Sunday, August 31, 2003

so are we destined to be drawn to the same kind of person over and over to correct past mistakes in failed relationships? so it would appear. i keep getting attracted to the same kind of man. dark-skinned, independent, self-contained, self-made and a bit antisocial. the relationship starts, like all new ones, giddy and exciting. it mounts into intense fireworks...then goes downhill from there. what am i doing wrong? and how many times do i have to go through this to learn my lesson?

Tuesday, August 19, 2003

god has a bone to pick with me. this year has been a lesson in humbling. and without question, i have been humbled. i think s/he's teaching me valuable lessons in giving and in patience. in forgiving also. question is, have i learned anything? wish the learning process weren't so painful.

my damned pride won't let me realize how puny i am as a human. how inconsequential, how irrelevant. my world of course, always revolves around me. but i like it that way. reaching out to other people only seems to cause pain. and an added distraction i can't really afford. but trying to unravel other people is addicting isn't it? and once the mystery is solved? it all seems to go downhill from there.

sometimes i wonder if my brain is even capable of attaining even the slightest bit of immateriality. but i am material, made of flesh and bones. the spiritual seems farfetched, and not quite of this world.

Monday, August 18, 2003


clips of images flash before me.
behind naked eyes,
blindly seeing
the naked lust in yours.

fused mouths flash before me.
the slightly sweet taste
reminds me.
the feel of your lips, your tongue, your teeth
covering my flushed body.

addled by lust, hot flashes
course straight between.
the imprint of you
fused in my head.
the feel of you in my mouth, embedded.

need flashes between.
wanting, craving you and hating
the empty bed, emptiness
of you leaving.

Friday, August 15, 2003

anatomy of emotional disengagment
dead inside you say. heartless you say. incapable of feeling you say. low emotional quotient you say. a classic emotionally retarded male.

a divorce occured in your psyche, in which the part of you that feels is switched off. whether voluntarily or not is debatable. the causes of such divorce might take some time to correctly identify and disentangle. and i am not in the position or frame of mind to do so for you. i have no rights. i have no obligations.

do you suffer the ill-effects of an unhappy childhood? have you learned to turn off that part of you that gets hurt each time you are rejected? is that it? or is it just because you're afraid? of what? of being hurt? we all get hurt. we all have our crosses to bear. we all bleed red.

don't you crave the feeling of closeness sometimes? don't you miss the feeling of belonging to something other than that world inhabited by one? is it worth it? are you happy living in your head? won't you venture out once in a while. being happy means taking risks. it means going out on a limb. it means reaching out and being reached in return. it means turning on those switches you've turned off.

why should you feel the highest of highs if you can't feel the lowest of lows? do you want a flatline? in the middle, seeing nothing. feeling nothing. open your mouth. say something.

Tuesday, August 12, 2003

10 Things I Hate About Funerals

10. funeral parlor agents -- your father is there lying dead in the morgue. even before you're fully coherent of what has happened, like buzzards...funeral parlor agents await you outside, waiting to pounce on you while your guard is down. if u do not have the presence of mind, u'd be robbed of 300,000 pesos on an impersonal funeral service. vultures living off of the dead.

9. mmda rescue team-- first off, they take forever to 'rescue' the victim from the mangled car. so long in fact, the victim doesn't make it to the hospital. second, the fuckers steal all the victim's valuables and money. only in the philippines.

8. bystanders/'witnesses' to nothing-- stupid morons couldn't even take down 3 letters and 3 numbers of a red car. too busy
ogling people inside smashed car. and contemplating how they'll be able to steal from the victims. at least they didn't take my mom's credit cards.

7. capitol medical center clerks in 'admissions'-- they hear you wailing your lungs out. you learn of your father's death. and what do they do?? they continue jabbering on on the phone like insenstive mongrels that they are.

6. money-grubbing relatives-- no decency whatsover. they suck you dry while you'r busy thinking about the specifics of the wake, the legal/paper work, how to feed people, your mother in the hospital. they blindside you....and take as much as they can while you're not thinking clearly. blood is so fucking thick it congeals.

5. maniac priest of sto. domingo church-- theres the dead lying there father, what the fuck are you doing manhandling me and one of my titas?

4. walang hiya former friends of my mom-- there for the spectacle, waiting to see a show. as in, my father's mistress showing up and making a scene in the wake. then they go and harass my mom when she's finally discharged from the hospital. they have the gall to show their faces, act contrite, and expect to be catered to by my mom who's obviously not in any condition to do so. fuckers. dipshits.

3. insensitive highschool classmates-- obviously tactless to ask 'o, ok ka na?' hello. my father just died. stupid. and then they
go on jabbering about beauty pageants and beauty contestants. and then jabber some more while a mass is going on. stupid fucks. who asked you to come anyway?

2. worrying about what to feed people, and how to 'entertain' them-- this has got to be the only country where people come
to wakes at all hours of day/night. dont they have specific veiwing hours in other countries? we have got to rest for crying out loud! and then they come and expect to be catered to like we're hosting a party or something. it is a wake. somebody died. DEAD. as in not coming back. do not expect to be fed red ribbon pastries along with your orange juice.

1. the man lying in the casket is my father.

Thursday, August 07, 2003

my father died. car accident last monday. he and my mom were driving their fancy car. like a reckless kid, he lost control and slammed against this building along edsa. my mom broke her left arm. last week was hell for me. anyway here is the the euology i wrote:

Dear Papa,

Where you are, no pain endures, no troubles worry, no grief abides, no sorrow should linger. Where you are there should only be comfort and peace and love. Where you are, we, your loved ones gathered here, your friends, your family, remember you and celebrate your life, however brief it may be. Where you are, your pure heart reaches us still. Your kind intentions, kind words, kind eyes.

We are here together in solidarity. We are gathered here today, papa, to bid farewell to your earthly remains. Everyone has come to help usher you in, on a new chapter of your life. And in a new chapter of all of our lives. A chapter in which you shall continue to live on through all of us in our memories. A chapter in which you will be watching over all of us in God’s embrace.

People seem to be at a loss, coming up to me, Jon and Mama, thinking of consoling words to say, something they could do to ease the pain. But what does one say to a friend when a loved one has passed away? There are no words to describe our sorrow in your passing. Just like there are no words to take away the grief and make everything right again, back to how it was when you were here with all of us.

So we gather here today, and embrace the pain. Because the pain reminds us all how you were, alive. The pain reminds us how you will be much missed. How you have touched all our lives however briefly. And so we embrace the tight feeling in our chest for it will get us through the toughest times. I know, in my heart, that should the sorrow remain, so too does love for you Papa.

I know Papa would like to thank each and every one of you, for coming here today to see him, and share in the grief of his family. And so, I thank you. Mama thanks you. My brother Jon thanks you. And Papa thanks you.