Sunday, 24 April 2011

Semana Santa

Bursts of self-induced orgasm woke me up from the verisimilitudinous nightmare that I, even at the topmost edge of defiance, fail to extract from the overlapping memories of the same kind of verisimilitudinous, tangible being when awake, as tiny specks of dust nonetheless with a sense of entitlement from the world around us. Even at countless repetition of announcement I still only remembered the occasion partly because; a) there is no class, and b) seemingly every single pawns within the realm of my social network greets with joyous pardon the same kind of action they do when the religion demands it to be so. And as my orgasm waned at the worthless thoughts, I diverted my thoughts into more practical matters worthy of my procrastinations, and so I lingered and rolled in my bed for almost seemingly an hour doing nothing, thinking of devious plots to master deception at its finest for future references or just make myself a late breakfast at four in the afternoon, not minding the two girls with me whether or not they share the same enthusiasm. One girl left with a broken smile, telling me that thesis was more important than a cup of bullshit excuse for a tall tale. I wouldn't mind, I myself am a busy bum, touring the world with wide-open goals of megalomania and a penchant for despair. The other was lost from the eye, probably dozing off somewhere hidden beneath the sheets or at her own comfortable loft, probably brushing that long pigtail of hers and fixing the eye shadows that mark her early grave for pregnancy. I might as well make best out of this Easter thing even without the bunnies and the chocolates, for the clash I had with God sooner made its way faster than any Energizer bunnies could after that.

Easter Christian, the time has come. I'm the only one to say okay. But I'm motoring. Yes, I'm motoring. What's your price for flight?

Friday, 22 April 2011

Timtimang kapalaluan


Hinablot ng mangkukulam ang sinturon ng tagapagligtas ng babaeng kanyang bihag. Ibinalik niya ito sa lalaki ngunit ito na'y naging ahas sa muli niyang paghawak nito. Bigla na lang siyang napatalon palayo sa takot at naging duwag sa mga mata ng prinsesa. Sabi ng prinsesa sa kanyang sarili, 'Hindi ito ang aking tunay na tagapagligtas, sapagkat ako'y ililigtas ng aking iibigin, at ako'y iibigin lamang ng isang tunay na matapang na mandirigma.'

Samakatuwid pinaalis niya mismo ang lalaki sa kanyang harapan, na siyang napahiya nang dahil lamang sa sinturong naging ahas. Umuwi itong bigo at durog ang damdaming umaasa sa kamay ng prinsesang nasa panganib. Hindi niya lubos maisip kung bakit pinili pa ng babae na tiisin ang hirap na dulot ng kapangyarihan ng mangkukulam kaysa sa inaalok nitong tulong, ngunit hindi niya kayang tanggihan ang kahilingan ng babae, sapagkat ang babae ang siyang laging ginagalang kahit na'y ito'y nasa landas na hindi wasto.

Ilang araw ang lumipas at matamlay na ang prinsesa sa kakahintay ng kanyang prinsipeng tagapagligtas. Minsa'y inisip niyang tanggapin na lamang ang alok ng nakaraang duwag na lumaban para sa kanya kahit papaano, ngunit kinumbinsi niya ang kanyang sarili na kailangang magtiis. Ito ang tanging paraan ng isang martir. Ang dikta ng kanyang puso'y mas nanaisin niyang sundin kaysa sa payo ng kanyang utak. At ang sinasabi ng kanyang utak ay gawin ang praktikal na gawain ng isang taong nag-iisip. Hindi nagtagal ay lumalabo na ang dati niyang kagandahan. Bawat oras na lumilipas ay lalong kumukulubot ang kanyang balat, habang ang mangkukulam naman ay magalak na nakataas ang kamay hawak ang mahiwagang baston, na siya ring balat ay lalong kumikinis at namumuputi ng tatluhin sa nakaraang edad. Ang dating magulo at tumatandang, puting buhok ay ngayo'y naging makaharing itim, kumikislap sa ilaw na gawa ng baston, at tumutuwid na parang tunay na inaruga at ginuguan. Bago pa mang tuluyang naglaho ang kanyang kagandaha'y naisipan na niyang basagin ang kanyang pananahimik.

'Bruha, ako'y nakikiusap sa iyo. Kunin mo na ang lahat sa akin maliban na lamang sa aking mala-tsokolateng mga mata. Ito na lang ang natitira kong kayamanan sa buhay na nanaisin kong bigyang halaga.'

At naglaho ang ilaw na nagmumula sa baston. Tumigil ang mangkukulam sa kanyang pinaggagawa't tinuunan ng pansin ang babaeng kailan lang ay pantasya ng bawat kalalakihan sa mundo. Lumapit ito sa babae at hinablot ang malabuto nitong mga kamay palapit sa kanya.

'Nakikilala ko itong mga kamay, iha, sabi ng mangkukulam. 'Parang kahapon lang na ako'y nangarap tulad mo.' At siya'y napangiti sa kanyang mukha't para bang nandidiri. 'Bakit mo tinakwil ang tulong ng prinsipe? Hindi mo ba alam na siya lamang ang natitirang pag-asa mo sapagkat ako'y tanyag sa buong mundo bilang mamamatay-kabalyero. Ikaw ma'y tanyag dahil sa iyong kagandahan, ako naman'y tanyag dahil sa aking mapangahas na pamamaraan.' Umuuko man ang balat ng takipmata ng prinsesa'y pilit nitong binubuksan ang mga mata upang makita harap-harapan ng wasto ang kanyang taga-kitil. 'Ngunit ako'y hindi kabalyero, bruha.'

Napangisngis ang mangkukulam, at binitawan nito ang kamay na muntik ng madurog sa sobrang lambot. Dahan-dahan itong tumayo at napatalikod. Gamit ang baston, bigla na lamang niyang hinampas ang babae sa tagiliran ng napakalakas, at sa sobrang lakas ay napatulak ang katawan nito sa malayo. Sa sobra niyang pagkahina ay hindi na niyang magawang bumangon, at sa pagkabigla'y hindi na niya nagawan ilagan ang hampas. Ngunit ang prinsesa'y nananatiling gising at ngayo'y lalo pang nanginginig dahil na rin sa takot na mamatay at sa takot sanhi ng matinding paghihirap sa kamay ng kanyang mang-aapi. Lumapit muli ang mangkukulam sa harap ng prinsesa't nakatitig ito ng nakakabahalang mga matang nakatingin sa mata niyang simbolo ng natitira niyang pagmamahal at pagkatao.

'Kung tunay mong ninanais ang aking mga mata'y kunin mo na ang aking buhay,' binulas ng prinsesa.

'Aanhin ko ang matang walang buhay?' tanong ng mangkukulam. 'Mas nanaisin kong ito'y kunin mula sa iyo habang ika'y gising nang makita mo ang kaya kong gawin. At siyempre ako'y nagbibiro nang sinabi kong makikita mo iyon.' At siya'y napatawa ng matindi. Kahit gumanda man ang hitsura ng mangkukulam, hindi pa rin nito mawala-wala ang mga kinagawian nang siya'y nasa dati pa niyang posisyon. Katulad na lamang ng kanyang halakhak at pagyuko, nakadilat at mala-kahoy nitong mga daliri. Nang nakuntento na ang bruha'y bumalik na ito sa dati niyang seryosong tindig, at ulit nakahukay ang mga mata sa mga mata ng prinsesa. 'Hindi mo na kakailanganin pa ang iyong mga mata.'

At alam na ng prinsesa ang binabalak ng mangkukulam. Ito'y humahagulhol at humihingi ng huling pagkakataon. Pinipilit nitong ipagsaksakan at kaawaan, ngunit nakailaw na muli ang baston, at sa kabila ng pagmamakaawa'y nakabalik na ang pagngisngis sa mukha ng bruha.

Makalipas ang ilang mga sandali ay nagising muli ang prinsesa, ngunit nang binuksan niya ang kanyang mga mata'y nasa gitna pa rin siya ng kadiliman, na para bang pinatay ang ilaw ng lubusan. At bumalik sa kanyang alaala ang kanyang naranasan sa kamay ng mangkukulam. Hindi na niya maramdaman ang mabigat na kinalalagyan ng bruha, at siya ngayo'y nag-iisa na lamang at hindi alam kung nasaan. Tinapik niya ang sahig gamit ang malabutong nga daliri at naramdaman ang sakit ng tigas ng bato na umalab sa kanyang katawan. Kinailangan niyang lumapat gamit ang kanyang pang-amoy, pandinig at pandamdam, ngunit ang lahat ng ito'y hindi na katulad ng dati, dahil siya ngayo'y hinablot mula sa kanyang totoong katawan. Pilit niyang tumayo at nang hindi niya nakayana'y gumapang ito hanggang sa napauntog ang kanyang ulo sa isang puno sa kanyang harapan na inakala niyang bato sa mapanindig na balahibong hapdi. Sinubukan niyang sumandal na lamang sa puno at magpahinga, natuyo ng lubos ang buo niyang lakas at naghihingalo. Ninais na lamang niyang mamatay ngunit natatakot pa rin siya sa ideyang ito. Mas nanaisin niyang bumalik sa dati niyang anyo, ngunit alam niyang hindi tatagal ay siya ring wawakas. Namumuo ang poot sa kanyang damdamin dahil wala siyang nagawa para ito'y pigilan, ang lalong tumaas ang kanyang inis nang inaalala niya ang lahat ng kanyang mga manliligaw na hindi man lang sumipot at lahat ng ito'y totoong palang mga duwag. Paano na lamang ang itinakda para sa kanya? Akala niya kasi lahat ng tao may kapalarang natatapos sa kaligayahan. At nang siya'y nagising sa katotohana'y hindi niya na magawang iwasto pa ang kanyang mga pighati. Pinikit niya ang kanyang matang hindi na naroon, at siya'y muli napaidlip, at siya'y muling nagising sa pagpatak ng ulan sa kanyang mukha.

Nagsilbing kanlungan niya ang punong kinauupuan niya, ngunit hindi ito sapat para siya'y pangalagaan. Inalon pa rin siya ng malakas na ihip ng hangin at nilunod ng hindi mapahintong unos.

Kinabukasan, nang siya'y muling magising sa hindi niya malaman-laman na lugar, sinipa na siya ng kutob na ito na ang magiging araw ng kanyang pagkasawi. Hindi na niya makakayanan pa ang isang ulit ng pangyayari tulad ng huli. Binitag niya ang kanyang mga paa sa ilalim ng buhangin upang siya'y mapanatili sa iisang lugar. Nagbigay-dasal siya para sa kanyang sarili at sa kanyang kaluluwa, na siya'y makahanap ng katahimikan sa kabila ng namumuo niyang poot. At nang maalala niya ang lahat ng bagay na nagbibigay-inis sa kanyang puso ay siya'y biglang napaluha, at sa hindi niya maipaliwanag na pangyayari'y natuklasan niyang kahit ang bulag kaya palang umiyak. At siya'y parang tinamaan ng bakal na hinagpis na inilaban sa batong awa. Siya'y napalagay sa tahimik. At naalala niya sa kanyang huling sandali ang lalaking kanyang tinakwil, at siya'y humingi ng paumanhin, bago pinisil ng langgam sa kanyang noo ang huli niyang hininga, at siya'y pumanaw ng mapayapa.

Ilang taon ang nakalipas, balita na hinalay ng iilang mga kabalyero ang napapabalitang tunay na mangkukulam at pinuksa't pinugutan ng ulo't sinunog ang mala-tsokolateng mga mata. Hindi na nila natagpuan ang bangkay ng prinsesang nawawala, ngunit may nakapagsasabing may isang punong tinutubuan ng kulay-lila na mansanas, at sa ilalim ng punong ito'y may umuusbong na ugat, at sa tuwing umuula'y may lumalabas na babaeng may dalang umiilaw na baston. Ngunit walang makapagpapatunay rito marahil dahil na rin ito'y haka-haka lamang, ngunit nakakabahala ang balita tungkol sa baston sapagkat hindi nila nahanap ang mismong baston ng bruhang kanilang pinaslang. Pero nagpatuloy ang kanilang mga buhay ng normal at matiwasay hanggang sa dumating ang puntong kinalimutan na nila ang lahat.

Thursday, 21 April 2011

Doubleplus ungood

Somebody once told me that I only get to experience once the perfect moment of elation. He, while in a state of drunken stupor, in many ways, was talking mainly of my life in romance, but the words he uttered stuck on me and lingered for years to come. Not to mention he was a drug addict at that. Assuming that the guy was a whore too would not be impossible. Those were some of the darkest times behind me that I am glad to have pursued despite the anguish. Even at that instance of weakness, I still managed to have personal control over my influences and was even respected for that overall. At that one moment, we were exchanging rum with water, and the heat flowing into our gastrointestinal tracts kept us awake long enough to stand and walk for miles in a warm, sunny day in the wild. I should not even have to defend the idea but I have to admit, it kept me hoping up until this point.

I can not even remember his face anymore, let alone his name. And in some ways I consumed his spirit into me, and I let his essence frolic within me to give comfort and hope to the neverending prayer of redemption, that one of these days my tide will turn for the better and that his words serve as the prophetic mark for salvation. I grow weary and exhausted the more I lingered, and the more I breathe, the more the unfortunate truth bears the stigma, and I realise the folly that Thomas kept on mentioning, and my endurance turns adulterated, and now introduced in a whole new perspective of contrition.

I stopped hoping long before today, but not completely withdrawing the possibility. It reflects in many ways the concept of theology in general, and my own point of view to the whole array of debatable order of things. That evasive moment of elation may have to wait, I reckon, but the ease of having to accept that it might not be fully possible comes more naturally as maturity progresses. That is how I learn to grow up. In moments of depressing migraine, I understand even in quarters of percentages. The sorrow of having to leave that youth behind is overwhelming at times, and even that is a point in learning. We learn because we believe, and that belief suddenly fails. If we have nothing to believe in the first place then obviously there is nothing to gain. It is a whole new process of elimination.

I see the opposing window open from my balcony across the edifice and a blonde, seemingly fit woman with sky blue spaghetti shirt walks out and lets her arms rest with the bars that support her balcony. She glances left and right, back and forth, with no purpose, and goes back in ten seconds later, probably realising the chill the evening wind provokes, and then I realise the chill myself and I look back and see my window swinging to and fro. I did not even have the time to finish the coffee beside me. As a matter of fact, I do not like coffee. I do not like the practise of inflicting more headaches upon my own to stabilise my mental acuity. The opportunity presents itself and even multiplies the adverse effects with a simultaneous groaning. I enter my room to meet the bed that betrayed me the night before without even so of an apology. The relationship in tension resonated all across the space like warm, fuzzy gas, and I told myself at least I do not necessarily have to rest my eyes tonight benumbed.

The anvil that rests within my chest is the only foolish thing remaining that keeps me apart, and I am currently in the process of separating that anxiety. The fresh wound still gobbles up the bigotry of the brains apart from mine, and reconciliation proves irrelevant no matter how sincere. Whenever I speak in riddles, it always brings me to calm, mostly because of the security it possesses. I have no qualms whatsoever and I prepare myself for the backlash ahead. I look around now and I see blurry images of skyscraper lights blinking from the horizon, as if it signifies a calling. These are the moments I need to avoid, because whenever my sentimentality fries itself into overdrive then I go whirling into an abyss of madness, stunting the growth of my development and wasting precious time that could have been made for something else worthy. And I stared at the light for a couple more seconds convincing myself to learn from past infractions. It never stopped blinking even as my eyes deviated into the sad tractor below, in a middle of an empty space, unused. Reminds me of someone dear I used to know. Sarcasm, of course, for it is apparently obvious who I am referring to. Or is it?

The windows across the balcony now light up yellow as time passes forming squares of blocks similar to that game about elimination and survival. I kept my room as decrepit as it was the moment I entered so as not to attract unwarranted attention to anything or anyone. The foul stench of brine bounced off the walls and back, including even the salty presence of sweat and semen. I put my hands under my chin and lie on the floor feeling the shaky range of motion, the pent-up emotions and such, not even considering a common earthquake to be a possibility. My mind has made up its prejudices and has closed itself away from the barren tracts that lay outside, it lands on my feet. I no longer have control over my cognition as it clearly announced its rebellion earlier today. I wished myself more hatred to counter the opposing hatred, because love was not an option. And options are not a means of last resort. My vocal senses were astray due to the multiplying pain, and miscommunication is inevitable. I could not handle the clash of words, I could not be denied. If I snap, I lose, and if I fall meek, I go misanthropic. Either way I lose, whichever way leads me doomed to failure. Perhaps I am not as gifted as I thought I was. The illusion is as illusion was today. Like I am waking up awake in a dream sleeping, wave after wave of paradoxes. I shifted my weight to the corner raising both my arms to acknowledge my participation, and at the direst point the consequences remained the same. Branded am I as the et al of the wheels of fail. Never hardened, always mismanaged, forever doomed, still fortunate enough to not be homeless for some reason, or probably a nasty joke from the wide list of Peter reprimanding all the other cherubims for having been so meticulously unworthy of otherworldly wisdom. The lights were almost at my reach when I happen to come across an excruciating pain in the abdominal region, usually perpetrated by none other than milk for some reason, perhaps as silly as that joke-from-heaven theory earlier. My face could almost taste my face which was oily as ever, almost to a degree of ugliness. I bellowed a loud roar to impose the image, probably convincing myself there was still hope hidden within the pretentiousness of the initiations, hurting myself wondering how the light manages to keep still even at night.

The brine still causes that uneasy smell which I tend to ignore. My legs were too lazy to respond even though the knee-jerk reaction from having to sit idly for long minutes forces itself to move, even though it is merely sliding sideways. My eyes now burn like hydrochloric acid as I stare blankly into the space. With nothing to respond, it is nearly impossible to acknowledge each and every antagonists that protrude from out of nowhere. The darkness felt to me like home, and my breath grew thinner but milder. The suffocating silence except for the wind and button clicks made it seem slightly relevant, and I am back to that whole moment of longing once more. I remember the whispers of wisdom from an addict, revolving around my head as it did a few hours before, only now supplied by the darkness from which it stemmed, from which it opposes, from which its purpose is supposed to negate. I said goodbye to the sun for now until I come back again. The thirst has made me demand a moment's rest. I close my eyes and nothing changed.

Nothing is necessary anymore

The last words were spoken, and the regrets came flowing in like vein cut off from the supply and now gasping for its depending nutrition, unknowingly killing the final ounce of life from within. The dry, coarse throat made a final screech and that imposing rage, no matter how strong, was still inadequate and nevertheless weak. The loss at that point was overbearing, attacking its host slowly before it moves to annihilate completely the empty cartridges of blood. The hydrocephalic head burst upon impact, and the score was totally nullified. It was not about the humiliation or the point of attack, moreso the execution, the will to succeed and the unwillingness of willpower itself. For whatever purpose mental sharpness served it was never evident, and now set the stage for chance's funeral. An undead metaphor to serve as the reminder of conflicting loss. The tragedy of storytelling.

The eyes were not blind, and neither were of course the audiences'. For whatever its worth convincing the mind that pain does not linger is unbecoming, for there will always be moments that it will, no matter how far the tall steps take. Mend, mayhap a yes, but forgotten eternal.

Monday, 18 April 2011

Game of Thrones

Midget and boobs, blood and swords, arrows and wolves. Speaking of canines, doggies and twins! Geddit? Doggy, twins. Twins in doggies! (cue in Snoop Dogg's Sensual Seduction background music) Incest! Hot!! I mean, eww.

That's the pilot episode of Game of Thrones folks.

Saturday, 16 April 2011

Loiter

Find myself waking up in darkness, checks the clock, it says '4 a.m.' I return to sleep.

Find myself waking up in light, checks the clock, it says '8 a.m.' Still I return to sleep.

Wakes up at around 11, only to figure out there's not much to figure out. My next appointment is still at 15, and I'm left with nothing to do. Whenever I hear a sound from the outside it frightens me. The bossy idiots from the outside would engulf me whole and I would never want to stir another anxiety, not yet.

So I sit idly in my bed and wait.

Friday, 15 April 2011

Fallen on deaf ears

It was all too much brown. I stared at it long enough for me to understand that there wasn't anything much in it but the same old things over and over, and because of that I personally learned how to manage my own advocacies tighter than I previously would, meaning that I wouldn't have had the same amount of results if I only pursued the more drastic solutions. I have already fallen way to deep into that gaping hole, no wonder the people you see are nothing more but just puppets to the trade and the whatnot, and of course that includes the people I personally know as well. In many theoretical ways, I myself may be a puppet, but does a puppet really think?

On the other side of the brown was the radiating but slowly fading powers of the yellow of the sun, understandably so since I started gazing at that massive ball ten past six in the evening, and the wind recalls an uneasy whisper to the spring heat, something that I no longer would like to look forward to as much as possible. Within that realm of the ideas I concocted up something vile and sinister, and it's not normally the case for the Peter, Paul and Mary's of the world, but for me what I stand for and stand up against is the natural stream of indignation ever evident wherever a person may sit or stand or crawl or lie, that somehow that choice has totally been lifted, and the democracy was all just a bunch of bitch ass lies to control what is rightfully and politically correct. That's just absurd. I'm a human being too, I feel, I fuck, I shit. You may not fuck but you can't entirely blame me for that. You most likely are a loser, pathetic and squealing for all the right and wrong treatments which already has long been spoonfed equally amongst every single one, and you, who, being in that... condition..., makes absolutely no sense if only to me, just because... really, there is no because. The motion of these ideas revolve around the psychedelic, fickle nature of the blue. Of which none have managed to overcome. Of which really is neutral in all bounds.

Just when I think that I lowered myself enough for everyone to bear, there comes another one to top it all off, and one that calls for immediate suspension of everything critical, just because nobody is able to accept or let go of their own convictions. Something has to give in, but it's easier said than done. Within the sluts that formed a circle were the more unconventional sort that lack a certain aspect called talent, and now everybody pays the price of having to bear that guilt, for they are the bulwark of closet shit and big, black cocks which quite frankly is none of my fucking concern at all. These are what constitutes blue. Blue for the same reason that it acts the same way as the method intervenes, meaning there is no immediate concern for the party involved in the predicament, but for the same reason that lies within their hardfill convictions that totally demands utmost satisfaction, then the others have to pay the ultimate disaster of having to unify the leftover nuggets in the table, moreso complicating further the initial pavement for the demise. If only one or two sons and bitches would just step forward and with a clean intention just say 'fuck yeah' in front of all the live audience then no one would have strained each other's vein and cause hysteria amongst everyone. And then it blinked. And I stared. It was no longer there, well, it was but it's always blinking in and out, so to speak. In the middle I have no right of intervention. The pacifist gets the worst treatment of all. It's totally useless and irrelevant. The individual voice will prevail, though only to one specific individual, ironically the one that introduces it. And once the red has finally shown its face to establish order, it will sadly befall on to deaf ears. Call me misogynistic, but fuck...

The wheels behind the white chassis begin to turn, and the red is dead hot into following its trails of defeat. Overcoming the inglorious nature of the probable cause would be the next step to take but for now the main concern, for me anyway, is to just jump into my own subjugated opinions, something I have recently and obviously been lacking honestly. Only because the burn before the freeze does not really fully justify the effort, and it somehow frustrates my nature, their nature, or some sort of internal switch that needs to stand up and say, 'Yes, no, fuck that, you cunt, I love you.' What happens is that it goes back and forth like broken vinyl, playing three seconds of a dumb lyric repeatedly to the point of madness. And now the red destroys all the others, but none of it demands victory, for there was without a single ounce of effort involved, only shattered order led by a number of ghouls looking to satisfy their own pleasure and god-fucking-damn-it survival. Then the bright colour harnesses the essences of all the others, in-breaths both the positive and negative aspects of many things including compassion, beauty, and pomposity. It is no longer evil, for whatever the shit becomes turn into the ideal norm no matter how twisted and convoluted the images are. There will be no more for discussion, the point has been made. All I have to do is sit and relax, as much as I can, and swallow it deep into my pride, blow a middle finger up Marquis de Sade's ass, and have a pint of Corona once all has been said and done.

Thursday, 14 April 2011

Proyekto: Bahaghari


Kanina’y naglakad patungo sa hagdang walang katapusan ang aking mga paa’t ngayon ko lamang napansing malapit na palang mapudpod ang kapal ng aking tsinelas. Hindi ko na matandaan ang unang beses na ako’y tumayo at saka gumapang sa daang hindi ko man lang naisip tawirin. Nagising na lamang ako sa katotohanang ako’y nag-iisa, naglalakbay sa mala-gintong bundok na aking kinatatayuan. Ako’y napangiti, napatingin sa aking paligid, at guminhawa ng malalim, at biglang napaisip kung ako ba’y nananaginip o gising.

Hindi nagtagal ay may narinig akong boses na galing sa malayo’t umaalingasaw sa hangin na parang amoy ng malansang isda sa palengke. Pilit ko mang intindihin ang sinasabi nito ay hindi ko magawa, na para bang ako’y niloloko ng aking kapaligiran, na para bang pinaglalaruan ng gintong bundok na ito ang aking isipan. Hangarin ko lamang ay magpahinga sapagka’t ako’y napapagod at nagugutom, at hindi ko alam ang aking unang gagawin. Kung ako ay nasa aking panaginip ay kinakailangang magising na ako. Hindi ko gusto ang mga ganitong panaginip na ako’y nag-iisa’t walang makausap. Mas gugustuhin ko pang managinip ng multo o aswang, iyon naman ay haka-haka lamang at kayang ihiwalay sa totoong buhay. Subalit ang mga ganitong panaginip ay mahirap ihambing sa pagbukas ng mata dahil mahirap ikumpara’t ihiwalay ang alin sa alin. Maaaring ako’y gising na hindi ko lang maalala at ito ang aking katotohanan, maaari ding sa ngayon, o maaari ding maging. Bukas ay may pasok pa ako sa trabaho. Minsan na nga lang ako nagsisipag, ito pa ang mangyayari sa akin?

Maya-maya’y lalong lumakas ang boses. At sa bawat bagsak ng kanyang salita ay lalong napapasayaw ang aking dibdib sa hindi magandang paraan. Ako’y nagsimulang kinabahan na walang dahilan. Biglang gumalaw ang lupa sa bawat salitang paulit-ulit na sinasambit ng boses na ito, at ako’y nangamba na para sa aking kaligtasan. Gusto kong tumakbo, ngunit saan? Gusto kong magising sa panaginip, pero kailan? Hinipan ng lumalakas na hangin ang aking magulong buhok at mabigat na bilbil, at sa mga oras na iyon ay inilawan ng araw ang aking mukha. At siyempre ako’y napatingin ng mahusay, hindi ko hangad na gantimpalaan ng grasya mula sa kalangitan. Bumalik ako sa biglang tahimik, at ang boses ay lalong humina, ang idlip ng buwan pumalit sa sikat ng maselang araw.

Sinimulan ko ang aking paglalakbay sa pamamagitan ng aking mga mata. Minamasdan ko ng mabuti ang aking paligid, kung may daan, o may lihim na maaring tinatago ang aking kutob. Kumuha ako ng ligaw na dahon sa lupa at sa hindi inaasahang paraa’y naalala ko ang aking iniwang pusa sa bahay. Sa aking isipa’y pinadalhan ko ng sulat ang aking alaga’t sinabing ako’y kanyang patawarin, na sana’y maintindihan niyang mahal ko siya higit pa sa aking sarili kahit hindi ko man araw-araw banggitin. Hanggang kailan lang, hanggang kailan ba, na ako ay mananatili rito’t kailangan ko pa siyang aalagaan.

Kasama ang maliit na dahong masipag, ako’y naglakad pababa patungo sa maberde at tahimik na ilog na naroon, ako’y nagbigay-dasal para sa aking kaligtasan at sa kaligtasan ng bawat nilalang sa buong mundo, sapagkat ako’y hindi matakaw at lumaki akong may paninindigang lagi kong gagampanan panghabang-buhay, na ako’y susunod hindi sa batas ng aking bansa o sa alin mang komunidad na aking kinalalakihan kundi batas ng pag-ibig, para sa aking sarili at sa lahat ng bagay na nagbibigay-ganda sa bawat bagay, maliit man o malaki, na itinaguyod ko ng buong-buo mula pa ng ako’y magkamulat sa mapangahas na reputasyon ng mundo. Habang iniisip ko ang mga bagay na ganito ay lalong tumatatag ang aking puso’t isipan. Hindi ko matiis isiping ako’y gawa ng lupa na aking kinatatayuan, at darating ang panahon na ako’y babalik rito’t mamamaalam para gamitin din ng iba para sa kanilang sariling makamundong paglalakbay. Bumalik ang malakas na boses. At mabilis ito’t lumalakas sa bawat galaw na para bang hangad nitong ako’y saktan. At ang boses na ito’y sumisipol sa aking tainga. Muntik ko na ngang maramdamang sumabog ang boses sa aking harapan ng biglang parang may sumipa sa aking mga paa’t ito’y napagalaw na hindi ko hinangad.

Hindi ko alam kung ano ang napasok sa aking isipan ngunit ako’y bigla na lamang napatalon ng wala sa oras at pagplano sa ilog. Hindi ko man lang din inisip ang lalim at kung may mga peligrosong hayop na nakatambay sa ilalim ng tubig at sumisisid, naghahanap ng karneng maaaring magbigay sustansiya sa kanilang tiyang hindi naman kayang busugin. Binuksan ko ang aking mga mata habang lumalangoy, kahit mahirap, at mabilisang sinipa ng malakas ang alon patungo sa kinailaliman. Dumaplis ang koral sa aking mukha’t nagulat, ngunit hindi man lang ako nakahanap ng niisang isda doon maliban sa mga batong buhay. Paubos na ang hangin sa loob ng aking bibig ng ako’y hinigop ng buhay ng mga halamang-dagat. Inikot nila ang kanilang mahabang mga kamay sa aking katawan at binalot ako gamit ang mga nakakapanindig-balahibong halaman na parang kanin. Hindi na ako nakailag sa bilis ng mga pangyayari. Ako’y napalaban ng husto, ngunit hindi rin nagtagal ang aking lakas, at ako’y nahimatay sa katagalan, nilamon ng buo’t dahan-dahang dumilim ang aking mundo’t isipan, na para bang lahat ng ito’y totoo, at kung totoo ma’y ako’y nagkamali sa isang bahagi ng aking buhay. Nais kong alamin ito’t baguhin, ihalintuwid at ayusin, nang ako’y malagay sa tahimik.

Nagising na lang ako bigla sa malambot na kama ng isang ospital. Ang unang bagay na bumulaga sa akin ay ang mukha ng isang mala-anghel na nars na nakatitig sa akin dala itong napakalapad na ngiti na ngayon ko lang naranasang maari palang mangyari sa isang tulad ko. ‘Kumusta?’ ang una niyang sinabi sa akin. Ako’y nagdedeliryo’t hindi malaman ang reaksyon. Sinubukan kong magsalita pero hindi ko mahanap ang sapat na lakas. Hindi nagtagal at muling naubos ang aking lakas, napatulog sa kamang mahimbing at bago pa man nangyari ang lahat ng iyon ay may ninakaw pa akong pagdarasal na sanang hindi na ako managinip pa ng mga hindi nakakaaliw na laro ng isip.

Isang malahiganteng puno ang gumulantang sa aking harapan ng ako’y magkamalay. Ako nama’y nakatayo lamang sa harapan nito’t nagmukhang mangmang. Sa ikalawang pagkakataon, wala akong makitang sinuman o anuman kahit saan maliban sa akin at ang puno, ngunit kami’y nakatayo sa berde’t mahalimuyak na parte ng isang tahimik na bukirin. Pinisil ko ang aking mukha sa pagbabaka-sakaling ako’y muling magising ngayong sigurado na akong ako’y tila nananaginip lamang. Ang totoo kong katawan ay nakahiga sa isang ospital at ako’y nag-aagaw-buhay.

Teka nga, paano ba nagsimula iyon?

Hindi ko na maalala. Sa ngayon ang hindi ko lubos maintindihan ay kung bakit ako’y naririto kasama ang malaking puno sa aking harapan. Bumalik ang simoy ng hangin nang ginalaw ko ang aking mga kamay sa parehong direksyon, at ang masikat na dilaw na araw sa itaas ay umakyat nang ginalaw ko ang kabila.

‘Sa lahat ay halatang-halata, ika’y hindi pa handa.’

Ako’y napalingon sa pinanggalingan ng mala-lalaking boses na hindi ko makilala ngunit wala namang tao kahit saan. Nagtataka, ako’y muling napahinto’t pinagmatiyagan ng mabuti ang aking kapaligiran. Ngayong nagsisimula na akong makarinig ng mga boses sa aking isipan. Ako ba ay nababaliw? Maaari nga siguro. Pero kung ganoon, ako ay hindi baliw, sapagkat kung ako ma’y totoong baliw, hindi ko maaring sabihing ako’y baliw, dahil hindi alam ng totoong baliw na siya nga’y baliw. Ako’y hindi baliw, pero nakakarinig ng mga boses sa aking isipan. Ano ako?

‘At hindi ka baliw,’ sabi ng boses. ‘Ako ang puno na tambayan ng sisiw. At ako’y ikaw sapagkat ako’y nanggagaling sa iyo. Ako’y gawa mo gamit ng iyong mundo.’

Nagsasalita na puno! At alam nito ang aking iniisip! Ako nga’y baliw!

‘Ikaw ay naguguluhan, tila nga ganyan,’ sabi ng puno. ‘Ngunit huwag kang mangamba, ako ay ang iyong alaala.’

Ako ma’y naninibago’t nananatiling naguguluhan, naalala kong ako pala’y nananaginip. Lahat ng mga bagay ay posible sa isang panaginip, sabi ko sa aking sarili, at pilit kong inayos ang aking bait at napatanong sa puno, 

‘Pero hindi kita lubos maintindihan.’

‘Ang buhay mo ay unti-unting nauubos, ang dating sigla ngayo’y pulbos,’ sagot ng puno.

Naaalala ko ang aking sariling nakahiga sa kama ng ospital. Pansin ko nga ang sinasabi ng puno, pero hindi nito sinagot ng mabuti ang aking tanong, pero sabi ko rito’y, ‘Hindi maganda iyan!’

‘Unang-una, huwag kang magulat. Gawa ka sa sarili mong aklat. Pangalawa ako’y ikaw, alam mo mismo kung paano ang galaw. Pangatlo naririto ako para iwasto ang mali, pero sa kalagayan mo kailangan mong magmadali.’

‘Anong ibig mong sabihing mali?’

‘Iyon ang misteryong nakabalot, nasa puso mo ang sagot.’

Hindi ko pa rin naintindihan ang bugtong ng higanteng punuan. Maya-maya’y umikot ang aking kapaligiran na parang hinigop ng alimpuyo. Hindi na ako nabahalang nakakasiguro na akong ako’y nananaginip lamang. Nang ako’y muling nagising, ako’y nakabalik na sa kama ng ospital. At ang una kong nakita sa pagbukas ng aking mga mata’y ang makinaryang tagapayo ng kalagayan ng pintig ng aking puso.

Price

The healthy human mind doesn't wake up in the morning thinking this is its last day on Earth. But I think that's a luxury, not a curse. To know you're close to the end is a kind of freedom. Good time to take... inventory. Outgunned. Outnumbered. Out of our minds on a suicide mission, but the sands and rocks here stained with thousands of years of warfare... they will remember us for this. Because out of all our vast array of nightmares, this is the one we choose for ourselves. We go forward like a breath exhaled from the Earth. With vigour in our hearts and one goal in sight: We will kill him. 

Wednesday, 13 April 2011

Colour


2011: A Space Lab Odyssey

Bedevilled

I Saw The Devil and Bedevilled are both quality Korean movies. I must say it is a must watch. That's all.

Tuesday, 12 April 2011

Devilsent

So I just took interest in rehearsing and devising this piece called A Warm Welcome by Rowan Atkinson, which is a character standup piece that features the devil in a three-minute monologue, that he used as an icebreaker for his live performance from years ago. A very funny one at that, obviously hard to top, but that's not the objective.

And then two movies, both of Korean nature, comes to me recently also bears the concept of the devil in both theme and title, I Saw The Devil and Bedevilled. What is it with the devil anyway? 

I Saw The Devil reunites my telly with Choi Min-Sik of Oldboy fame, a movie I just recently re-watched a couple of weeks back to introduce to a friend how amazing that movie was and still is.

Anyway I just found it really disturbing that these devilish pieces almost revolved at the same moment together when I am already working on one that has in a way similar concept. Still thinking if there are any other relation but for now I've pointed out the more obvious ones.

Sunday, 10 April 2011

Demagogue

"What am I to you?"
Those were the last words
The last time we met
The first time unvoiced
It echoes on and on
Moving our lives farther
Unknown territories
Here and there
Cries of despair
Longing and passion
Whenever the phone rings
The sweet smell of cigarette
Turbo fuels my lungs
She stands still
Like time on my shoulder
Like a fan on spring
Playing on mother's snore
Music to the ears
Food for the fist
Maddening rage for he
He who does not pray
To a god who does not sin
And the woman who lusts
Wherever I go
I hear her gulping
Another man's semen
Down the throat
Fucking deep into
Not care but defeat
It fails to stretch the lies
The truth and the wise
Time flies
He cries, I cry
You die
Why
Fly
I

Sunday, 3 April 2011

Solipsism

Blurry images. Blowing past like cornflakes. It all covered the minutes. Foster's in hand. Lots of Foster's. Heavy. Blush past people in queue. Embarrassing. Back to walking. The usual. Short walks.

Few minutes. Knock on the door. No answer. See a doorbell. Diminutive, inadequate. Lift finger to press it. Presses once. Wait. No answer. Two minutes. Press again. Answer.

Hug. Presence unbecoming, hormonal instability increase by the minute. Rush, not late, but still. Familiar sight of location guaranteed. There he was, a brother in spirit. No acknowledgement or hello. Yet. Lift feet and mustered enough courage. Don't let fail warrant success now. Acknowledgement and hello.

Familiar woman. Good lord woman. Sweet bejesus, almighty, heavenly woman. Recalling past memories.  Know now. Just fucking wow.

Smell of flesh burning. Glance left. There it is. Meat, sweet meat. Not too much, can't help it. Social interaction taking longer than usual. High time for establishment of acquaintances. Try harder. Distraction. Her hair. His hair. Meat and beer and everything in between. Fun while it lasted. Music be bygones. Not for long. Say hello to months. Hours brush by in haste. Vibe of music overwhelms. Echo of violin in the air, savvy.

Amazing. Talent when it looks in the eye. Suppression of pride, anxiety, unbecoming, behooving. Enter piano, guitar. Throw night away. There it is. Camaraderie.

Woman. Good god, woman. Good bad, woman. Trail blazer up and coming. Sense of departure building up. No, not now. Woman.

On with the music. Music is life, maybe not mine, but still. Understanding underflow.

Say hello. Say goodbye. Time is wasting. Defiant in scope.

Women.

Saturday, 2 April 2011

Mass Effect

Just finished my first playthrough of the game. What an amazing universe it surely is. Starting my second but insanity at the beginning is just fucking hell. I will correct my wrongs with new game plus with my femshep. Stupid Jack and some unknown crew including that slut Kelly died. But first I have to go rogue with a male Shepard, try out the renegade path. As asshole an asshole can be, even going so far as killing Wrex from the get-go, hah!

Search and destroy