Wednesday, August 5, 2009

J wants to have a haircut

She had made it long since her first year in the institution. Maybe it had grown into her. That she had to make it long until somebody would notice.

When asked if she plans to have her hair curled or rebonded, J would say nothing. She just want it unruly, messy, long and brown. Until one day, N noticed that it had grown longer, longer than J would want it.

N finally noticed. J would have her hair cut, finally.

Monday, July 20, 2009

Down with Mami








Somebody told me that cold rains are associated with cold hearts. That made me sad. I love rain. I am not a sunshine buff because I hate sweat. No, I don't like typhoons and storms. I love the cool breeze of the drizzling rain.

So one cold night, Andrew and I chowed down a bowl of pork mami. It made me sweat. Maybe, the feeling of cold would make you want to sweat. I did. And I miss you.














Friday, July 3, 2009

Rachel

You have lied. You tried to explain everything as if nothing is wrong. You tried. You tried everything. blade.knife.pills. nothing.no avail.

you explained to them why your dear mp4 player is damaged. yes,a friend brokeit face down. but the other crack? you said it slipped off from one of youar sweaty palms. but you threw your mp4 away. after numbers of cigarette you can't remember how many, you threw the mp4 away. you thougt it will never come to life and will never sing toyou again. but it did. you again listened to his songs. slowly serenading you, you fell into a deep slumber and assured your mp4 you'll never throw him away again.

you explained why you had your first absent for the semester. blabbing them that you'll be going somewhere. half-naked with lie, they accepted you blabbers. little did they know that you were upthe highest building in Ortigas, singing as the mocking breeze told you to jump. you were never acrophopic. the only thing you were afraid of are frogs and maybe, death. it has been etched into your mind that death is the next great adventure. you want to try death. there would be no pain of course. you laughed at the breeze, looked down at the sight and cried. your first this year.

maybe they will never understand what you feel. they will never understand how it feels when you only have a pillow to cry on during the darkest hours of you life.
now, rachel, explain to me what really happened.

This is shit.

I have to find a new home. Somehow.
I can't abandon you. Not now.

Monday, January 26, 2009

Mga Tula mula kay Melamine Mania

pasensya ka na d., tinamaan ka na naman ng inihagis kong sama ng loob. pasensya ka na dahil habang tumatanda yata ako ay lalong tumitindi ang kawalan ko ng kontrol sa labis na galit. dalawang linggo lang ang nakalipas ay binasag ko naman sa harap mo ang basong pinag-iipunan natin ng barya. ewan ko ba, pero lumalala ang kagustuhan kong magbasag ng mga bagay kung magagalit ako ng sobra,

o/lalo kung hindi mo maiintindihan ang gusto kong sabihin sa'yo.pasensya ka na dahil alam kong hindi mo naman mahuhulaan na gusto kong samahan mo akong salubungin ang pagtatapos ng paborito nating buwan: disyembre. sabi mo nga, ang problema sa akin ay napipipi ako ng sobrang galit. kung gaanong kagaan ang kamay ko sa paghahagis ng mga bagay sa pader, siya namang ilap ng boses kong magpaliwanag o magtanong.

hindi ko maintindihan kung bakit hinahayaan mo akong itrato ka ng ganito. parati kong sinusubok ang iyong limitasyon. hindi ko na mabilang ang beses na ipinahiya kita sa mall. iniwan kitang nag-aantay sa taas ng escalator dahil lang sa may nasabi kang hindi ko sinang-ayunan. ilang beses na rin kitang sinigawan dahil paulit-ulit kang nagpapatranslate ng mga salitang ingles sa tagalog. wala akong pasensya sa iyo dahil hindi ka kasingtalas ng mga kaibigan ko. 75 ang pinakamataas na grade mo noong hayskul.paglipas ng ilang oras, humuhupa rin naman ang galit ko saiyo at pinagsisihan ko ang mga masasakit na salitang tinext ko sayo. hindi ka naman nagagalit o kahit nagtatampo manlang. umaalis ka at bumabalik ka.
tulad ko.

isang tulang nahanap sa world wide web.

BAGAHE
Tula ni Axel Pinpin
Wala tayong narinig sa isa’t-isanoong una mong paglisandahil kung anong higpit ng ating mga yakapsiya namang luwag nang pagpatak ng luhasa di nagpantay nating mga pisngi;waring nalimutan ng ating mga labiang kanyang “mag-iingat” at “hanggang sa muli”.Naalala na nating ngumiti at magbilinsa ikalawa mong paglipad.

Naroon pa rin ang higpit ng yakap ng pagtanggapat hibi ng mga luhang parang di nasasanay;nawika mo sa unang elektronikong liham:“Kuya, tayo na lang yata ang umiiyak ‘pag nasa airport,pinatahan na ang iba ng pangako ng dolyar.”Higit na pinaghiwalay ng rehas at ng iyong pag-ibigang paalaman natin sa pinakahuli mong biyahe.

Pinagulang na rin ng karanasan ang iyong yakapat ang luha mo noo’y pang-unawa ang hanap.Sa mensahe mo bago ka lumulan ng eroplano:“Kuya, over-baggaged ako. Mabigat ang kalamay,at alamang. Kung pwede sana, di ko na dalhin ang pag-aalalasa iyong paglaya, sa ating pamilya, sa aking kasintahanat sa ating Bayan.”

MELAMINE MANIA

A blog entry dedicated to me.

ENDING IT ALL
By: Kris Canimo
(http://chaospilot.net)

you woke up at three a.m. with a heavy and odd feeling; blue and yellow was playing on the background. after pulling out your earphones, you sat up and began to think. but the contemplating has gone to far and out of hand that you were now mentally counting your problems — and they swarmed you at their fastest pace: money, love, family, friends, job, family, love, money, love, money, money, money. the gravity of your problems was improbable to handle, you said. and the problems you tried to drown with alcohol last night had found their way back, and now, they were torturing you like hell.

you have never been this confused. thinking that this was the easiest thing to do, you let out a silent sob; the ticking of your clock that hung lifelessly on the wall reverberated around the room — punctuating your every sorrow. grief. and agony.

you surveyed the room. there was a chaos of everything in your desk. crumpled papers, most of them were clean as new, products of your attempts to write a sensible feature article. an ashtray filled marlboro lights smoked down to the filter. coffee stains left by your recent mug. and more cigarettes arranged in awkward variations.

you lit one cig and started to look for answers. you surveyed your room again, this time, thoroughly. you saw a blade, and then a shiny, presumably sharp, knife, and a pillbox which contained something you knew as sleeping pills. thus, your choices were (a) mildly brutal, (b) absolutely brutal, and (c) not-so-brutal. just when you needed it the most, you smiled at the thought. you took your last drag from your stick and you chose the third option.

you wanted to end it all. all the pain and all the problem. you swallowed a handful of sleeping pills and went back to bed. you put on your earphones again and heard the scientist playing as you dive in to your deepest slumber. the pills slowly sedated your senses. everything has started to blur, and the scientist was still playing, fading.

you woke up at three p.m. with the same heavy and odd feeling. you have never been this confused. you surveyed your room and lit one cigarette and started to look for answers. after your failed attempt to end all pain and problems, you chose something brutal this time.

For Rachel, with apologies.

Friday, January 2, 2009







-article to follow. Ü