remembered a friend of mine asking me a few weeks back: 'why do you look forward to pain?' my only retort was: 'because it is real.'
my session lasted about an hour and ten or fifteen minutes while nosh' tattoo was done in a mere fourty-five. and that i think is totally unfair. ahaha. but the thing is, once you have started getting the tattoo, no matter how queasy or painful it gets, you don't want to be asking the artist to stop...because that would mean you'll just be prolonging your agony. so more than anything, if you are planning to get inked, the one thing you should have a lot of is courage, or strength of will. because once you are there, there is no going back.
for some twisted, weird reason i always feel 'different' - emerging from the whole ordeal. somehow i feel empowered and i feel like nothing can break me. nosh said i looked like i will break the jaw of the next person who'd mess with me - now that i have tattoos on both my shoulderblades.
aside from the sporadic lashing kuya ding got from me (i think i yelled 'that's my shoulderblade' more than twice at the onset of our session), i feel really happy about the outcome. when you get inked, you somehow surrender a huge part of you to the one who will brand you - there has to be trust, and that factor of the relationship cannot be breached.
kuya ding did a really nice job and though my wound hasn't fully healed, i am already thinking of this backpiece that i would like for him to do. on the other hand, before we left the shop, he quipped that it'd be nice if i'll get a sleeve.
hmmm...let's see about that.
*i will try to post the pictures we took of that day on my blog, if i don't succeed, you can always view them on my facebook.
overtake
here among the ruins of darkness
my unsteady hands revel the laughter
emerging from your lips and nothing
helps - save the insanity of being lost
in a moment with you - the ache, the thorn,
the dream, the hope and the light
that pursed itself within the naked hours
consumed by you - an unaltered muse
of silence and dust, my heart heaving with
desire to be ravaged and annihilated
over and over again, the night folds onto
a crescendo of tears and unspoken words
my heartbeat entombed, my blood pulsates
as the moon hides the gaze of clouds waving
in the distance - the long, lonely stretch
that covers now and today, you and me.
for calliope
my unsteady hands revel the laughter
emerging from your lips and nothing
helps - save the insanity of being lost
in a moment with you - the ache, the thorn,
the dream, the hope and the light
that pursed itself within the naked hours
consumed by you - an unaltered muse
of silence and dust, my heart heaving with
desire to be ravaged and annihilated
over and over again, the night folds onto
a crescendo of tears and unspoken words
my heartbeat entombed, my blood pulsates
as the moon hides the gaze of clouds waving
in the distance - the long, lonely stretch
that covers now and today, you and me.
for calliope
suns and stars
my soul falls silent, the depth of that
which i cannot fathom swallows me
this story taking its space in the
crowded chambers of remembering
the bittersweet hours i spent lying
in your arms
gazing at a shooting star in this
dense, dark, betraying night
mending the solace so i may find
you in it again
and offer you my heart,
precariously needing to be
the one that breathes for you in
this solitude
the one drenched by the stillness of
chasing your voice
long after you have uttered your
goodbye.
which i cannot fathom swallows me
this story taking its space in the
crowded chambers of remembering
the bittersweet hours i spent lying
in your arms
gazing at a shooting star in this
dense, dark, betraying night
mending the solace so i may find
you in it again
and offer you my heart,
precariously needing to be
the one that breathes for you in
this solitude
the one drenched by the stillness of
chasing your voice
long after you have uttered your
goodbye.
shut
this soul unravelling
the chaos brought by the
distance and the clouds
mystefied by the songs
you hum in the midst of
senselessness, yearning to be
the one you seek when
the night breaks and the
darkness wraps everything
in oblivion, aching to be
the electric blue that tremble
when you shut your eyes
to imagine serendipity.
the chaos brought by the
distance and the clouds
mystefied by the songs
you hum in the midst of
senselessness, yearning to be
the one you seek when
the night breaks and the
darkness wraps everything
in oblivion, aching to be
the electric blue that tremble
when you shut your eyes
to imagine serendipity.
dissecting femininity
last saturday morning, while batch 103, aena and myself pondered on how we can easily 'burn' all that we just ate for lunch, an interesting topic was brought up.
just how many kinds of women are there? this question urged us all to consider 'grouping' them. so the following categories were borne of that 'debate':
CERTIFIED - these are women who have proven their femininity by bearing children.
LEGIT - now we are talking about straight women.
NATURAL - this category pertain to people like myself...naturally a woman but is inclined to the same gender.
NATURALIZED - this refers to our brothers who sooner or later realized that they are men trapped in a woman's body. welcome to the pack!
thanks to faith - one of the coolest trainees i have ever met and now my friend - for this piece and for your wisdom and humor.
just how many kinds of women are there? this question urged us all to consider 'grouping' them. so the following categories were borne of that 'debate':
CERTIFIED - these are women who have proven their femininity by bearing children.
LEGIT - now we are talking about straight women.
NATURAL - this category pertain to people like myself...naturally a woman but is inclined to the same gender.
NATURALIZED - this refers to our brothers who sooner or later realized that they are men trapped in a woman's body. welcome to the pack!
thanks to faith - one of the coolest trainees i have ever met and now my friend - for this piece and for your wisdom and humor.
brambles
chastised to the brambles and thorns
that emerge from your timid stares
the bright, intense emeralds that
follow my shadow
shaken by your touch,
still as a stone
drenched by the waters of your
fragrance
lost and lonesome in the recollection
of how you uttered my name,
of winters and solitude
of searching and waiting.
that emerge from your timid stares
the bright, intense emeralds that
follow my shadow
shaken by your touch,
still as a stone
drenched by the waters of your
fragrance
lost and lonesome in the recollection
of how you uttered my name,
of winters and solitude
of searching and waiting.
petals
your hand the petals
of loneliness
borne or gravity and
distance
your gaze
magnify statues falling
silent as the dawn
hastens desolately
memory urges me to
forget seconds and spaces,
as wind and flame
devour images of you
drawn on arched,
hidden flowers that
exist in my dream.
of loneliness
borne or gravity and
distance
your gaze
magnify statues falling
silent as the dawn
hastens desolately
memory urges me to
forget seconds and spaces,
as wind and flame
devour images of you
drawn on arched,
hidden flowers that
exist in my dream.
muse
haunted by the opaque
shadow of your absence
the pain echoes, voicelessness
reverberates in nothingness
i ache for the windows
to open, for the scent
of your light
to drown the room
famished, halted, parched
restless like air
the roots of my desire
seeks a beginning
for these words to
praise your fire.
shadow of your absence
the pain echoes, voicelessness
reverberates in nothingness
i ache for the windows
to open, for the scent
of your light
to drown the room
famished, halted, parched
restless like air
the roots of my desire
seeks a beginning
for these words to
praise your fire.
leaving
the night arrives
treacherous and tarnished
with the unaltered
yearning for you ~
my Svengali captor
~ a temptress and a sleepwalker
urging, pushing, taking me
to the bounds of
reason and unreason,
fumbling, falling
deeper still,
a rush of blood in my veins
a high on the glistening
saccharine of your smile
awaiting the next darkness
to unfold.
treacherous and tarnished
with the unaltered
yearning for you ~
my Svengali captor
~ a temptress and a sleepwalker
urging, pushing, taking me
to the bounds of
reason and unreason,
fumbling, falling
deeper still,
a rush of blood in my veins
a high on the glistening
saccharine of your smile
awaiting the next darkness
to unfold.
you
calliope
lives
breathes
consumes
chases
the small, insignificant
dusts of my desire
resurrects
permeats
heightens
indulges
in the bright fragments
of stars racing in my memory
arrests
maims
distracts
hinders
my disbelief in truths
my doubt in things
coming to an end.
lives
breathes
consumes
chases
the small, insignificant
dusts of my desire
resurrects
permeats
heightens
indulges
in the bright fragments
of stars racing in my memory
arrests
maims
distracts
hinders
my disbelief in truths
my doubt in things
coming to an end.
roads
the landscape of your
soul is burdened
with mysteries and
untruths, a chasm
of wild, ravaging
simplicity - of your
stares that give
birth to fire
feeding on the intimacy
of motionless twilights,
left with infinities
smaller than the ones
that spring from
your lips,
the nagging, relentless,
somber days
without you,
impossibilities making me
linger still.
soul is burdened
with mysteries and
untruths, a chasm
of wild, ravaging
simplicity - of your
stares that give
birth to fire
feeding on the intimacy
of motionless twilights,
left with infinities
smaller than the ones
that spring from
your lips,
the nagging, relentless,
somber days
without you,
impossibilities making me
linger still.
consumed | poem twenty five
your bends of
thought,
the ‘while’ taking
too long,
apropos,
the innate sound
of a weakened silence
my words tremble
through the curves
of your mouth
as the cigarette
touches the uncanny
twists of your
bones,
the smoke and
light ascends,
the fragile
earth of my body
battered by
the unconsumed
ghosts that lay
hidden in my
wake,
my eyes circle the
inevitable,
the distant flower
of hurts and
misunderstood pain
accepting its fate,
spiraling to its
conclusion.
thought,
the ‘while’ taking
too long,
apropos,
the innate sound
of a weakened silence
my words tremble
through the curves
of your mouth
as the cigarette
touches the uncanny
twists of your
bones,
the smoke and
light ascends,
the fragile
earth of my body
battered by
the unconsumed
ghosts that lay
hidden in my
wake,
my eyes circle the
inevitable,
the distant flower
of hurts and
misunderstood pain
accepting its fate,
spiraling to its
conclusion.
consumed | poem twenty four
beneath the silken
night sky
the seconds expel
the lingering scent
of the silk
that covered your
nakedness,
mirroring your
shadow,
your uninterrupted,
bright and
furtive smile
pushes my soul
to collapse
like leaves descending
into the lips
of autumn,
the days change
in your skin,
earth and
rain
collides.
night sky
the seconds expel
the lingering scent
of the silk
that covered your
nakedness,
mirroring your
shadow,
your uninterrupted,
bright and
furtive smile
pushes my soul
to collapse
like leaves descending
into the lips
of autumn,
the days change
in your skin,
earth and
rain
collides.
consumed | poem twenty two
slipping into
disarray,
the raw and unforgiving
war breathes
into the mouth of
a phantom known
as my veins
the night looms
in perpetual
chaos,
of things i
need to unravel,
of truths i
need to unlearn
my mistakes laugh
as it stretches
far and wide,
the rough edges
of my body
takes the naked
battle to
survive against
desolation.
disarray,
the raw and unforgiving
war breathes
into the mouth of
a phantom known
as my veins
the night looms
in perpetual
chaos,
of things i
need to unravel,
of truths i
need to unlearn
my mistakes laugh
as it stretches
far and wide,
the rough edges
of my body
takes the naked
battle to
survive against
desolation.
consumed | poem twenty one
resurrecting the havoc
defeated by an
unlikely victory
summoning miracles
from the sky
that has plunged into
a dense space
of fractures and
dents
losing meaning
and running out
of words…
the illogical,
the unreasonable
daunting the
reason
for me
to begin.
defeated by an
unlikely victory
summoning miracles
from the sky
that has plunged into
a dense space
of fractures and
dents
losing meaning
and running out
of words…
the illogical,
the unreasonable
daunting the
reason
for me
to begin.
calliope in all things
words like delight and inevitable
circle my mind, the bends and curves
of my thought indulging in the
gentle sound of your name,
a sigh, a breath, a moment
a phantom, a ghost, a recollection
a banquet, a feast, an unnamed memory
embracing and fastening itself
to the sunrise that painfully dissolves
beneath clouds and hastening hours.
circle my mind, the bends and curves
of my thought indulging in the
gentle sound of your name,
a sigh, a breath, a moment
a phantom, a ghost, a recollection
a banquet, a feast, an unnamed memory
embracing and fastening itself
to the sunrise that painfully dissolves
beneath clouds and hastening hours.
so much for movie posters
my attempt to upload photos from my phone to my blog was useless...
i will see to it that they will be added within the day.
i will see to it that they will be added within the day.
of films and memories
i am killing time and i am here at national bookstore in shangri-la. i thought i would have absolutely nothing to do but then i saw this compilation of movie posters from the 50's to the 70's (by tony nourmand and graham marsh, published by evergreen) and thought to myself...this is the universe' attempt to keep me from getting bored. god knows what i'd do if i get bored to my skull.
anyway, i took a picture of some of the movies i have seen, of some movies that remind me of other more recent films and...some movie titles that made me laugh: (please check the next posts)
*disclaimer* to get a better view of the pictures you must do at least one of these two suggestions: (1) tilt your monitor or (2) tilt your head until you break your neck and ultimately damage your spine. in case you opt to do the latter, i will not be liable for broken bones. sorry i will try to take better pictures next time, i'm uploading from my phone. huhu
anyway, i took a picture of some of the movies i have seen, of some movies that remind me of other more recent films and...some movie titles that made me laugh: (please check the next posts)
*disclaimer* to get a better view of the pictures you must do at least one of these two suggestions: (1) tilt your monitor or (2) tilt your head until you break your neck and ultimately damage your spine. in case you opt to do the latter, i will not be liable for broken bones. sorry i will try to take better pictures next time, i'm uploading from my phone. huhu
twisted tales
i'm with my best erick at starbucks shangri-la right now, getting caffeinated. today marks the onset of starbucks' tradition - so basically for the next few weeks, i'll be forced to chug liter after liter of starbucks' christmas blends so i may get their 2010 limited edition planner - preferably with the help of friends ahaha.
so we started our coffee session with one question: is chivalry dead?
i was asking erick if i daunt men. well, i actually feel that there always seem to be an issue when i am seen with a girl at work but that never happened when they see me with a guy. i think it's because everyone knows that i am not really interested in men nyahaha.
so erick said even if he knows some guys who actually like me but i don't just daunt them, i strike fear in their hearts (so poetic, dofa, really nice).
speaking of men - we agreed that there isn't a guy on this earth who would want to rescue a damsel in distress. saving them was never part of the plan, however, getting into their pants is. tough but true. my doyen quipped that if his species will hear him talk like this he'd be excommunicated. i say he'd probably be stoned to death. thank god he did not exist in the era of the crusades.
who thought of chivalry? why would they call it chivalry when there's always a reason why they would rescue a damsel. and the three main reasons are: sex, money and power. and in that order.
take for example the fairy tales that we all grew up reading:
beauty and the beast - beast apparently took belle captive in the hopes that she would fall in love with him and ultimately break the curse. it is very obvious that beast wouldn't have wasted his precious time impressing the girl if he could do something all by himself to lift the curse. belle was really hot, but he just wanted to get in her pants.
snow white/cinderella/sleeping beauty - it wasn't fate that brought the princes and princesses together. it was testosterone. why would they want to battle evil stepmothers, witches or seven naughty dwarves (the bastardized version of snow white) if they know they can't score?
alladin - why else would alladin want to be with jasmine if not for her gold? i mean she probably smells like her pet tiger...and no sane guy would go for that.
i'll attempt to revisit other fairy tales - either through books or movies. but one thing is clear - the word chivalry was invented to prove how disillusioned women are - that there are 'nice' guys around. the word chivalry simply puts devious things in a positive light.
so we started our coffee session with one question: is chivalry dead?
i was asking erick if i daunt men. well, i actually feel that there always seem to be an issue when i am seen with a girl at work but that never happened when they see me with a guy. i think it's because everyone knows that i am not really interested in men nyahaha.
so erick said even if he knows some guys who actually like me but i don't just daunt them, i strike fear in their hearts (so poetic, dofa, really nice).
speaking of men - we agreed that there isn't a guy on this earth who would want to rescue a damsel in distress. saving them was never part of the plan, however, getting into their pants is. tough but true. my doyen quipped that if his species will hear him talk like this he'd be excommunicated. i say he'd probably be stoned to death. thank god he did not exist in the era of the crusades.
who thought of chivalry? why would they call it chivalry when there's always a reason why they would rescue a damsel. and the three main reasons are: sex, money and power. and in that order.
take for example the fairy tales that we all grew up reading:
beauty and the beast - beast apparently took belle captive in the hopes that she would fall in love with him and ultimately break the curse. it is very obvious that beast wouldn't have wasted his precious time impressing the girl if he could do something all by himself to lift the curse. belle was really hot, but he just wanted to get in her pants.
snow white/cinderella/sleeping beauty - it wasn't fate that brought the princes and princesses together. it was testosterone. why would they want to battle evil stepmothers, witches or seven naughty dwarves (the bastardized version of snow white) if they know they can't score?
alladin - why else would alladin want to be with jasmine if not for her gold? i mean she probably smells like her pet tiger...and no sane guy would go for that.
i'll attempt to revisit other fairy tales - either through books or movies. but one thing is clear - the word chivalry was invented to prove how disillusioned women are - that there are 'nice' guys around. the word chivalry simply puts devious things in a positive light.
not just sandwiches
early this afternoon, nosh and i went to glorietta (after my shift) to 'search' for a gift for my sister, whose birthday we celebrated yesterday. we went around for hours and hours but failed to 'secure' one before we felt the need to nourish our ourselves. and since we cannot seem to decide on what to eat, we went to the one place that offer variety...subway.
subway actually refers to an underground path but this subway is a haven for those who seeks the freedom to satiate their craving. as we walked in, we cannot help but feel that it is like walking into your own pantry - with only the best, freshest ingredients to make one hell of a good sandwich.
nosh picked the tuna sandwich while i devoured a steak and cheese sandwich. aside from the many fillings you can choose from, you also have the option to put them all in either italian, wheat, honey oats and parmesan oregano bread.
the tuna sandwich makes for a very light and healthy meal (despite it being served on a six-inch bread). nosh opted to have all the veggies (except jalapenos) and a drizzle of vinegrette. i took a bite and knew right on that she made an excellent choice.
i, on the other hand, am a true 'carnivore' by heart...so i went for the steak. i asked the sandwich guy to put only onions, tomatoes, pickles and (a lot) of jalapenos on the loaf. it was a treat for my palate! that particular sandwich goes well with barbecue sauce (in case anyone of you wanted to try). by the time i was done eating, i was perspiring and felt like i just gave all my taste buds a death sentence.
despite this, i didn't feel queasy at all - i was happy with what i ate and i can't wait to get myself a sub again.
subway actually refers to an underground path but this subway is a haven for those who seeks the freedom to satiate their craving. as we walked in, we cannot help but feel that it is like walking into your own pantry - with only the best, freshest ingredients to make one hell of a good sandwich.
nosh picked the tuna sandwich while i devoured a steak and cheese sandwich. aside from the many fillings you can choose from, you also have the option to put them all in either italian, wheat, honey oats and parmesan oregano bread.
the tuna sandwich makes for a very light and healthy meal (despite it being served on a six-inch bread). nosh opted to have all the veggies (except jalapenos) and a drizzle of vinegrette. i took a bite and knew right on that she made an excellent choice.
i, on the other hand, am a true 'carnivore' by heart...so i went for the steak. i asked the sandwich guy to put only onions, tomatoes, pickles and (a lot) of jalapenos on the loaf. it was a treat for my palate! that particular sandwich goes well with barbecue sauce (in case anyone of you wanted to try). by the time i was done eating, i was perspiring and felt like i just gave all my taste buds a death sentence.
despite this, i didn't feel queasy at all - i was happy with what i ate and i can't wait to get myself a sub again.
persian delight
nosh and i are at zaitoon right now. the surprising thing about my neighborhood is that it is a melting pot. the number of foreign nationals here increases every...i don't know...nanosecond.
zaitoon is a persian restaurant that sits comfortably right in the middle of leveriza street. we have always wanted to try their food but only found the time to do it tonight.
the restaurant offers a number of surprises: one, the kebab is really, really great. i actually think 'great' is an understatement. we just finished eating a wonderful dish which consist of heaping plate of jasmine rice, grilled tomatoes, hummus and beef/lamb kebab. two, the serving is so hefty that two people can share it...or you can choose to eat it alone if you are really famished. three, the staff is really nice - they are quick to attend to their customers' need and they know what each dish has in store for your curious palate. four, it's a cozy place - and with cozy i mean you get to nosh on your dinner peacefully without anybody attempting to bother you. being here transports you a different place - they have persian programs on the television. at first, the interior might confuse you as it calls to mind an amalgamation of old english, asian, industrial, fast-food set-up, but the authenticity of the persian atmosphere start to foam as mid-eastern patrons come in. fifth, according to nosh, if you are looking for a quick fix to alleviate your persian craving without having to spend so much, then zaitoon is the place you go to, however, if you want to try champion persian food, we suggest that you visit hossein's - they have three branches in metro manila (trinoma, makati avenue and serendra). lastly, i get free wi-fi ehehe.
we are having such a great time tonight and we are sure to come back here to taste the other dishes. one of the best things about zaitoon is that it's only about five minutes away from where i live.
i feel soooo full as i type this. i resolved to write on my blog because i can't seem to update my facebook shoutout.
i feel stuffed i bet i can be served for a thanksgiving dinner with cranberry sauce (that is if you are looking for a substitute for turkey) ahaha.
zaitoon is a persian restaurant that sits comfortably right in the middle of leveriza street. we have always wanted to try their food but only found the time to do it tonight.
the restaurant offers a number of surprises: one, the kebab is really, really great. i actually think 'great' is an understatement. we just finished eating a wonderful dish which consist of heaping plate of jasmine rice, grilled tomatoes, hummus and beef/lamb kebab. two, the serving is so hefty that two people can share it...or you can choose to eat it alone if you are really famished. three, the staff is really nice - they are quick to attend to their customers' need and they know what each dish has in store for your curious palate. four, it's a cozy place - and with cozy i mean you get to nosh on your dinner peacefully without anybody attempting to bother you. being here transports you a different place - they have persian programs on the television. at first, the interior might confuse you as it calls to mind an amalgamation of old english, asian, industrial, fast-food set-up, but the authenticity of the persian atmosphere start to foam as mid-eastern patrons come in. fifth, according to nosh, if you are looking for a quick fix to alleviate your persian craving without having to spend so much, then zaitoon is the place you go to, however, if you want to try champion persian food, we suggest that you visit hossein's - they have three branches in metro manila (trinoma, makati avenue and serendra). lastly, i get free wi-fi ehehe.
we are having such a great time tonight and we are sure to come back here to taste the other dishes. one of the best things about zaitoon is that it's only about five minutes away from where i live.
i feel soooo full as i type this. i resolved to write on my blog because i can't seem to update my facebook shoutout.
i feel stuffed i bet i can be served for a thanksgiving dinner with cranberry sauce (that is if you are looking for a substitute for turkey) ahaha.
my journey home
I am exhausted of the long journey home, but I will endure anything for you, beloved. I will patiently walk upon rubbles and stones, defeating time, and never letting it defeat me. I sometimes wonder – how long can I sustain this? How long can I last?
Each and every time I am trapped in that reminiscence, I remember your face, and I know that my capacity to withstand what we are bound to go through is not even a question.
I know that it is your love that has kept me, that has held me all these months. It is your light that lifts my soul from darkness, it is your laughter that cures me of my worries. My nights are not barren because I have you to dream about. My days mean so much now because I look forward to seeing your face and touching your skin again.
There are so many things in this life that I know I was able to overcome because you are there to fortify my belief – that something brighter, that something bigger awaits me. That all the sacrifices and all the things I have given and you have offered will fulfill its reason.
My journey home means walking on rubbles and stones, it means scarring my feet, it also means getting closer to my reason, to my happiness, to my life.
My journey home means finding the good in things. It means letting go of my imperfection and accepting that there are things that I cannot change. It means following the path of the one who means the world to me.
written may 21, 2008
consumed | poem eighteen
rekindling the fire
that ceased in
the quiet,
reminiscing my
emptied hands
discolored by
the fallen yearning
to hold you
and enfold you
inside my
sapphire light.
that ceased in
the quiet,
reminiscing my
emptied hands
discolored by
the fallen yearning
to hold you
and enfold you
inside my
sapphire light.
consumed | poem seventeen
the dissonance of
an improbable
delight
without feeling
or realizing the
twisted blackness
that race to
the halted speech
of my soul,
the broken language
of my heart.
an improbable
delight
without feeling
or realizing the
twisted blackness
that race to
the halted speech
of my soul,
the broken language
of my heart.
consumed | poem sixteen
the moments take and
hide you in vain
with my hands seizing
the implausible
smoke and water of
your soul
carrying the
dusts of an abiding
sunlight
to arrive and to leave
a place
bare of recollection.
hide you in vain
with my hands seizing
the implausible
smoke and water of
your soul
carrying the
dusts of an abiding
sunlight
to arrive and to leave
a place
bare of recollection.
consumed | poem fifteen
the fragrant path
that lead to you
as the autumn
ascends and burns
my desire, parches
my thirst
to find that
which is beyond
forgetting.
that lead to you
as the autumn
ascends and burns
my desire, parches
my thirst
to find that
which is beyond
forgetting.
consumed | poem fourteen
the tainted flavor
of your mouth
like a temporary
sun,
like an imaginary
flight to the
undying laughter
of lilies
bring me to the
surface of your
honey-colored skin.
of your mouth
like a temporary
sun,
like an imaginary
flight to the
undying laughter
of lilies
bring me to the
surface of your
honey-colored skin.
consumed | poem thirteen
of parted embraces
then parched flesh
the moment
shackles me as it
circles through
the dead prism
of water,
the intimate
farewell of
lovers whose
sanctity and ignorance
are lost
in the night
that defeated
their senses.
then parched flesh
the moment
shackles me as it
circles through
the dead prism
of water,
the intimate
farewell of
lovers whose
sanctity and ignorance
are lost
in the night
that defeated
their senses.
comsumed | poem twelve
above,
the mad, wretched
sky
spins and stops
to nothing but
that which
lies
below
the pendulum of
time
found in my
afflicted blood.
the mad, wretched
sky
spins and stops
to nothing but
that which
lies
below
the pendulum of
time
found in my
afflicted blood.
consumed | poem eleven
stone, silent,
clock ticking
immobile breathing,
stationary vision,
expected disaster,
arrested wreckage
of a cloud broken down
to fragments and
pieces of memory
floating in the
receding shores
of nothingness.
clock ticking
immobile breathing,
stationary vision,
expected disaster,
arrested wreckage
of a cloud broken down
to fragments and
pieces of memory
floating in the
receding shores
of nothingness.
consumed | poem ten
the tattered string,
the forsaken night
and the trembling
staccato of
ten thousand winters
that take me
to your altar,
abandoning all
understanding
of sorrow,
only to
levitate toward
a harder
mistake.
the forsaken night
and the trembling
staccato of
ten thousand winters
that take me
to your altar,
abandoning all
understanding
of sorrow,
only to
levitate toward
a harder
mistake.
endure
Last weekend, I spoke with one of my agents. He was asking for a change in schedule this Sunday as his parents are celebrating their 35th anniversary and will be renewing their vows.
I wanted to write something about it, I even placed a reminder on my datebook, but during my recent off, I did nothing but ‘try’ to write poems (the result? One sonnet. Not bad I suppose) and watch Ally McBeal. I think I am making the huge mistake of going over the series too fast – I know I will miss it when it all ends. I mean they have stopped airing the episodes maybe 6 or 7 years ago…just that it (Ally McBeal) really has always been one of my favorite shows.
During my two-day hiatus, I spent a good part of it in my bed. I ate in my bed, watched the TV lying on my bed, and when I got tired of watching and eating, I slept. That’s something that has not really happened in a while. I felt like a snail. But of course it is an entirely different thing if you will ask me to talk about what it is like to be given a shot of Benadryl on both arms (two weeks apart – last September, I was taken to the hospital twice, all because a sneaky little bed bug bit me which resulted to hives that made me look like I gained 5 pounds).
The last time I had a severe allergy attack, I did not bother to take Benadryl in capsule form, because it really won’t do a lot of good. So I went straight to the hospital and kept chanting: ‘Please give me a shot. Please give me MY shot.’ Ultimately, the nurse in the emergency room did, and before she stuck the needle in my arm she said: ‘I am sorry.’ I am unsure as to what that was for, maybe she was saying sorry because the fluid is a little dense and that means it would hurt (a lot) when I get the shot. Anyway, I did not bother to say anything back, and I just smiled at her as she gave me my personal version of Prozac. It made me happy, and I dozed off in less than five minutes. And felt more like a sloth in the hours that followed.
Anyway, going back to my agent’s parents. Something struck me. The idea of being with another person for no less than thirty-five years is a feat in itself – it’s the reality – there are bumps in the roads ahead and these roads actually fork…so to find the same person standing right there beside you…someone who actually wants to renew the vow of love with you…that is something.
The idea sort of made my romantic muscle flex involuntarily. There is something so…help me…I am trying to look for the best word to describe what it makes me feel…there is something just so bittersweet about it. And I mean it in a good way.
As I was saying, marriage does not guarantee anything. And I admire all those who do it for no other reason but love. This is just my opinion, by the way, but I don’t think anyone should marry for any other reason. It should always mean something more than signing above your name on a sheet of paper…or having the wedding of your dreams…or having a motif that’s in the season.
Again, there are bumps on the road and the same freakin road has forks. And you have to remember that when you commit your lifetime to another person, you will not be making the decisions all by yourself or for yourself alone. You have to take that person with you each and everytime you move forward. I think at one point I have written about this – that I don’t believe compatibility should be a requirement before you enter into a lifelong commitment. At least not an absolute compatibility. Because as you grow older, your views change, you (supposedly) mature, your outlook in life changes. Seasons change, so do people.
I have forgotten the title of the book and the guy who wrote it (which is odd – I have always thought of myself as an elephant, because of my good memory), well maybe I can get an exception today – the names escape me as of this moment. Basically, he said that ‘Compatibility is not a precondition for love. It is an achievement of love.’ And I resonate him. I don’t think that could have been said any other way.
To stay together, to stay with one person despite the occasional storms, despite the occasional verbal battles, to want to stay with that person because you feel the need to be there when the dust has settled, because you just love her so much, because you know you would rather brave the arguments than walk away…now that is the best part of loving.
Marriage does not guarantee happiness. However, it does guarantee there would always be someone there to fight with (ahaha). Most importantly, if you both are eager to make things work, it guarantees no loss. For how can you lose when you gain another person’s unconditional care and love to the extent that the same person lives inside of you and you within her?
I wanted to write something about it, I even placed a reminder on my datebook, but during my recent off, I did nothing but ‘try’ to write poems (the result? One sonnet. Not bad I suppose) and watch Ally McBeal. I think I am making the huge mistake of going over the series too fast – I know I will miss it when it all ends. I mean they have stopped airing the episodes maybe 6 or 7 years ago…just that it (Ally McBeal) really has always been one of my favorite shows.
During my two-day hiatus, I spent a good part of it in my bed. I ate in my bed, watched the TV lying on my bed, and when I got tired of watching and eating, I slept. That’s something that has not really happened in a while. I felt like a snail. But of course it is an entirely different thing if you will ask me to talk about what it is like to be given a shot of Benadryl on both arms (two weeks apart – last September, I was taken to the hospital twice, all because a sneaky little bed bug bit me which resulted to hives that made me look like I gained 5 pounds).
The last time I had a severe allergy attack, I did not bother to take Benadryl in capsule form, because it really won’t do a lot of good. So I went straight to the hospital and kept chanting: ‘Please give me a shot. Please give me MY shot.’ Ultimately, the nurse in the emergency room did, and before she stuck the needle in my arm she said: ‘I am sorry.’ I am unsure as to what that was for, maybe she was saying sorry because the fluid is a little dense and that means it would hurt (a lot) when I get the shot. Anyway, I did not bother to say anything back, and I just smiled at her as she gave me my personal version of Prozac. It made me happy, and I dozed off in less than five minutes. And felt more like a sloth in the hours that followed.
Anyway, going back to my agent’s parents. Something struck me. The idea of being with another person for no less than thirty-five years is a feat in itself – it’s the reality – there are bumps in the roads ahead and these roads actually fork…so to find the same person standing right there beside you…someone who actually wants to renew the vow of love with you…that is something.
The idea sort of made my romantic muscle flex involuntarily. There is something so…help me…I am trying to look for the best word to describe what it makes me feel…there is something just so bittersweet about it. And I mean it in a good way.
As I was saying, marriage does not guarantee anything. And I admire all those who do it for no other reason but love. This is just my opinion, by the way, but I don’t think anyone should marry for any other reason. It should always mean something more than signing above your name on a sheet of paper…or having the wedding of your dreams…or having a motif that’s in the season.
Again, there are bumps on the road and the same freakin road has forks. And you have to remember that when you commit your lifetime to another person, you will not be making the decisions all by yourself or for yourself alone. You have to take that person with you each and everytime you move forward. I think at one point I have written about this – that I don’t believe compatibility should be a requirement before you enter into a lifelong commitment. At least not an absolute compatibility. Because as you grow older, your views change, you (supposedly) mature, your outlook in life changes. Seasons change, so do people.
I have forgotten the title of the book and the guy who wrote it (which is odd – I have always thought of myself as an elephant, because of my good memory), well maybe I can get an exception today – the names escape me as of this moment. Basically, he said that ‘Compatibility is not a precondition for love. It is an achievement of love.’ And I resonate him. I don’t think that could have been said any other way.
To stay together, to stay with one person despite the occasional storms, despite the occasional verbal battles, to want to stay with that person because you feel the need to be there when the dust has settled, because you just love her so much, because you know you would rather brave the arguments than walk away…now that is the best part of loving.
To endure these things despite of the disagreements, to want to crawl back to her arms after each falling-out, to want to say sorry and mean it, to say ‘I love you’ and get a twinge in your heart each time you utter it because the feeling is just too real…these are what makes love the best elixir and poison.
Marriage does not guarantee happiness. However, it does guarantee there would always be someone there to fight with (ahaha). Most importantly, if you both are eager to make things work, it guarantees no loss. For how can you lose when you gain another person’s unconditional care and love to the extent that the same person lives inside of you and you within her?
consumed | poem nine
the scarlet luster
of your voice,
like a shot of espresso
from a dream
i am taken and
imprisoned to
an impossible
yearning to hear
you, with your
mouth a few
ages away from
my ears.
of your voice,
like a shot of espresso
from a dream
i am taken and
imprisoned to
an impossible
yearning to hear
you, with your
mouth a few
ages away from
my ears.
consumed | poem eight
fulfilling the
crystalline infinities,
life clasps and
cages my
wings but
never forgets
nor extinguishes
the chaos
i am
born
with.
crystalline infinities,
life clasps and
cages my
wings but
never forgets
nor extinguishes
the chaos
i am
born
with.
consumed | poem seven
the flimsy,
flailing,
banquet of
movements
unnecessary
dreams and
idle fantasies
humming in
the humdrum
disregard
to careless
desires.
flailing,
banquet of
movements
unnecessary
dreams and
idle fantasies
humming in
the humdrum
disregard
to careless
desires.
consumed | poem six
melancholy and
misbehavior
mistaken and
misunderstood
mindless,
ceaseless
pathetic
interpretation
and
indulgent
surrender
to the
design
of truth, and
its lies.
misbehavior
mistaken and
misunderstood
mindless,
ceaseless
pathetic
interpretation
and
indulgent
surrender
to the
design
of truth, and
its lies.
consumed | poem five
of misgivings and
faded mistakes
the distortion
continues and
blossom,
confusing and
unearthing
my lost and
fallen kingdom
of inertia.
faded mistakes
the distortion
continues and
blossom,
confusing and
unearthing
my lost and
fallen kingdom
of inertia.
consumed | poem one
pieces of a
lifetime
scattered and
taken by the
wind of your
name
to a land with
cloaked darkness
and emptied
embraces
all leading to
years of
uncertainty.
lifetime
scattered and
taken by the
wind of your
name
to a land with
cloaked darkness
and emptied
embraces
all leading to
years of
uncertainty.
ignite
my breath sinks
outside as
your pale hands
ignite the
fire
thousands
harvesting desire
allowing patience
to fill
the windows of
unending space
time dissolves
as you would
a rose in
sunlight
…to much sun
parches the
heart made of
nothing.
outside as
your pale hands
ignite the
fire
thousands
harvesting desire
allowing patience
to fill
the windows of
unending space
time dissolves
as you would
a rose in
sunlight
…to much sun
parches the
heart made of
nothing.
in the shadows
the image of
parting flesh and
wounded breathing
to rise above and
fall beyond
the impervious dissonance
of your moon
and my sigh,
the unborn
lightness of a
heart heavy with
fire, consumed
by desire
heedlessly wanting
the waning
sound of your
nails scratching
my back
and leaving
my skin with
marks of your
impenetrable
and ragged
embrace.
parting flesh and
wounded breathing
to rise above and
fall beyond
the impervious dissonance
of your moon
and my sigh,
the unborn
lightness of a
heart heavy with
fire, consumed
by desire
heedlessly wanting
the waning
sound of your
nails scratching
my back
and leaving
my skin with
marks of your
impenetrable
and ragged
embrace.
believe
that among the ruins
of the heavy rain
comes the absence
of pain
that in the midst
of disgrace and
misunderstood notions
of peace
i stand to hold
your hand and
with unswerving
faith to embrace
the mirrors of
your broken
soul
enkindling
what before
was unknown,
what before was
not.
of the heavy rain
comes the absence
of pain
that in the midst
of disgrace and
misunderstood notions
of peace
i stand to hold
your hand and
with unswerving
faith to embrace
the mirrors of
your broken
soul
enkindling
what before
was unknown,
what before was
not.
lastly
my memory of us
circles around
the edges of delight,
it thrives within
the ember of desire,
the ragged embrace
of stratus,
the seething
fire of the winds,
the swirling
rhythm of your
breath,
lastly,
the unattained
symphony of
your words.
circles around
the edges of delight,
it thrives within
the ember of desire,
the ragged embrace
of stratus,
the seething
fire of the winds,
the swirling
rhythm of your
breath,
lastly,
the unattained
symphony of
your words.
unattained
in the tangled mist
of your forgotten
remembering
the cobwebs
unravel in the
unforeseen darkness
of your smile,
of the massive
emptiness of your
gaze,
the shadows
arresting the
apathy between us,
arriving to a bitter
conclusion
of truths and things
passed
breaking and
bending
the memory
of that which
never was.
of your forgotten
remembering
the cobwebs
unravel in the
unforeseen darkness
of your smile,
of the massive
emptiness of your
gaze,
the shadows
arresting the
apathy between us,
arriving to a bitter
conclusion
of truths and things
passed
breaking and
bending
the memory
of that which
never was.
constant
i know that for the most part, we are the ones who decide what to do with our lives. but there is also a part of me that believes the forks in the road happen and was placed there for a reason.
you told me that you thought there were three things that are constant in life - death, taxes and change. immediately after mentioning this, you went silent and confessed that you were wrong. because there is me.
that exact same night i found our ring. maybe the universe is telling me something...and i better stand still so i can listen.
perhaps the reality is that there are a lot of other things that are constant, only if we look for them in the right places.
top ten crazy ideas in the midst of a tropical storm
it is the first time this has ever happened. it's a hopeless case and it's a big gamble if i would try to move away...from my office building.
according to inquirer.net, tropical storm ondoy hit the eastern side of the islands saturday morning. and i could not agree more. my shift started at 1:00 am so i kinda saw the whole thingamajig unfold before my very eyes. it is now past 4:00 pm and where am i? i am still here.
i have polluted my lungs (with the help of my office buds) in the hopes that i can bide enough time to wait for the freakin rain to come to a halt and finally go home (because i need my bed). it is 6 hours beyond my shift and you bet i am wide awake. there is no hope here. not a spark, not an iota, no silver lining whatsoever. i just read that the south luzon expressway have been closed to traffic due to waist-deep floodwater. i thought to myself: that is nice. i live in the south. if the major roads are swamped, i can just imagine what our street looks like now.
i know we live in the tropics but today's weather will totally make a joke out of seattle, washington's. and because i am bored to my skull and i do not want to drive myself nuts (that actually would not be necessary because i am already insane), i have come up with ten things i would like to venture into since the rain just won't go away:
- i have decided to spend the afternoon (and night) here at the office. if i attempt to go home, i probably won't be able to get here in time for my shift tonight. so while we're at it - let's have a slumber party!!!
- get inebriated while inside the building. it is cold and the only protection i have from the cold is my old jacket. wahahaha.
- invite my office buds to get inebriated with me, so if it comes to a point someone would find out about it, i won't be sanctioned alone. nyahaha.
- think of happy thoughts - a comfortable bed, hot cocoa, tuyo't champorado. now the happy thoughts make me want to slit my wrist instead because i just cannot have them.
- sing (on the top of my lungs): 'i'm only happy when it rains!'
- or try to sing something a little more depressing: 'que sera, sera...whatever will be, will be.'
- walk barefoot. since i do not have slippers. shite.
- do a double shift. ahem. uh?! boss!? ring ring! don't cancel my call.
- blog. well, i am already doing that now. yey!
- when i get out of this building, i will hoard military ration. and stack them in my pedestal. note to self: do not forget to include toiletries.
i feel like me and my office buds are in a reality show, that we are part of some sick social experiment. or that this is just one freakin test of endurance. who will take a nap first?
top ten lines from a song
once in a while you find a good song that just really leaves you...silent. sometimes i am drawn to a song because of the picture it paints in my head and sometimes it's because i 'relate' it to one particular moment i don't want to forget. i have always found my solace in music and in words which is why i am posting this. wehehe.
jimi hendrix said: 'next time, music is going to change the world.' i never doubted him.
- “Fate up against your will” (The Killing Moon by Echo and the Bunnymen)
- “Deep within I am shaken by the violence of existing for only you” (Do what you have to do by Sarah McLachlan)
- “I've even curved this body to fit your bow” (Cars and guitars by Tori Amos)
- “I bared my soul you waltzed right in” (Naked by Tracy Bonham)
- “You are my sweetest downfall” (Samson by Regina Spektor)
- “Just take me into your body, I wanna be drunk, I wanna be high” (Carmen by Paula Cole)
- “Waking from tormented sleep” (The weakness in me by Joan Armatrading)
- Until then, I'll scream until I'm hollow, I'll carve it in my skin, save it for tomorrow. (Heart attack by Nerina Pallot)
- “How do I get you alone?” (Alone by Heart)
- “The beating of my heart is a drum and it’s lost and it’s looking for a rhythm like you” (Making love out of nothing at all by Air Supply)
still | poem nineteen
you ahold of
my hand
will soon
be feeling
someone else’s
you covering
my body
with embraces
will soon
attempt to keep
someone else
warm
and that is
when i go back
to silence, to poetry,
to sacredness and
to myself.
my hand
will soon
be feeling
someone else’s
you covering
my body
with embraces
will soon
attempt to keep
someone else
warm
and that is
when i go back
to silence, to poetry,
to sacredness and
to myself.
still | poem twenty three
your light
deftly blurs
the line
between myth
and reality
and here i am
standing and
whispering, hoping
and lingering
in a dream
meant not be
answered
my peace shattered
my resolve scattered
in the noise of
wind, the hush of
silence, the murmur
of things to come…
the cacophony of
apathy and the
dissonance of pain
all because of you.
deftly blurs
the line
between myth
and reality
and here i am
standing and
whispering, hoping
and lingering
in a dream
meant not be
answered
my peace shattered
my resolve scattered
in the noise of
wind, the hush of
silence, the murmur
of things to come…
the cacophony of
apathy and the
dissonance of pain
all because of you.
pages
i have been meaning to write something about my most cherished possessions...unfortunately, i was too lazy to upload the pictures.
i am talking about my love affair with the written language. i was very young when i discovered my passion for reading, and i haven't stopped since.
about a month ago, i got myself a new bookshelf...well for a number of reasons:
- my first bookshelf is a little old and cannot house all my books anymore and the weight of my books has taken its toll on the poor thing.
- my unconsciousness continues to nag me. i once dreamt of my books walking out of my room.
- my books need to breathe.
- the worst thing about a room without air conditioning is that the pages turn yellow easily. grrrr.
- i needed to get a new one for...well...more books. wahahah.
to date, i have about 230 books, 45 (a rough estimate) of which i haven't read. but i don't care really. i have been asked countless of times why i keep on getting books when i haven't really even opened some of them. plain and simple. i am bound to age and there will come a time when a 'fun night out' would mean spending a few hours in the porch reading books. so yeah...you can say i am preparing for when i become senile (nyahahah).
here are some of the photos that i took of my books and my new shelf:
here are some of the photos that i took of my books and my new shelf:
i love this shot. it's always nice to have a new perspective on things.
that's my old shelf on the background. right now, it contains my music and video cds.
whoever said i have to go to the gym? the act of cleaning my books and shelf is enough for me to form biceps and triceps. ahahaha
my new shelf has more than enough space for all my books...plus 50 more. nice one!calliope’s dance
gathering the beads that define a moment, a you and me,
a serendipity, a scintilla of hope and a glimmer of faith
on a night lost in your mercurial light
my jaded fantasy and idle dream whispering
to the soul that manipulates gravity, the
seconds descending, hastening, spawning
a universe of words and tulips, brahms and
violins ~ hanging onto the elegant, elusive
carousel of seasons that neither begins nor ends
the unsaid love clinging onto the shining, immortal
silence of lips gently seeking and hands never touching
the voice of an undiscovered muse echoes through
this innocent flesh tangled in your inertia, the cacophony
forming a symphony, agitating, accelerating, illuminating.
top ten points to ponder
brewed coffee and sleeplessness gave birth to the following things everyone should consider:
- Women are like bagels – they taste better when they’re hot.
- You won’t know shite until it hits the fan
- Men digress, they de-evolve, they aren’t pigs (the animal), they’re pork (the meat)
- Your performance appraisal depends on your hemline.
- It is a choice to be constantly…constantly evil.
- Your peers tiptoe around you because they do not know you – because they are not privileged to.
- What others consider genius actually just is bravado.
- If you were single, I’d probably be straight.
- I am not fazed by your gayness.
- A man’s self-assurance is inversely proportional to his looks. Translation – if a guy is ugly, chances are he’d suppose he’s God’s greatest gift to women.
colorblind
the hues are shut from
the bruised, twisted prism
of your expectations
the vagueness throbbing
in the light of clarity
a brief, deep anguish
over shades that
define a moment
wretched
tormented
desperate
shattered
miserable
drowning in the
shapeless truth
of what we are not.
the bruised, twisted prism
of your expectations
the vagueness throbbing
in the light of clarity
a brief, deep anguish
over shades that
define a moment
wretched
tormented
desperate
shattered
miserable
drowning in the
shapeless truth
of what we are not.
mirror
your body thriving
in the reflection
you make of mine
the mirrors of your
faith and fate
disenchanted by
our wordlessness
the moments caught
in the web of your
dreams as you
descend in a slumber
the fragrant amaranth
that sleeps in your
hair ~ a colorful,
vivid memory of
everything i know
that is good ~
a delusion
ceasing to be.
for calliope
in the reflection
you make of mine
the mirrors of your
faith and fate
disenchanted by
our wordlessness
the moments caught
in the web of your
dreams as you
descend in a slumber
the fragrant amaranth
that sleeps in your
hair ~ a colorful,
vivid memory of
everything i know
that is good ~
a delusion
ceasing to be.
for calliope
footfall
nothing is left now
but the heavy, dreary,
neglected steps your
body makes upon my
earth, demanding
for my skin to stretch
and wrap itself upon
your lies and love
weaving desperation
and darkness within
the chained, chastised
dreams you whispered
to the wind
one heartbreak after
another, uncertain,
dazed, unsettled
grasping and breathing
the next few words
so i may remember
the bittersweet sound
of your heavy, dreary,
neglected footfall
fading away…
further from me.
but the heavy, dreary,
neglected steps your
body makes upon my
earth, demanding
for my skin to stretch
and wrap itself upon
your lies and love
weaving desperation
and darkness within
the chained, chastised
dreams you whispered
to the wind
one heartbreak after
another, uncertain,
dazed, unsettled
grasping and breathing
the next few words
so i may remember
the bittersweet sound
of your heavy, dreary,
neglected footfall
fading away…
further from me.
darkness
at the fortress of worthless
dreams, tracing the
steps you left behind
lured by the scent
of your disguised
belief
and summoned
to senselessness
by your absent faith
the fallen resurrects
to hunt for light
and make the darkness
bleed as another
sunset forgets how
it all began.
dreams, tracing the
steps you left behind
lured by the scent
of your disguised
belief
and summoned
to senselessness
by your absent faith
the fallen resurrects
to hunt for light
and make the darkness
bleed as another
sunset forgets how
it all began.
ally mcbeal
my idea of doing something 'productive' when i am off from work would be: (a) reading a book, (b) watching TV and (c) getting hammered. i don't get to drink so much these days so what i did last tuesday is get myself a set of (fake) ally mcbeal DVDs.
and since last tuesday i think i have watched at least 10 episodes...considering that i have a job that demands so much of my time and attention and given that ally mcbeal is a courtroom dramedy...i think i've done well in understanding the dialogues in each episode and laughing at the show's hysterical humor.
i started following the series when i was in high school. monette and i would even tape the episodes being aired on channel 9 every tuesday so we can see bits and pieces of it the entire week and talk about mcbealisms, fishisms and cageisms.
i think the show fueled the already hopeless incurable romantic in me. i never have denied that i always have felt like ally mcbeal personified - i mean she's a fictional character and if she'd ever really exist i 'think' i'd be her...or she'd be me. only that i am a lesbian and i won't really talk too much about getting over a guy or picturing myself getting married to one - but then again there is something so universal about ally mcbeal's language - love is love no matter what you think of it. love encompasses everything.
there's just so much about calista flockhart's bubbly, frivolous, vulnerable alter ego that speaks to me. and honestly, she still does. i was writing on my datebook yesterday and i mentioned there that the character makes me want to go back to writing. not poetry. but prose. you know maybe i can try the stream of consciousness technique because that is really how i think and how i am when i talk. pretty much like what i am doing right now.
what i can relate to more than anything - as far as the character ally is concerned - is the fact that she does not have any qualms about looking for and seeking love. come on, there really isn't a lot of people who still has the virtue of chivalry in them so you're probably going to end up waiting for nothing if you just sit in the corner instead of asking someone out.
yes it is true that searching for love would require taking risks - but what the hell - sooner than later you will realize that you cannot just fill your life with conjuctions (ifs, buts, howevers)...you have to start braving the storm. it is always calm after the storm (or if you are at the eye of the storm). you never lose by loving. you only lose by holding back.
i remember - i used to watch the show too much back in high school that i started to pick up some of her idiosyncrasies - for example - dancing like ally or worst - dancing like that little imaginary baby. que horror. despite the fact that reliving the 'ally moments' ultimately brought back memories (cannot avoid them), it's good to reminisce a part of my life that really did lead me to where i am now. if it wasn't for the opportunities that i grabbed or missed, i would not be where i am, and possibly, would have lied to myself and lived a life full of questions.
at least now i can say that i may not be perfectly happy (who wants to be perfectly happy, anyway? happiness is so overrated) but i know what it is like to have stood in front of a loaded gun, which sometimes meant being hit or being lucky enough to dodge the bullets. i know what it is like to seize the day like it is my last because i was and never will be daunted to take chances.
slave
the once forgotten bittersweet
memory,
the solemn image of you
resurrected by the intense,
parched, arid
need to feel you beside me,
to touch the petals that enfold
your light and depth
stumbling, fumbling,
stirred by your stares
and by the secret language
of our dreams
haunted by the scent of
that fleeting, timid
kiss from your lips,
chained to the remembrance
of you reaching for me
in the quiet of the dawn
when my senses and delight
fall upon your delicate hands
shaping me,
enslaving me to
this sweet senselessness.
written 13 september 2009
7:42 pm - 7:53 pm
bag of beans, tagaytay
thanks to bess chai for the word :)
memory,
the solemn image of you
resurrected by the intense,
parched, arid
need to feel you beside me,
to touch the petals that enfold
your light and depth
stumbling, fumbling,
stirred by your stares
and by the secret language
of our dreams
haunted by the scent of
that fleeting, timid
kiss from your lips,
chained to the remembrance
of you reaching for me
in the quiet of the dawn
when my senses and delight
fall upon your delicate hands
shaping me,
enslaving me to
this sweet senselessness.
written 13 september 2009
7:42 pm - 7:53 pm
bag of beans, tagaytay
thanks to bess chai for the word :)
meeting in the middle
‘We finally caught up with each other…’
I spent a good part of my afternoon (yesterday) watching the TV. My eyes were tired but my brain was restless. So I reached for a DVD and watched ‘The Curious Case of Benjamin Button’ for the umpteenth time.
There is something about this movie that is just so engaging, enthralling, enchanting. It may be the story, the characters, the actors’ chemistry. Or maybe it is just me.
I spent a good part of my afternoon (yesterday) watching the TV. My eyes were tired but my brain was restless. So I reached for a DVD and watched ‘The Curious Case of Benjamin Button’ for the umpteenth time.
There is something about this movie that is just so engaging, enthralling, enchanting. It may be the story, the characters, the actors’ chemistry. Or maybe it is just me.
I suddenly remembered what it felt like – watching the film in the silver screen. Everything about it is just so magnanimous. It lasted two hours and forty-five minutes but the creators definitely were visionaries.
Some parts of the film made my eyes tear up (or perhaps I was just plain exhausted), including:
- The way Benjamin and Daisy embraced each other when the latter went back to New Orleans after recuperating from an accident.
- When they watched the sunrise together and Daisy tenderly said: ‘I promise not to lose myself to self-pity again.’
- Here’s another good scene: After Daisy’s return, they were sitting across each other. Daisy said: ‘You have not said two words.’ Whereas Benjamin, with his gaze anchored at her, quipped: ‘I don’t want to ruin anything.’
- When Benjamin took Daisy to her room and she closed the door behind them and all that you can hear was the lock clicking.
- The way Benjamin amorously said: ‘Absolutely.’ (Come on people, that scene is hard to forget)
- This line says it all: ‘Some things last.’
- The bittersweet moment when Benjamin was leaving his family and he left the money and the key on Daisy’s bedside table. Daisy was looking at him, trying to comprehend what he is doing and Benjamin looked at her, stunned and unable to say anything.
Here’s something that I wanted to share with you. This was the letter that Benjamin wrote for their daughter Caroline on her 13th birthday (if I am not mistaken):
‘For what it’s worth, it’s never too late or in my case too early, to be whoever you want to be. There is no time limit. Stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same. There are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best, darling.’
‘I hope you’d see things that stopped you. I hope that you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with different point of view. I hope you live a life you are proud of. If you find that you are not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again.’
Written September 4, 2009
goody and kyla
today, a good friend of mine - kyla - is getting married.
i am delighted that you have found your sigh and your smile, your dream and your reality, your soul and your ecstasy.
i wish the two of you love, patience, respect, magic, enthusiasm, happiness, hope and faith. and if all of that which i have mentioned fails and you find yourselves in a chasm of helplessness and confusion, i wish you forgiveness.
today i offer you this sonnet:
LXVI
I do not love you - except because I love you;
I go from loving to not loving you,
from waiting to not waiting for you
my heart moves from the cold into
the fire. I love you only because it's you
I love; I hate you no end, and hating you
bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you
is that I do not see you but love you
blindly. Maybe the January light will consume
my heart with its cruel
ray, stealing my key to true
calm. In this part of the story I am the one who dies,
the only one, and I will die of love
because I love you, because I love you, Love, in fire and in blood.
words of wisdom?!
Your fences need to be horse-high, pig tight and bull-strong.
Keeps skunks and bankers and lawyers at a distance.
Life is simpler when you plow around the stump.
A bumble bee is considerably faster than a John Deere tractor.
Words that soak into your ears are whispered...not yelled.
Meanness don't jes' happen overnight.
Forgive your enemies. It messes up their heads.
Do not corner something that you know is meaner than you.
It don't take a very big person to carry a grudge.
You cannot unsay a cruel word.
Every path has a few puddles.
When you wallow with pigs, expect to get dirty.
The best sermons are lived, not preached.
Most of the stuff people worry about ain't never gonna happen anyway.
Don't judge folks by their relatives.
Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.
Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and think back, you'll enjoy it a second time.
Don't interfere with somethin' that ain't botherin' you none.
Timing has a lot to do with the outcome of a rain dance.
If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin'.
Sometimes you get, and sometimes you get got.
The biggest troublemaker you'll probably ever have to deal with watches you from the mirror every mornin'.
Always drink water upstream from the herd.
Good judgement comes from experience and a lotta that comes from bad judgement.
Lettin' the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier than puttin' it back in.
If you get to thinkin' you're a person of some influence, try orderin' somebody elses dog around.
Keeps skunks and bankers and lawyers at a distance.
Life is simpler when you plow around the stump.
A bumble bee is considerably faster than a John Deere tractor.
Words that soak into your ears are whispered...not yelled.
Meanness don't jes' happen overnight.
Forgive your enemies. It messes up their heads.
Do not corner something that you know is meaner than you.
It don't take a very big person to carry a grudge.
You cannot unsay a cruel word.
Every path has a few puddles.
When you wallow with pigs, expect to get dirty.
The best sermons are lived, not preached.
Most of the stuff people worry about ain't never gonna happen anyway.
Don't judge folks by their relatives.
Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.
Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and think back, you'll enjoy it a second time.
Don't interfere with somethin' that ain't botherin' you none.
Timing has a lot to do with the outcome of a rain dance.
If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin'.
Sometimes you get, and sometimes you get got.
The biggest troublemaker you'll probably ever have to deal with watches you from the mirror every mornin'.
Always drink water upstream from the herd.
Good judgement comes from experience and a lotta that comes from bad judgement.
Lettin' the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier than puttin' it back in.
If you get to thinkin' you're a person of some influence, try orderin' somebody elses dog around.
water
admiring the glistening
ember of your majestic
eyes, seething, struggling,
insatiable
biding time as i bask
in an afterglow
of heat and mist
waiting, anticipating,
craving for the next
word to fall from
your lips and
alter the arduous
path brimming with
water and stones
your thoughts silence
my furtive heart
the seconds linger
the distance is
maimed by that
which springs
from your
idle fantasies.
for calliope
ember of your majestic
eyes, seething, struggling,
insatiable
biding time as i bask
in an afterglow
of heat and mist
waiting, anticipating,
craving for the next
word to fall from
your lips and
alter the arduous
path brimming with
water and stones
your thoughts silence
my furtive heart
the seconds linger
the distance is
maimed by that
which springs
from your
idle fantasies.
for calliope
white
your body filled
with luminosity and
my hand clamoring
for more of you
threads of sunlight
pouring from your
eyes, you blind
even the most passionate
stranger
leading her to the
gracious, impermeable
delight of your
smile and your color,
choosing to exist only
in your imagination
~ an inexhaustible
fire, an undeniable
yearning for one
peaceful night
of you sheathed
in an endless
white.
for calliope
with luminosity and
my hand clamoring
for more of you
threads of sunlight
pouring from your
eyes, you blind
even the most passionate
stranger
leading her to the
gracious, impermeable
delight of your
smile and your color,
choosing to exist only
in your imagination
~ an inexhaustible
fire, an undeniable
yearning for one
peaceful night
of you sheathed
in an endless
white.
for calliope
begging
wrestling with your playful,
lithe, smooth, merciless
smile as the night hints
into the forgotten clouds
landing on the earth of
your supple skin, my
irrepressible and irrational
languish over minutes
of crushing desire to be
closer to you than I was
the last time,
the fluid memory of
staring at your lips as
you spoke softly of dreams
and sunsets,
begging to arrive,
begin, adore the
helpless moments
i waited for no one
but you.
for calliope
lithe, smooth, merciless
smile as the night hints
into the forgotten clouds
landing on the earth of
your supple skin, my
irrepressible and irrational
languish over minutes
of crushing desire to be
closer to you than I was
the last time,
the fluid memory of
staring at your lips as
you spoke softly of dreams
and sunsets,
begging to arrive,
begin, adore the
helpless moments
i waited for no one
but you.
for calliope
bits and pieces part two
If he is already letting you go – then fly away. Whatever his reason is for saying this to you or doing this to you – do not seek to learn any of it anymore. You will end up diving into the abyss one more time. You have lost yourself far too many times already because you have kept yourself clutching the knife’s edges. Again, I am not saying it is bad, I have done that before – all I am saying is that you have to allow yourself to dance to your own beat now – you and him do not hear the same music and do not move to the same cadence anymore. That’s harsh but that is the truth – and I bet that in 10 years you would not want for your life to flash before your eyes and come back to smack you in the face. :)
I have read somewhere that: life can take away happiness, but it cannot take away having had it. Cherish the good and the hurtful moments – they were given to you because they’d make you grow - so do not be the only one holding back your growth now.
Focus on the now – or better yet – refocus your vision to yourself – and what you can do to make things better. I am not one who easily lets go of things but we have to wisely choose and consider the things that we hold on to and the things we let go of. Concentrate on what is essential and is necessary. For the longest time you have built your universe around him and left your own garden to allow the weeds to grow. Now is the best moment to go back and pick your pieces up and unroot that which keeps on hurting you.
Sometimes we are looking for the light in the wrong places. Sometimes we curse the darkness because we haven’t fully realized that we are capable of lighting our own candle.
Steady hands take the wheel – take the challenge of being on your own (yes, given that you are suddenly without that someone) while you know you can – do not let it slide. If it has gone and you are alive, you didn’t need it. It’s all part of your emotional evolution.
No one ever said that love guarantees bliss – take the pain because no one can and will take it for you – which is why you have to square your shoulders to the world and just exude that 'can-do' attitude – because you know you are able to and because you know you deserve better.
I have read somewhere that: life can take away happiness, but it cannot take away having had it. Cherish the good and the hurtful moments – they were given to you because they’d make you grow - so do not be the only one holding back your growth now.
Focus on the now – or better yet – refocus your vision to yourself – and what you can do to make things better. I am not one who easily lets go of things but we have to wisely choose and consider the things that we hold on to and the things we let go of. Concentrate on what is essential and is necessary. For the longest time you have built your universe around him and left your own garden to allow the weeds to grow. Now is the best moment to go back and pick your pieces up and unroot that which keeps on hurting you.
Sometimes we are looking for the light in the wrong places. Sometimes we curse the darkness because we haven’t fully realized that we are capable of lighting our own candle.
Steady hands take the wheel – take the challenge of being on your own (yes, given that you are suddenly without that someone) while you know you can – do not let it slide. If it has gone and you are alive, you didn’t need it. It’s all part of your emotional evolution.
No one ever said that love guarantees bliss – take the pain because no one can and will take it for you – which is why you have to square your shoulders to the world and just exude that 'can-do' attitude – because you know you are able to and because you know you deserve better.
bits and pieces part one
About things flying out the window or ending up as a waste of both your time – that will never happen – at least not for you – because I know you only meant to love him and keep him – the best way you can. You never lose by loving, you only lose by holding back. You have put yourself out there, took the risk, got so high and fell so hard – but hey, that is life. You are responsible only for your own heart – and you went after what would make you happy – if it did not work out, then do not curse or blame yourself for lack of foresight – be grateful that you are emerging from this – you might be bruised and hurt, but you are still breathing. That should be reason enough to praise Him.
us
the form assumed by
air when you let the
smoke escape from
your lips
the shape taken by
water as you let the
rain trickle down
your nape
the happiness embodied
by wildflowers blossoming
in the night
the loneliness of dusk
broken by the laughter
of dawn,
a ceaseless wondering
of what we could
become.
for calliope
air when you let the
smoke escape from
your lips
the shape taken by
water as you let the
rain trickle down
your nape
the happiness embodied
by wildflowers blossoming
in the night
the loneliness of dusk
broken by the laughter
of dawn,
a ceaseless wondering
of what we could
become.
for calliope
but
this craving is too difficult
to conceal and my
desire escalates,
dances and leaves
the house of smoke
and clouds
to reach and
seek the edges of
your wonder,
your gaze of light
and your lips
a spring of
tenderness and
silence
my soul rushes
like the blood in
your veins,
wanting this
moment
ever
more.
for calliope
to conceal and my
desire escalates,
dances and leaves
the house of smoke
and clouds
to reach and
seek the edges of
your wonder,
your gaze of light
and your lips
a spring of
tenderness and
silence
my soul rushes
like the blood in
your veins,
wanting this
moment
ever
more.
for calliope
a mother's prayer
i just heard the crushing truth - that my mother spends a fraction of her day praying that i will be 'normal.' that my identity is a phase, that soon i will realize i would like to have a family with a man.
but what is normal, really? it is so overrated. and it is just odd that the very person who gave birth to me thinks that i am anything but not normal - so what exactly does that say about her or my father? my mom even mentioned that had my father been alive, i would not hear the end of it - all because my dad is a disciplinarian.
if my dad had been alive, i know it would all be a breeze. who i am does not have anything to do with discipline. i am born this way. if my dad had been alive i know i would be loved - i am his favorite, and with his wisdom he will realize that nothing will change the fact that i am his daughter.
it is this unimaginable and excruciating hollow - to support a family that does not support, or at least respect who i am. it is not so much about 'choosing,' as you cannot choose your identity - it is inate, it is inborn, and your identity is inescapable.
sometimes i wish i can tell my mom her child had been my other cousins - who are straight - but are dreamless, useless bums and drug addicts. maybe it'll be a whole lot easier for her.
i do not need your prayers, mom. pray for those who do not have food to nourish their starving bodies - those who do not have a roof above their heads - those who lost a limb or something that would render them incapable of working.
johann wolfgang von goethe once said: 'if God wanted me otherwise, He would have created me otherwise.' i will not let your hysterical cynicism get into me. i have not spoken like this to you or about you in my life until now. because i will not tolerate your discrimination - toward your own flesh and blood. i have done most of the things in my life - in the desire to please you and make you proud.
i am here because God wanted me here. i am here because God wants for me to fulfill something grand. i am here because you brought me here. i seek not your love or your understanding. i seek not your light or your motherly affection. what you just said totally extinguished the need for me to feel that. however, i know i deserve respect.
if you pray hard enough everyday i hope you will realize that i am God's creation as much as everyone else is. He loves without exceptions. i am blessed to know that God embraces all that i am.
itching
yes, i am itching to get another tattoo. i have a couple of poems (i am talking about 5-liners, not sonnets, guys - so do not faint) in mind. my friend reich (who will celebrate her birthday on wednesday) mentioned that there is a website (www.flipscript.com) that generates ambigrams.
i went to the website and had an ambigram of the phrase 'ANIMA CHRISTI' made. it is a catholic prayer, the text is in latin, but it actually means 'SOUL OF CHRIST' in english.
here is the entire prayer:
ANIMA CHRISTI
ANIMA Christi, sanctifica me.
Corpus Christi, salva me.
Sanguis Christi, inebria me.
Aqua lateris Christi, lava me.
Passio Christi, conforta me.
O bone Iesu, exaudi me.
Intra tua vulnera absconde me.
Ne permittas me separari a te.
Ab hoste maligno defende me.
In hora mortis meae voca me.
Et iube me venire ad te,
Ut cum Sanctis tuis laudem te
in saecula saeculorum.
Amen.
SOUL OF CHRIST
SOUL of Christ, sanctify me.
Body of Christ, save me.
Blood of Christ, inebriate me.
Water from the side of Christ, wash me.
Passion of Christ, strengthen me.
O good Jesus, hear me.
Within Thy wounds, hide me.
Separated from Thee let me never be.
From the malignant enemy, defend me.
At the hour of death, call me.
To come to Thee, bid me,
That I may praise Thee in the company
Of Thy Saints, for all eternity.
Amen.
here's the ambigram:
rock and hawk
Here is a symbol in which
Many high tragic thoughts
Watch their own eyes.
This gray rock, standing tall
On the headland, where the sea-wind
Lets no tree grow,
Earthquake-proved, and signatured
By ages of storms: on its peak
A falcon has perched.
I think, here is your emblem
To hang in the future sky;
Not the cross, not the hive,
But this; bright power, dark peace;
Fierce consciousness joined with final
Disinterestedness;
Life with calm death; the falcon’s
Realist eyes and act
Married to the massive
Mysticism of stone,
Which failure cannot cast down
Nor success make proud.
by robinson jeffers
Many high tragic thoughts
Watch their own eyes.
This gray rock, standing tall
On the headland, where the sea-wind
Lets no tree grow,
Earthquake-proved, and signatured
By ages of storms: on its peak
A falcon has perched.
I think, here is your emblem
To hang in the future sky;
Not the cross, not the hive,
But this; bright power, dark peace;
Fierce consciousness joined with final
Disinterestedness;
Life with calm death; the falcon’s
Realist eyes and act
Married to the massive
Mysticism of stone,
Which failure cannot cast down
Nor success make proud.
by robinson jeffers
still | poem twenty one
white
the sound of pure,
impeccable, unaltered
motion, of the waves
that come and leave
your wide ocean
the patient and steady
stones of your innocence
leading me to believe
our time exists now
resting, sleeping inside
the dream you enfold
in your bosom
dancing, speaking
to my hopes and longing
for the unaltered,
impeccable, pure
sound of
white.
still | poem three
memory
symphony
confection
perfection
anticipation
emancipation
flight
fight
bright
delight
desire
haywire
unspoken
unwritten.
symphony
confection
perfection
anticipation
emancipation
flight
fight
bright
delight
desire
haywire
unspoken
unwritten.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
