may umuugong sa paligid mo. ginigising ka... katahimikan.

naglalarong himas ng dila sa iyong tainga. tumatawag.

bumangon at pakiramdaman ang haplos ng init,

ng araw, ng kape, ng nagbabagang abo ng sigarilyo.

ang araw na kinabukasa'y

parang bulaklak,

na naiahon sa tubig,

parang buhay.

i have an interesting psychological experiment in the works. the subject... why, myself of course, since i couldn't find anyone crazy enough, or sane enough - depending on which glass you're looking through. the objective - study the different stages of desire and subsequent denial as it progresses and develops into what? - we do not know.

the method - not eating burgers.

i have had this unusual craving for a bart burger, loaded with coleslaw, cheese, double patties and a generous serving of chili con carne. unusual because i've let that craving run for so long - 4 weeks now, and everytime i get the chance i deny it. oh no, i don't deny it in the sense that i forget that it is there. on the contrary, i accept it, relish it, twist it around and splash it all over my face. and yet, i choose NOT to act on it. i even went so far yesterday as to stand in front of a burger machine stall... smell the burgers cooking... and NOT purchase one at all.

crazy, i know... but the interesting part about it is... it has progressed. now, i'm not just craving for a bart burger. i'm craving for any burger that will satisfy this hunger for ground chunks of meat, or worms... depending on which... seasoned with pepper, fixed with eggs and flour, with the odd bit of pimiento imbedded. a quarter pounder, a brother's pounder, a xxx burger, my god even a big mac will do.

but no, i must remain steadfast. as the craving progresses, so will my denial increase to match its intensity. then... i will lean back and study.

or rather... just crazy...

has been a whirlwind past weeks and i am still having difficulty making out the back of my hand in front of me. the storm has not abated, nor do i see it weakening any moment soon.

in fact, it may even get a wee bit stronger before it finally implodes and leave to happen one of two situations - a. me, wet and shivering, alone but surviving, or b. me, ground to dust, smashed to bits on the rocky precipices of fate, carried piecemeal in chains by the lashing winds and the stinging rain.

the night is darkest before the dawn. i believe i have entered one of the darkest phases of my life. both inside and outside. one cannot take a step with closed eyes. you'll only start going on in circles - but i guess that beats doing nothing. there's a road that i've been laying out brick by brick. i just need to turn the streetlights on again...

it seems interesting how one could find love in the most unexpected of places; and when one finds it, it is with such force one could scarcely fathom its limits.

this is my love story. a cacophony of rapid twists and ends; one would shake her head at the wonder of it all, for it to end, and start like this.

i reflect, on the current state of affairs. i bullshit you not when i say i have never felt this before (have i just forgotten? that's a question for another day). what i mean is, i have never felt this state of being loved to such an intensity that i feel, and i see, that she is willing to, and does, give all she has (and before you think that, STOP!). i used to think i was the only one capable, or willing, to do just that. perhaps i had demanded too much then. or was i blind? be that as it may, i am at this juncture, and this is how i feel.

i do not think it is as base as a matter of trust. if it were, a slight hesitation, as if willing to put feet forward que-sera-sera, will be apparent. it is not faith, for even that carries a hint of fatalism in the offing. no, this is pure and simple, a love deep enough that it is willing to realize itself, and herself, through and with, the totality of us.

she has not given up herself. on the contrary, she has given all of herself and received emancipation in return. a weird state of mind to find in your silent smoking balcony partner of long passing - sans conversation (redundancy to prove my point); of one who had hated you and had dismissed you at the outset; of one who had thought that you were nothing but just there - an object there, and with which thought you held her in return.

and what of me? the loved? the one who had bungled through life and ended thinking that this sort of unconditionality and willingness is reserved for me to do alone, that i am surprised at being the recipient of such? what does one such as i do in this case?

i would treasure it as one who encounters a most unique, novel, and life-changing situation does. cherish it, for it is almost never the case that one is loved as one does. i am realistic - if we do not end up together, i wil remember that, once in my life i had been deserving enough to receive this.

this is my love story.

this morning, she gave me her engraved pen. in that simple act, as i looked into her eyes, i knew...

how can you be sure that you are where you are? where is here? and where is that a thing that disappears leaves no trace?

?

the questions that one asks when faced with silence, a pack of cigarettes, and 35 degrees in the shade.

meanings, nuances, the purpose of life, love... especially. i've found the answer to the last. now to the other things.

puff... puff...

we walk through life as is... and ofttimes we fail to notice how society is governed by flimsy sheets of paper until it stares us right in the face and slap us silly by their ever-present self-importance.

for example, money. in order to live a practical, normal, simple human life in our capitalistic society, people must have money - Thoreau forgive me. Sad, but that is the way that it is. we, the enlightened beings of art and science must needs eat too;  and since we'd rather not practice our art, or science, grubbing along fields and pottering amidst refuse, we apply to that ultimate vehicle of everything, that quintessential butler without which we could acquire no service - money.

we let the money fly, food appears in our midst. pass the money along, we gather electricity to power our electric guitars and light our lamps to paint by. this is the modern day aladdin's lamp. we can get more than three wishes, as long as we don't exhaust the bloody genie.

why am i ranting...? because now i have none. in order to get more genies to power my lamp, i will have to obtain a job. and jobs are pretty difficult to come by even to a person of my skills and qualifications if you don't have that other slip of paper - the diploma.

i was at an unprintable company earlier this morning, thinking i'll just breeze through their qualification exams, dazzle them in the interviews, and basically just go back out the door with a stamp on my forehead - "HIRED." but no! i was hindered from even taking the exam by a glaring omission on my application form - date graduated. well, serves me right for attempting to apply for minor head honcho as opposed to ass-licking CSR, but you get my point.

so here i am... writing, instead of working. worrying, instead of enjoying. playing guitar by memory because the power's disconnected...

i'm happy.

am i already too jaded?

once again i am confronted with the idea of my own mortality - a glimpse of bright red, as i tuck my handkerchief back into my pocket.

it strikes me as neither odious nor as an object of yearning. in fact, it strikes me not at all.

it may be that i have accepted the fact that all human beings, all life for that matter, comes into existence with a "best before" seal stamped into its forehead. the dates are a little blurry, but the fact remains that the seal exists. it may also be that i feel i have lived, not to the fullest, but just lived, enough to sample everything life has to offer... and pronounce everything not worth this day-to-day dreariness we put ourselves through.

i cannot answer the question. i cannot even bring myself to care...

Glistening.
   water droplets oozing,
from gangrenous pustules cover
   your being.

Quivering.
   you think you slake thirst,
but with every quenching
   comes a deeper emptiness.

Purifying.
   the sacred cleanse
disappears with a putrid
   stench of decay.

And you become emptiness.

   You become decay.

      You. cease to exist.

pumatak ang ulan nang wala ka,
   libong pagpatak ng luha sa mukha ng mundo,
matamis, malamig at mapait,
   nakiramay ang langit sa iyong pag-alis.

bumuhos ang unos nang wala ka,
   isang agos na papawi sa kasiyahan,
mabilis, nakagugulat na hagupit,
   ng dalamhati ng ulap sa hakbang mong palayo.

rumagasa ang bagyo nang wala ka,
   delubyong luminis sa kadenang dugo,
malakas, nakaiipit, humahagod,
   ang pagsigaw ng hangin sa pagbalik mo.

umikot ang mundo nang wala ka,
   itinapon ang dagat sa kalangitan,
malumanay, mabulabog na pagdating,
   ng ulang umiiyak sa iyong kawalan.