i am only half nuts posted by imani , Tuesday, December 29, 2009 at 11:23 AM, in Labels: freefall

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 – I have this penchant for smelling paper – magazines, 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 naiveté 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.