laiya

Akala mo ba'y madali na lisanin ka?
Akala mo ba'y iniwanan kita nang ganun ganun na lang?
Nang basta basta na lamang?

Grabe naman.

Sana man lamang ay sumagi nang kahit isang segundo sa isip mo na nahirapan ako.

Na nahihirapan pa rin ako.

Ang huling lingon na iyon..
Akala mo ba'y kinalimutan na kita?
Na madaling kalimutan ka?
Na madali ang lahat nang ito?
Ako'y patuloy na binibigahin mo.

Patuloy akong hinahabol nang ala-ala mo.
Patuloy kang tumatakbo sa isipan ko.
Sa panaginip ko,
Maging sa realidad ko.
Ni hindi ko na nga yata alam kung sa realidad nga ba tayo nagkita.

Ngunit..

Oo.

Tama.

Iyon nga pala ang tatlong araw ng realidad na pinakatatangi ko.
Pa’no ko nga ba makalilimutan?

Siguro nga.

Ang lahat kasi ay mistulang pangarap na nagkatotoo nang tatlong araw.
At kalian pa kaya na ika’y muling makakasama?
Sobrang nagsusumamo ako na makapiling kang muli.
Na ika’y makaulayaw.
Sa ilalim ni Luna..
Maging sa ilalim ng tirik na araw.
Sa mga oras na ito ay iyon lang ang batid ko.
Iyon lamang ang tanging hangarin ko.
Lunod pa rin ako sa'yo, Batangas..
Lunod pa rin ako sa'yo.

Monday, October 9, 2006

Me: Uhmm, Death? Can you please stop
embracing me? Thanks.

Death: Oh.. Sorry. Am I choking you?

Me: I guess you're supposed to do that. You're
Death, remember?

Death: Oh yeah. Sorry.

Me: No prob. I hope you won't mind moving away
too.

Death: Sorry. Ok. Am I too close? Sorry.

Me: You're always saying sorry. You're starting to
annoy me.

Death: Am I? Err.. Sorry. Oh shucks. Sorry again.
Argh. Sorry.

Me: And why do you keep on apologizing?

Death: Sor.. Err..

Me: You aren't supposed to be polite, right?

Death: . . .

Death: How should someone like me if I'm not?

Me: Are we supposed to like you?

Death: Don't you?

Me: . . .

Death: Darn it. I knew it wasn't working.

Me: You're tricking me again.

Death: Nahh.. That's just how I am. If I won't lure
you to my empty space.. Is there a filled space?
Well, anyway, if I won't tempt you to like me, then I
wouldn't be Death at all.

Me: You've got a point.

Death: Coffee?

Me: Sure. Wait..

Death: I prefer coco. Caffeine's bad for my neurons
and axons and dendrites. And add peanut butter.
Thanks.

Me: You add peanut butter on coco?

Death: Don't you? That's weird.

Me: Wait, I'm not supposed to like you.

Death: Why?

Me: Should I?

Me: You killed my Savior.

Death: Correction. Technically, I attempted to kill
Him.

Death: He's too strong. I just couldn't. He makes
me tremble. He's so filled with love.

Me: It's so odd for you to remind me that. More of
bizarre that I have to be reminded of that by you.

Death: Think so?

Me: Yeah.

Death: I wish He died for me too.

Me: Didn't He?

Death: He wouldn't be nailed on the cross if it
weren't for me. And if it weren't for you. More of,
bacause of us but not for us. Just for you, because
of me. Something like that.

Death: I wish He saved me too..

Me: You wouldn't be Death then.

Death: It's frustrating. Believe me. And sad.

Me: If He saved you, would you be called Life?

Death: You haven't met him yet?

Me: So there's this.. Err.. Entity called Life, too?

Death: So you haven't met him.

Death: I'm much kind than him. Life is too harsh.
He's ruthless.

Me: That I can comprehend.

Death: I still wish He saved me,too. I'm still hoping
that He'll save me..

Me: When I talk to Him, I'll mention that.

Death: Isn't it that I have to die first for me to
receive His grace? That's what I have read in the
Bible. You have to die to your self, your desires.

Me: You read the Bible?

Death: I thought I've made it clear that I have an
affinity for Thy Savior. It's in Romans.

Me: Where did you get your Bible? Which reminds
me.. I guess I forgot where I placed mine.

Death: . . .

Death: Sorry.

Me: I've been looking for that for so long!

Death: You have?

Death: You didn't even notice it's gone.

Me: Stalker.

Death: Anyway, I said it's on Romans.

Me: That's true.

Death: New creation. New life, but not Life. He's
horrid, I think I've mentioned that earlier.

Death: Uhm, hey.. Can you please help me die?

bus stop

Lord, ayaw ko pa pala umuwi. Kahit minsan malunkot.. Kahit excited na 'ko makita Ka. Kahit hindi Mo hinihingi, gusto ko may magawa ako para Sa'yo. Gusto ko, magamit mo pa ko. Gusto ko makilala Ka rin nila. Gusto ko pa mag-ipon ng mapapag-kwentuhan natin, tapos magka-kape tayo. Gusto ko pag nag-kita tayo, marami akong baon na kuwento.

kute

Wala na si Ate Ku.

Si Ate Ku. Kute. Kasi ate na, kuya pa. Ang dakilang taga photocopy sa building sa kolehiyo ng medisina. Kanina lang napadaan ako dun bago mag-simula ang prayer meeting namin sa shed. Nakauwi na kaya si ate ku? Ang dilim. May tao at may makina.

Kakalungkot nga naman. May isang buwan na rin pala nag-simula ung bagong admin sa Xerox. May isang buwan na rin pala naming hindi nakikita sila Kute.

May isang buwan na rin palang gustong mag-aklas ng mga blockmate ko para ibalik ang tropa ni ate ku. Pati si ate na nasa building namin. Ang bagal bagal ni ateng bago! Isang page na nga lang, haba haba ng pila niya. Ayaw pa mag-reduce! Hindi kasi marunong. Buti pa si ate dati, kahit box office kayang kaya ang pila! Tsaka..

Un talaga un, eh. Tsaka.

Tsaka si ate inuuna mga bio. Tsaka kilala na tayo ni ate! Wala na tuloy chismis! Hahaha.. wala na tuloy mag-tatanong sa’min na kung kamusta ba ung exam namin na kaka-photocopy niya lang. Oo nga, puwedeng totoo na hindi niya naiintindihan kung ano nga ba ung lumalabas sa makina niya, pero totoo rin naman na mararamdaman mo ung concern niya.. Walang halong plastik ba. Wala nang buong tiyagang makikinig sa mga hinaing namin sa mga exam, sa mga prof, sa mga kapwa studyante, sa araw, sa guard, sa pagkain sa canteen, sa oras, at sa kung ano-ano pang mga bagay na hindi namin alam kung bakit namin binubuhos sa kanila kahit na sila eh may sari-sarili rin namang iniisip na tiyak na mas malaki dun sa mga kababawan namin pero nakakatuwang isipin na nakikinig sila na para bang pagkatapos nilang makinig eh ok na kami, kahit wala silang sabihin. Na totoo naman.

At pag may sinabi na sila…

Pag-igihan mo na makapasok diyan,ha?

Yan ang huli sa’king sinabi ni Kute nung huling araw nila sa pamantasan. Tinutukoy niya ang kolehiyo ng medisina. Si ate ku kasi napapagbalingan ko ng pagod, maraming beses na. sinermonan na rin ako niyan minsan. Tiyaga lang daw, sabi niya. Na ung mga studyante rin daw dati, hinaing nang hinaing. Kesyo pagod na, kesyo tinatamad na, kesyo hindi na daw nila kaya. Pero gaya nga ng sabi ni ate ku, asa’n na daw ung mga batang mareklamo na un. Ayun! Mga doctor na! Sabi niya hindi raw para sa kaniya ang pag-aaral, na matagal na daw niya un sinuko. Pero pag sa’min na mga studyante, talagang todo pag-pursige siya sa’min. makakaraos at makakaraos rin naman, kahit gano’ng hirap. Huwag daw bibigay.

Ang kulit na para sa isang tao na hindi nakapag-aral eh pinapahalagahan pa rin ito at mas pinapakita ang kahalagahan nito para sa ibang tao. Ang kulit lang na ung mga tao na may mas malalaking problema kesa sa pagkain sa canteen eh concerned na concerned na nakikinig pag nag-bubuhos kami ng mga hinaing. Ang kulit lang na ung mga tao na medyo dinadaandaanan lang namin araw araw eh siyang mga tao rin pala na hahanap-hanapin namin at papahalagahan ng ganito.

aylabyusabado

Gusto ko ulit gumising sa gano’ng umaga. Wala pang alas sais ‘yon, pero kumpleto na ang tulog ko. Swabe ang bagsak ng araw sa kusina. Sakto sa pag-dungaw mo sa sampayan sa labas na hindi ko naman alam kung meron nga ba akong gustong hanapin o gusto ko lang talaga itong makita. Sakto sa pan de sal na binili ng lola. Sakto sa balita na ina-anunsyo sa AM transistor na pinapakinggan ni lolo ko na iba kina Mozart, Chopin, Bach, at kung sino-sino pa na pinapatugtog ng tatay ko sa bahay at sasakyan namin.

Magandangmagandangmagandangmagandang…

Magandang umaga na nga. Tulala lang sa kulambo na pilit kong inaayawan. Ang init kasi sa loob,eh! Pero sa susunod na umaga ng Sabado ay aun ka pa rin. Dun ka pa rin nagigising. Dun pa rin manggagaling ang maliit mong paa na tatapak sa sahig na narra.

Ang sahig na narra na ‘yon. Lagi kayong pinagsasabihan na ingatan ang pag-inom, na mag-tuyo ng maigi pagka-ligo para hindi tutulo-tulo ang tubig sa sahig. Pa’no ang tiyo eh laging ‘yong pilit na pinapa-kintab. Linggo-linggo kaming pinagsasabihan magpipinsan, pero linggo-linggo eh ganu’n pa rin ang pagtitiyaga niya mag-linis.

Linggo-linggo rin, isa lang ang naaalala mo na amoy. Hanggang ngayon, pag napapa-dalaw ka eh gano’n pa rin. Amoy ng magta-taho. Amoy ng sala. Amoy ng transistor. Amoy ng banig. Amoy ng mga magpipinsang walang kapagurang naglalaro. Amoy ng batang excited na sasama sa opisina ng tiya. Amoy ng mga tiyo at tiya na hindi nauubusan ng kuwento. Amoy ng silong na pinapasok namin ‘pag may mga nalalaglag na bagay. Ang dami na sigurong nanakaw na ala-ala ang silong na ‘yon.

Ang sarap bumalik sa gano’ng umaga. Biyernes, tapos nang klase eh hindi kayo sa bahay uuwi, pero sa Lola Mandaluyong. Ang sarap sigurong matulog ulit sa banig at gumising sa loob ng kulambo.

Ang sarap gumising ng walang halong lumbay.

lester tan

Labing-siyam na segundo. Higit pa kaya ‘yon do’n? Hindi ko alam. Alam ko lang gusto kong manatlili do’n. Labing-siyam na segundo.. Ni hindi ko akalain na mangyayari ang gano’n. Ni hindi sumagi sa isip ko kahit minsan. Oo, puwede nga na paminsan-minsan (O parati?) eh naiisip ko na makakasalubong kita. Sa LRT, sa kalye, sa bilihan ng kape, sa overpass, sa sinehan, sa pila, sa karinderya, sa bilihan ng waffle, sa bilihan ng C2, sa bilihan ng kendi, sa bilihan ng tiket sa tren, sa jeep, sa fx, sa simbahan..

Sa simbahan.

Tapos kaninang pasado alas-sais ay ayun ka. Naka berdeng t-shirt at tsaleko at khakis at tsinelas. Naka-sukbit pa rin ang unggoy na key chain sa bitbit mong bag na green na Adidas. Tumatawid sa harapan ko. Mas mahaba na nga ang buhok mo sa akin. Ang kulit na ang lumanay ng bagsak ng ulan. Ang kulit na parang bumagal ang takbo ng lahat. Totoo pala ‘yon. Akala ko eh ine-editlang nila un sa mga pelikula. Ginagawa lang na drama. Pero hindi pala. Kusa pala talagang bumabagal ang mga pangyayari. Kusa ka palang mapapa-tulala. Hindi pala kunwari yung ulan na pumapatak pag merong nangyayari na gano’n ka-drama. Kusa pala ‘tong nakikipag-laro. Ang kulit na nasa loob ako ng fx at ikaw, naglalakad ng mabagal sa harapan ng sasakyan na para bang binigyan ako ng ilang segundo para matitigan ka ulit. Ang kulit na matapos ang kulang kulang dalawang buwan eh nandiyan ka bigla sa harapan ko nang hindi natin sinadya. Na para bang napagbigyan at napagkatuwaan ng pagkakataon. Na parang gusto kong bumaba at yakapin ka at kamustahin ka at ewan ko kung anu-ano pa. Pero andun ako, nanatili sa kinauupuan ko. Walang magawa. Walang nagawa. Hindi pa rin makapaniwala sa pangyayari.

Hanggang ngayon ay hindi ako makapaniwala sa nangyari.

At parang ang gusto ko lang ngayon eh ang ibalik ang sarili ko sa pagkalunod sa ilang segundo na un.

buendia sunrise

and in the morning we'll just simply say, yeah, it has been a good night

atp

Get past the reasoning of the mind and just indulge in grace amazing.

The funny and amazing thing with God is that he never condemns us. That scrap is for fulfilling the purpose of the enemy. Conviction is far different from condemnation. The latter taunts us like hell, making us feel that He will never forgive us. On the other hand, conviction reminds us that the Holy Spirit is inside us. It reminds us that we are in God. It searches our tiny brain and looks for a way to tell us over and over again the fact that the enemy has indeed been defeated a couple of thousand years ago.

Not being in guilt is not an excuse to pursue sin. There is never an excuse for sin. Self righteousness is one of the worst mind sets that could happen to man. Knowledge is already in us. Love is already exposed. How the heck can one sin, then?

That’s just the way it is.

sweet animosity

Can a man lose his soul?

If he can, or if he does, how then is he supposed to search for it? How is he supposed to bring it back? Can man survive without it? Without his soul, can a man still feel? Can he still appreciate? Would he still know nostalgia and anxiety? Without his soul, how can man hold on in faith that his soul would come back to him? Can he mourn? Or at the very least, sense desolation? Wouldn’t he end up as some zombie? Wouldn’t it be better if man were dead without his soul? Then again, how would man wish to be dead without the very soul that makes living probable, without him knowing that that’s actually what’s missing?

On the other hand, would the soul be desperately seeking man, too?

backspace

I hate talking. I hate it when someone asks me how I feel. It’s an emotion, for crying out loud. I hate it when I’m taking my time staring blankly then some callous person starts gabbing. I hate it even greater when people try to talk to me the minute I wake up - some nightmare at dawn. I hate it when someone tells me what to do. I am no moron. I hate it when someone starts to tell stories when I’m not in the mood to listen. I hate it even more when I’m not actually reacting and still they continue to annoy me, persuading me to give some stupid comment that’s supposed to compliment the way they think so that they’d be proved right. I hate it when people tell me things that I have no business in knowing. I give no interest in slander. I hate it when I feel weak then someone tells me that things would be alright. Oh please, of course I know that all would be fine. Just give me some time to use my license to pour out so called emotions and to think, if you know what thinking actually means.

I like it when people don’t pretend to know the right words to say. I love the boldness, the honesty. After all, I listen not to make my self feel better, but to lose ignorance and see rationalism. I love it when someone simply listens, and love it even more when we both know that there’s no real need of talking.

Ironic enough, the person with the very words that I have to hear at that particular moment is the same person who shares my appreciation of silence.

Then conversation begins.

cominatcha

You talk about things ‘til it becomes overrated. You discuss things with yourself and darn, all ends up in an argument. Trying to clear things up, trying to reason, trying to defend only to end up ever blurry. Or worse, you end up blank.

You’ve wanted to break down. You’ve anticipated breaking down. Then the same thing disappoints you. Anxiety got its way again, only better. Something like sad that it isn’t sad, that kind of better.

If you may call that better.

in front of some bank in buendia ave

manong is so funny

city hall time, 18:20

Often do we find ourselves looking for things to amaze us
For things so rarely beautiful that it haunts our deepest passions
Lusting for joy and craving for it most evidently
Searching for things that would caress your deepest senses
As if introducing pain and love, and depriving it, too, at the same time
Even instantly.
We soak ourselves in calmness and ecstasy
Trying to bring back days immemorial
Trying to live with both suicide and immortality
And to find the art of beautiful comfort in sadness?
I doubt anyone can try any more harder.

snapped ginger

once again you spend your day dreaming about fairies from a not-so-distant land
of rainy thursday afternoons and warm cacao
of where things would take you,
or where they'd bring you back
of purple inks and black parchment
of sling bags and shooting stars
of brown paper bag memories and yellow brick road destinations
uncertain whether you would want again or not to wake up with the same nostalgic sigh.

preliminary oranges

Sometimes you just get too tired from several
things that's supposedly happening and functioning
well. Things put in rather nicely.

You get shards from every little thing that you do.
You get crazy - happy and wawawa from things
that make you dizzy, and feel ridiculous when you
feel like it.

Vicious cycles, whatnot's and several etceteras, on
certain times you just want to take a break, or
perhaps even stop. But then again, what would the
whole point be, anyway?

Between you and me, I’m the happier one.