| Multiple Choice |
[07.09.2008 @ 16.11] |
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i don't remember exactly what the item was asking about. i had at least five choices i think. i read the question again, just to make sure i had it right.
at some point i wanted to ask god about the answer. wham! an epiphany, but i had second thoughts. i didn't want to trouble him for such minute problem. you know with him, you gotta reserve only the best/worst possible scenarios, avoiding the risk of clogging his mailbox.
so, i told myself, not this one. this one i must solve on my own.
_
let's go to choice a. this doesn't make sense at all. why is this part of the choices again? this is way too easy.
then choice b. now, this could be it. it sounds right. yeah, i do remember reading about it. yeah, chapter 4 of something (i tried hard flipping pages from my memory, my dreadful cupboard of memory). but, this is too good to be true. next!
choice c, now this is becoming more complicated. sounds new to me. but it's not obviously wrong, like choice a. it feels right, though. even if i couldn't remember ever seeing it. it seems logical. hmm, let's not rule this one out, not just yet. okay so b and c are in, huh.
now, choice d says all of the above. not an option, even if it's part of the choices. i'm not the stupid greedy type.
lastly, choice e, hah, the opposite of d, it's n.o.t.a. (none of the above). what? why? none of the above? really? they say if it's among the choices, it's most probably the answer.
okay, so this is much harder than i expected. i'm still not calling god for help. i could do this. at least i have the options.
maybe it's easier if it were an essay question. choose something, then defend it. why c? because, blah blah blah, and you know, blah blah blah, plus blah blah blah. okay, 0.5 point for effort. thank you.
i need more time. i need more time.
*tick*tock*tick*tock*
should i go for b? or c? okay, i'm going for b. then i heard kris aquino, "are you sure? deal? sharmaine, please open the case...."
waiiiittt. i'm not sure. don't open the case yet.
E! e? is that it? e?
then kris aquino answered, "you know when you choose e, it's as good as no deal. So what's it going to be?"
YYY
my friend once told me, we should not be faulted for being choosy. truth is, choosing, it's easy; it's committing to your choice that's the difficult part. what if it's wrong? what if it's a mistake? yes, 80% probability that you'll have it wrong. and yes, if you're wrong you might stand trial in front of the vicious Supreme Court of Public Opinion.
we are all afraid. i'm afraid. afraid of what exactly? of going for a second choice? everybody is someone else's second choice.
anyway, i've digressed again. i'm ready to choose. i'm going to shade the box.
"oops sorry, time's up!" says fate, "you're already forty years old. alone."
ugh.
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| Multiple Choice |
[07.09.2008 @ 15.29] |
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“We all have the potential to fall in love a thousand times in our lifetime. It’s easy. The first girl I ever loved was someone I knew in sixth grade. Her name was Missy; we talked about horses. The last girl I love will be someone I haven’t even met yet, probably. They all count. But there are certain people you love who do something else; they define how you classify what love is supposed to feel like. These are the most important people in your life, and you’ll meet maybe four or five of these people over the span of 80 years. But there’s still one more tier to all this; there is always one person you love who becomes that definition. It usually happens retrospectively, but it happens eventually. This is the person who unknowingly sets the template for what you will always love about other people, even if some of these loveable qualities are self-destructive and unreasonable. The person who defines your understanding of love is not inherently different than anyone else, and they’re often just the person you happen to meet the first time you really, really, want to love someone. But that person still wins. They win, and you lose. Because for the rest of your life, they will control how you feel about everyone else.”
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| Up in the tower (Non-fiction) |
[05.09.2008 @ 18.46] |
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The tapsilog he ordered arrived. He asked for some tissue while I put ice on my beer. I watched it float.
“if I want something, I go after it.” He said.
I didn’t think he was referring to the tapsilog on the table. I laughed, in response.
“Why, you don’t?” He asked.
I shook my head, and said nothing.
“What do you do then?” He probed.
“I stay in the tower,” I said, forcing myself not to giggle. (I didn’t just say that. I didn’t just say that. Too late. Way too late.)
GGG
“Tower?”
“Brading my hair.” (it’s a blackhole, I’m losing it. No. must control myself.)
“Ahaha,” He put his hands beside his face, he screamed, “Rapunzel, Rapunzel let down your hair!”
He laughed, I screamed in my head. he got the metaphor and he’s not walking out, I told myself.
I held my ball of imaginary hair and threw it at his general direction.
“You just gotta make sure you drink vitamins for your hair, mabigat ako eh.”
At least he finds humor in it, I told myself.
boy: morning yves..... last nut, d ground was opening up around ur area...hehe...till nxt time ha, have a gr8 day at the tower...:-)
From: C***** P****
+6359855**
AM 10:29 9/5/08
me: what does it mean opening up around my area? Like the earth swallowing me whole? or the crowd giving me some much deserved space? What does it mean!!!
boy: manila water drilling....they opened up entire streets... hehe.
From: C***** P****
+6359855**
AM 10:40 9/5/08
me: hahahaha. overdose of metaphors. Sorry literal pala. Oo mga canal, papalagyan ko ng buwaya for my tower. wehehe.
boy: add sharks, and some piranhas and ur prince will try his best to fly.... :-)
From: C***** P****
+6359855**
AM 11:55 9/5/08
boy: fly to the tower i mean....hehe.
From: C***** P****
+6359855**
PM 12:29 9/5/08
me: i got that the first time. twas the mental picture i found hilarious. hehehe.
♪♪Tatanggapin na lang ba
ang malupit na tadhana♪
O kaya'y tatanggapin
na lang na ako'y sadyang
hindi pinagpala♪♪
♪Tigilan na ang drama,
punasan na ang luha
♪Tumatakbo ang oras
naiiwan na ako♪♪
Ng panahon
Di na nagbago bawat araw♪
Pare-pareho♪♪
♪♪Parang kahapon♪
.
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| The Contract |
[04.09.2008 @ 19.12] |
.
via sms:
Jowein: are we seeing the italian film laters?
Yves: meron ba sabado?
Jowein: meron on Saturday. Although hindi ko bet. French screening.
Yves: may ganon. Kasi may date (yung hindi biro.. yihee..) ako later. Legitimate excuse naman yun diba. Nasa fineprint naman ng friendship contract ang boy before friend
Jowein: yiheeeeeeeee! Then go! I adjure you by the gazelles of the field, GO! Seek happy days and happy nights! (ahahah, pinagsama-sama na ang reference)
Jowein: yun nga ata ang asa bold print.
Kasi hindi namin naman talaga alam ni jowein kung anong "definition" ng date. Kelangan ba mutual yung knowledge? Kapag may pagkain na involved, date ba yun? Kapag hindi mo gusto yung person, pwede bang UNdate yun?
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| Tatlong Mukha ni Eba |
[01.09.2008 @ 21.52] |
Dahil hindi na nga kami marunong mag-meet ng walang nakahandang kamera, o tripod!!! Ngunit hindi inasahang maisasantabi ang tripod dahil mas mabuti pa ring tao ang kumukuha ng aming larawan. Ika nga, maaring sa lamig ang makapal na damit ay sapat, ngunit iba pa rin ang kayang ibigay ng taong nakaakap sa yong balikat.
***
Ang tema:
as planned
SAMPAGUITA PICTURES!
(si jowein ang naatasan na magdala ng abaniko at isang plorerang bulaklak)
ang kinalabasan
SEIKO FILMS!
(bakit kahit anong pagpipigil, lumalabas parin na PORN!)
sa aming mga damdamin
WALA NA SIYA, TANGGAPIN MO NA!
(huwag husgahan ang hindi sinasadyang pag-iirog sa mga kalalakihang taliwas sa nararapat sa kung sino ang nagmamahal)
***
the world is never silent, that's why we rely on musical soundtracks to spice up conversations. some call it a symptom of mental illness, but really, there's nothing wrong with suddenly bursting into songs...
♪di ba't ako'y tao lang♪
♪♪na nadadarang at natutukso rin...♪♪
o kaya
♪♪bakit nga ba mahal kita, kahit na
may mahal ka pang iba...
di mo man ako mahal, eto pa rin ako...♪♪
at eto pa
♪♪ Sayang... bakit ako nag-alinlangan pa
Tuloy ngayo`y lumuluha at nang-hihinayang♪♪
and a 1 and a 2 and a 3!
♪♪ KUNG MAIBABALIK KO LANG...♪
*** 
we thought spending the day together could change our respective tastes fates... maybe cosmic forces could bend to our combined freewill!!
we couldn't be more wrong.
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| Cigarettes and Wooden Bars |
[29.08.2008 @ 23.32] |
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Tonight, i was going to watch *blushes* For the First Time. I wasn't able to go because i went to jail!
I didn't get to watch the movie, but my version of "First Time" came to mind:
ENTRY: 2006-05-30: A Little Brush with the Law
Every so often, I leave the house lighting one stick. Usually, the cigarette lasts for seven minutes; assuming I get on a jeepney after two minutes, I would be smoking four or five more minutes inside the puj. That happens everyday, everytime I go somewhere.
Today, it was different. I was so used to that habit, seriously, and little did I know that I was actually violating a city ordinance. I didn’t know of it until some guy stopped the jeepney and asked me to get down, saying I couldn’t smoke in a PUV, and that I had to get on the police car (or police vehicle because it didn’t really look like a car.)
fffOf course it didn’t really sink in immediately that I was being held by the authorities for real. For a while, I was half-expecting that Ashton Kutcher would suddenly appear. Five minutes inside the police vehicle, with an insipid officer that made no sense whatsoever, made me realize that I wasn’t being Punk’d. Being a literary freak that I am (or maybe just an incessant blogger), the first thought that entered my mind was: “how will I write about this?” The fun thing about being a writer, and an all-time performer, is that given any bad experience, grotesque or just plain embarrassing, I have this delayed initiation of the panic mode. I was even preparing for a speech in case I get interviewed by some famous media personality. The second thought that crossed my mind was: “how do I get out this?” A number of options popped up, of course.
a. the facial stipulation of pity: this involves the panultimate combo of ‘bambi eyes’ and ‘pouting lips’. And then I realized I might only get a smack on the face instead of an actual sympathy.
b. then there was the “powerful connection” brought by either blood relation or mere association. I could say my sister’s boyfriend is a PMAer (true); my mom is super friends with former president Fidel Ramos (semi-true); my dad knows a lot of high-ranking officials from WPD (not true); I am related to former president Cory Aquino (not true either).
c. The “intelligent civilian” tactic. Being educated, and really smart, I could use reasoning to get out of it. I could tell the officer: “The jeepney was empty, which meant I wasn’t disturbing other passengers with my smoking. That being said, the ordinance does not really apply to my context, Mr. Officer, and thus, rendering me innocent of any kind of violation.” But then again, the policeman may not understand me and just assume everything I said was a form of subtle assault (perhaps to his intellect), and therefore negating my chances of being let go altogether.
d. Lastly, the first-offence card. I am no longer a minor, but I’m still a student, which meant that I have something to be clean for, legally speaking. Being a student with no record whatsoever is something to be taken advantage of, and we already know that.
The third thought that I had was: “if I don’t get out of it fast, what will happen to me inside the jail?”
Rape!!!! Waaahhh….
The prison… That collective condition of squalor caged within bars. I couldn’t think anymore, my mind was plagued with malicious possibilities. The shame!!!
The fourth thought that I had occurred when we were already inside a hospital, for our medico-legal examination (we had some medical professional signing a sheet of paper that says we did not have any external wound upon inspection). The thought was: “there was this semi-gorgeous guy with us, how do I talk to him?” I could’ve asked, “What are you in for?” But I realized it sounded stupid. After a few mentally tried questions, I gave up with the idea. I thought, what if we end up together, and we have kids, and grandchildren. What if my grandkids ask how we met?
Meeting someone’s acquaintance where a police car is involved makes things very complicated. It’s just something one can’t be proud of.
The moment i arrived in the police station, i was asked to make my one-phone call. I called up my lawyer-sister.
"Anong nangyari?"
"Nasa police station ako."
"Baket?"
"Basta. Sasabihin mo ba kina papa?"
"Malamang. saan ba yan?"
[afterthought: ask ko kaya ateh ko dalhin ang camera? *checks the station for possible backgrounds* malamang naman ipo-post ko ito, bakit hindi pa kumuha ng pichoor for documentation?]
ff
I waited, sitting on a bench. the policemen were nice enough not to put me literally behind the wooden bars, well not yet. i wasn't scared of being in jail, i was more scared of what my Dad would say when he arrives.
Then i saw my lawyer-sister walk in. Then my mom... Then my dad, wearing his signature unibrow-frowned face. I could just die of humiliation. Noooo... please God, not like this. I'm a grown man, and yet, my parents still scare the shit out of me.
My mom started her litany on why i should be let go. Future. Medicine. Graduating. Words i heard while sitting in the corner, embarassed.
One of the cops saw me, and he actually said, "Wag kang mahiya, nanay mo siya. Alam niya ang sinasabi niya. Wala kang magagawa, ganyan talaga."
In the end, it was obvious i would be let go. Bright future. That's what was said. Something i find ironic. People with bad future don't have it fair. The law says, "if you have a bad future, we'll make it worse for you." Besides, what does it mean bright future? Mother dear, inang mahal, i don't even know what the future holds. Gusto ko na lang mag-artista, to be honest. And you know in showbiz, one day you're in, the next day you're out! Of course i couldn't say that outloud, it wouldn't really help my case. So, for the first time, i guess in a long while, i... for the first time i... [this is hard to spell out]... for the first time i shut up!
After an hour, it was over, the four of us left the police station. Then casually, my mom asked how i was caught. My dad even joked that he thought i peed in public. We all laughed. This is not how i imagined family bonding to be.
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| SLIPPERY AND WET |
[25.08.2008 @ 21.13] |
| [ |
mood |
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 touched |
] |
| [ |
music |
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-flight of the concordes |
] |
Right palm over left, left over right
Maybe the world could be a better place. Everybody says that. I could believe it too, if I wanted to. I could a find a reason, a specific one. like… there must be something. Oh, hi there. Nice seeing you again. I would have wanted to say that out loud but something stopped me. the hesitation, the pause. Suddenly…
Palm to palm, fingers inserted
Our eyes meet, but It’s too late to say anything when my mouth hanged open for too long. So I stand in silence. It’s getting awkward, for the both of us I think, because i can see you looking at me, begging for some form of acknowledgment. But that could be just my imagination. You see, my imagination has been running wild, I find my senses completely unreliable. So I let my hands do the talking…
Back fingers to opposing fingers interlocked
“I missed you, we haven’t spoken in a long time.” Ha! You noticed. Maybe that was just in my head. i couldn’t be sure. Maybe I saw your lips move just a little, but the words escape faster than I could see where they came from. You will ask how I was doing, you’re always the polite one. I hate politeness. Politeness is a whore, i like straightforward brush-off better.
Rotational rubbing of right thumb in left palm and vice-versa
I haven’t taken such a long time doing this, not recently. Yes, I admit, it’s you. The way you hold those hands. I could do this forever, even if it means burning off my skin. I could do this all day. But you couldn’t. I procrastinate. I wondered if you knew who I was. It’s a blessing you don’t have telepathy. Maybe it’s a curse. But I bet you wouldn’t want to get in my head, and find out why I act the way I do, or why I fail to answer even a simple question like, “how are you?”
Tops of fingers and thumb of right hand rotate on left and vice versa
“I’m fine.” Generic responses are all I could offer. At least I got to say something before you leave. My hands never felt so much. I think the web between our fingers is the most sensitive part of our body. I don’t know why.
Repeat the steps, three to five times
i've turned off the faucet. i look at the space between my fingers, making sure i did it right. my hands are clean, so are yours. Now what?
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| There Will Always Be Hours |
[25.08.2008 @ 19.28] |
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“He will not ask the name of the movie star, he actually does not care. Richard, alone among Clarissa’s acquaintance, has no essential interest in famous people. Richard genuinely does not recognize such distinctions. It is, Clarissa thinks, some combination of monumental ego and a kind of savantism. Richard cannot imagine a life more interesting or worthwhile than those being lived by his acquaintances and himself, and for that reason one often feels exalted, expanded, in his presence. He is not one of those egoist who miniaturize others. He is the opposite kind of egotist, driven by grandiosity rather than greed, and if he insist on a version of you that is funnier, stranger, more eccentric and profound than you suspect yourself to be – capable of doing more good and more harm in the world than you’ve ever imagined – it is all but impossible not to believe, at least in his presence and for a while after you’ve left him, that he alone sees through to your essence, weighs your true qualities (not all of which are necessarily flattering – a certain clumsy, childish rudeness is part of his style), and appreciates you more fully than anyone else ever has. It is only after knowing him for some time that you begin to realize you are, to him an essentially fictional character, one that has invested with nearly limitless capacities for tragedy and comedy, not because that is your true nature but because he needs to live in a world peopled by extreme and commanding figures.”
Michael Cunningham
The Hours
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