Saturday, November 22, 2003

it is 2.46 am. i cannot spend one night without having my subconcious rise up and slap me in my sleep. all it takes is one dream to remind me of all the hurting, all the resentments, how deep the old hurts lie. the pain is so real it has made me want to get out of bed to write.

i am taking this as a sign. my suboncious' way of self-preservation. it must be something important, for my own self to stop me from heading down another pathway of self-destruction. all the warning bells are ringing. so loudly i cannot go back to sleep upon the abrupt way i have been wrenched out of slumber. waking with a start, my heart pounding in urgency. it is probably wise to take the hint from the nightmare.

it is telling me, there is no such thing as an innocent conversation. it is screaming at me, even though you miss him nothing has changed, it is telling me, even though he says he misses you it means absolutely nothing, it is imploring me to realize, i cannot possibly survive another heartbreak again.

Thursday, November 20, 2003

park bench

like parc bagatelle, inside the bois de vincennes, this huge park on the left side of paris, the park we are at is virtually empty. there are no people in sight for hundreds of meters. the sun is shining, but its not too warm. and we are sitting on this wooden bench, under huge trees with lime green leaves. taking a rest from walking we sit down to prolong the day we are spending together. letting this stolen moment linger for a while, before you and i must part ways.

i lay my head on your shoulder and we are whispering to each other. theres some laughter in there too, but i dont know what we are laughing about. i want to be close with you, i say. you look at me and smile. i climb on your lap, my legs on either sides of your waist, and put my arms on your shoulders. am i heavy, i ask. you say no, your weight on me feels like a blessing. i laugh a little. how corny you get sometimes. but your face tells me the truth. we continue with our talk.

my long white skirt is hiked up to my thighs, and i am swinging my dangling legs. you have your hands under my skirt, on the side of my thighs, touching my skin, tracing small circles. i say, stop that it tickles. you stop moving your fingers. we stop talking for a while, i just put my arms around you and you pull me closer, your arms around my hips. the only thing we hear is the quiet sounds of the park, some birds, wind blowing through leaves. my head is buried in the front of your shirt, and i am savoring how you smell, taking in the moment, filing every little detail in my mind, from how warm it is where our bodies are touching to how your breath feels touching my nape when you exhale.

i raise my head and i look at your lips. how soft they look to me today. they are the same lips ive been seeing for a while. but today they seem more inviting, softer. less harsh. they part in a smile and i cannot help but kiss them. you yield to me and open your mouth. like always when we kiss, there is only your lips and tongue and mine. the ambient sounds drop away, and there is only you and me breathing.

your taste has marked me, i crave it, i say. you say nothing, only look at my forehead to kiss. your hands roam restless on my hips and thighs, hidden under my long flowing skirt. there is an urgency to them. a last gasp of air for the drowning. you clench your fingers and i feel pain. your nails will mark me i know. there will be reddish half moons when i look in the morning. but this moment i ignore the small discomfort and concentrate on feeling. i feel you pull me yet even closer. so close it is unbearable. yet so right. we fit you and i. this close to you and your warmth, smelling your skin, tasting your mouth i begin to weep. you look into my eyes and you say, what blessing.

i raise my head to the heavens and silently pray for succor. more time with you, more time. you bow your head to feel my pulse with your lips. your tongue caresses my skin like worship. why must you leave, i say. wider your mouth opens to bite. i am getting no answer from you i know. and with such pleasure you cause me i forget. when you put your mouth on me like that, everything else is eclipsed. and there is only you putting your marks on me. touching me places where no one else has dared. and i wonder, why must god be so cruel?

i feel like crying, when you run your fingers through my hair, and whisper to me, everything will be ok. i dont say anything, just hug you a little bit tighter, inhale deeper. i am memorizing how you smell, how your chest vibrates when you talk. if i could i want to melt right into you, and take you with me when i leave, i say. you look into my eyes and say again, everything will be ok. it is not a promise and i leave no room to hope. like my faith, something i have lost in a long time, loving you is dreaming.

Tuesday, November 18, 2003

love story

im putting my hair up, i took a shower bout an hour ago, and its still wet. ive been deciding the whole afternoon whether to go somewhere or not. i was wondering whether to go to church, after all its only about a 10 minute walk from the house. but im afraid ill get the same feeling i do when i enter a place of worship. a feeling of...a little bit of hollowness.

i wish i dreamt of him last night. but i didnt. if i did, then i dont remember it. but when i woke up, my usual morning ritual of thinking about him kept me in bed, my eyes closed but my mind awake. i wondered how his day went, i wondered what he thought about, the things he saw, the people he spoke with. i wondered if he ever rides the metro. i dont think i asked. because ive pictured us, together in the metro, in one of the train cars. going home from somewhere. im wearing a skirt, like i know ill want to wear for him, to show off my legs, lol. its short, maybe a little too short, but he doesnt mind. the train car is full, its the afternoon rush. and we squeeze in. obviously, there are no more seats, and we were content to stand facing each other squashed in between other people. we look at each other and talk, bout how our day went, how fun it was, although, my mind never quite got into details as to what the conversation was about.

the train is shaking, moving from left to right as the winding tunnels turn, our bodies sway with the movement too. someone bumped me from the back and i press closer to him. he looks at me and smiles, i smile too. it was warm in the train car, but it was warmer in the places where we pressed against each other. we're still talking, and im looking at his lips, fascinated by the way theyre moving. i probably tuned out of what he was saying, it was all probably just sweet talk, but im concentrated on how his lips are moving. i wanted to touch them, and touch them with my own lips. to see if they're as soft as they look like.

a lady on his left side stood up, and a seat was freed, he hurriedly sat on it and he pulled me to sit on his lap, sideways, since i am wearing a short narrow skirt. he puts his right hand on top of it, on my lap, to keep it from inching up. and his left he places on my back. i have my right arm around his shoulder, at the back of his neck, my left on top of his hand on my lap. we're still talking, oblivious of the people around us. theyre so quiet, and it seems our voices filled the car. but we didnt care.

im running my fingers to and fro, on the back of his hand. his hand seems so big compared to mine. big and dark and strong, and those fingers. his middle finger somewhat bent. lol. but i caress that too. he keeps his hand on my lap, telling me to sit still because im swinging my legs again. he said to stop it or my skirt will inch higher. i just smile. but i stop swinging.

i lay my head on his shoulder, i said i was tired, he said he knows. i asked him if i was too heavy maybe i was making his thighs numb. he laughed and said its ok, i like u sitting on me. lol. i laughed. our voices were more quiet, almost whispering, but it seemed loud in the car. why werent the people talking??

i move my head a little higher, so i can smell the skin on his neck. he doesnt put on cologne, but i love the smell of his soap. i inhale deep then exhale. he says to stop it, it tickles. lol. i laughed. i still inhale, but not so deep, so i wont tickle him. i move my head a little closer and touch his neck with my mouth, making talking motions with them but not making a sound. he asked what r u doing? i said, i just wanted to feel ur skin with my lips. u smile, but ur hand is moving up and down my back now. and u move ur head a little to the right to shield what im doing to u from view. but it seemed no one was paying attention anyway.

i flick out my tongue a little bit to taste...tastes a little salty. lol. but i lick some more. u laugh quietly, but u dont say anything this time. ur hands just move...slower on my back. and ur right hand on my lap is turned up to twine ur fingers with mine. and u breathe a little faster, more shallow. im thinking, am i turning him on? lol. my tongue is making little tiny circling motions on his neck. i wanted to bite right into it. so...i did. just a little nibble. i open my mouth wider and my teeth squeeze, not too much, because i dont want to hurt him. but enough so he'll feel it. hes not laughing anymore. my mouth is completely open, pressed against his neck, my teeth biting him, my tongue flicking out to taste. lol. am i driving him mad i wondered. but he couldnt do a thing, since we were in a public place, with a traincar-full of strangers.

lol, heres the train stop...seemed to take forever to get here. everyones rushing out the door, eager to go their own separate ways, eager to go home maybe. but he and i are in no hurry, we wait for the car to empty, we didnt have to wait long. i stand up, and he does too. we're smiling into each others eyes. i use the back of my hand to wipe at his neck. lol. i made such a mess on ur neck sweetie, i said. we step out of the car, but hes making me walk in front of him, his hands placed low on my hips. i wondered why. lol.

Sunday, November 16, 2003

slap me awake. i am half in sleeping. the strange warmth of this november evening is making me uneasy in my skin. there is moisture in the air and it rests heavy on my body. i lay here looking up my ceiling thinking, what am i missing?

there is that pile of work on the bed beside me, it needs to be done but i cannot seem to summon the energy to open the books and begin. i know it will lay there until tomorrow, until i find the enthusiasm. i shift and lay on my left side. there is the television and i am looking at my reflection on the gray screen. i need a haircut, my locks are too long. so heavy when its wet, it is cumbersome. why am i wasting here?

i see me blinking at myself. i lift the corners of my lips and pout. then smile. then pout. then smile. i laugh at myself. but being silly cannot seem to dispel the sense of not...being well. i raise my right hand to touch my hair. it feels smooth to the touch and i am pleased. i smile again, but the fleeting second of pleasure doesn't quite reach my eyes. i see.

should i turn it on? and unthinkingly spend the evening flipping through channels again? like last night. like the previous nights before. i am bored out of my wits. and yet, lethargy has set in and has made camp in my body. it is not going away until i am jolted back into the exigencies of reality. work, school, work, school. i am swimming in monotony. will i ever succumb to drowning?

i am tanned from the weekend under the sun. i move my hand away from playing with my locks and slide it down my neck. moist. a thin film of sweat. my index finger makes its way downwards and feels my pulse. i am alive by all means. bored witless, adrift and lonely, but alive.

Tuesday, November 04, 2003

i had 32 students this semester. two got an F. i got an irate phonecall from a mother today. wondering, hoping i would change her grown-up son's grade. i was sitting here wondering, what the hell is this woman doing giving me a guilt-trip for quite possibly 'ruining her son's life'?!? she pleaded her son's case, saying he isn't such a bad boy, that he isn't the type to kill people. but what the hell does that have to do with me?

her son was fond of skipping class and not handing in his homework. he flunked all his exams, his finals and his final orals. what was this dude expecting? mana from me? she said he only needed one more point to reach the required qpi since he's already in probation, otherwise he would be kicked out. i said, your son is a grown man. he is going to have to learn to be accountable for his actions and take responsibility. she said something to rebuke what i said. im thinking, this dude is the way he is, all of 18 years, because his mother is doing her best to coddle him and keep him a child.

Monday, November 03, 2003

october 31, 7:30 pm

my first time in a cemetery this year. eternal gardens is crowded and dark. the minute we entered the gates it started pouring..and pouring. then when we were finally able to get a parking space reasonably near my father's grave the electricity went out. nice huh. it was like a bad omen. good thing we brought lots of candles with us. ate dinner in the car for crying out loud. miserable, cold and dark.

in 20 minutes, after the dinner were supposed to eat near the grave, out under the evening sky, the rain stopped. out everybody went. not a difficult time finding the grave. was next to this huge tree. it was cool, and the electricity came back. we were in good spirits.

i've always known all soul's day was like a fiesta. but i havent really been to the cemetery visiting a deceased member of the family. well it certainly felt like a party of sorts. the crematorium right smack in the middle served as a paging/sounds area. danceable music blaring...pages of people looking for people here and there. was....light. the dude on the speaker was funny. damn, the pages were funny "para kay ramon...umuwi ka na raw. nanganak na ang asawa mo" or "nawawalang black jacket na may wallet sa loob. pakibalik lang daw dito sa paging area. kahit na lisensya na lang, kunin nyo na ang pera." without the paging person's inflection...isnt half as funny.

so like i child, all i did was sit on the grass next to my father's grave. playing with the candles. made shapes with the wax. for almost 4 hours. walked around the cemetery a lil bit. looked at people. listened to music. smoked some kretek. i thought about my father, but no sadness there. i remember thinking, i suppose we'll have to do this every year from now on. not bad for a first.