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Voyeur

Published on January 17, 2012 in Fiction, Narratives, Sketches, Stream of Consciousness, Tagalog and Thoughts. 0 Comments

——

Water is dripping down from the faucet.

I am a cat and I am thinking of it now. I am running to and fro and I think of cherries and raisins. I shit grape-sized shit every Saturday and eat helpless mice every Thursday.

Water is still dripping from the faucet. I must catch it and play with it.

I honestly hate my owners and their terrible, terrible taste in music. Marina and the Diamonds, like, seriously? I would have enjoyed Crystal Castles or Lords of Acid but Marina? Good Lord!

I am now walking on the counter, reaching my paw to the water dripping down from the faucet. I caught it! I caught the water! But wait—

I think of jars and vases and the joyous feeling of walking behind them and breaking them all.

Crash! Crash! Beautiful jars and vases on the floor — now shards and fragments, now ugly, now worthless.

But wait! There are still more water dripping from the faucet! I must catch every water!

I must put all water from the faucet to my paws!

——

I am invisible. I watch you undress in your bedroom. My eyes, carefully tracking your pants as they slither down the curves of your legs. Your arms effortlessly reach your back to unhook thy bra, revealing the unobstructed line of your spine, it’s fluidity, gently flowing down towards your full, swollen…ass.

I am transparent and you are opaque. You convince the universe that you are real with the way you block the sunshine and cast obstinate shadows.

I am glass and you are concrete. You create vacuum, I let light in.

You are real and I am not.

——

Written on a piece of scrap scattered on my bedroom floor:

Bakit di ako maka-lakad?
Wala ka kasing paa.

Bakit di ako maka-text?
Wala ka kasing load.

Bakit di ako maka-sulat?
Wala ka kasing panulat.

Bakit di ako makatulog?
Wala ka kasing mata.

19

Published on January 8, 2012 in Personal. 0 Comments

I turned 19 yesterday and that was it. When my parents came home at night, my mother went straight to my room and asked if I already ate the spaghetti she cooked for me. I said no. Then she stayed for a few minutes, looking at my Design plate I was doing (and still doing) on SketchUp. She went on asking and commenting about the Sports Complex I was designing and then finally reaching her point: “You’re already 19,” she said. “the end of your being a teenager.” No reaction from me. “I mean, you’re getting old. You should know already what’s right or wrong and what’s good or bad for you.” I shrugged.

Finally, she stood up and emptied my room with just me and my design plate. All pieces of furniture seem irrelevant. In few minutes, I went out of my room to get some spaghetti. To tell the truth, I don’t know what’s good and bad for me. Or I know but most people just won’t agree with me. Or I don’t know but most people know.

I wish wish wash

Published on January 4, 2012 in Sabaw. 0 Comments

Mother, you are driving too fast!
Mother, slow down a little bit…please?!
Mother, if this was a Delorean we would have landed in 2233 two minutes ago, in Riverside in Iowa witnessing the birth of Jim Kirk. We’d be like the three wise men giving baby Jim three gifts from the grocery bag:
First, Avon Naturals hand and body lotion
Second, VFresh, malamig sa bibig
Third, Jhonson’s baby powder.

Cat, what are you doing?! Cat, sometimes I wish were not born as a cat. Sometimes, I wish you were a dog. A nautilus. A narwhal. A Formula 1 race car. A Lionel Messi. A hat. A canister. A gum. A 16mm diameter reinforcement bar. A baluster. A 2″ x 12″ stringer. A piece of roofing clay tile from Vigan falling on a friar’s balding head on a sunny afternoon in Callejon Dos. A vinyl. A floor slab. A 15″ x 20″ tracing paper. A bullet piercing through my lover’s broken heart. A wristwatch. An Irish wristwatch. Irish wristwatch. Irish wristwatch. Say it faster. Irish wristwatch. Irish wristwatch. Irishwristwatch. Say it mightily, as mighty as the pen is mightier than the sword. Say it with brute. Say it with love. Say it with anguish, agony, lust, and pain. Say it like a mutherfucker. I-rish Wrist-watch. Ay-rish Rist-watch. Ay-rish Wish-wash. Ay-wish Wish-wash. Putang ina mo, hindi ako si Gloc 9. Tao lang ako, marunong din mabulol. Ano ba kase ang kinalaman ng relong galing Ireland sa buhay ng tao? Ang pagsabi ba nito ay parang pagbigkas ng mga dasal at ritwal habang kumakatay ng buhay na manok sa harap ni Ginang Alatiit na pumapatay ng kuting sa bawat maling bigkas, baybay, at pag-gamit ng parirala? Meron ba itong metapisikal na pahayag sa sangkatauhan? May kinalaman ba ito sa totoong kahulugan ng buhay, mundo, at ng kalawakan? Querida ba talaga ni Son Goku si Sailor Moon? Five minutes left. Okay, pass your papers. One, two, three…punyeta naman ma’am sakit sa bangs! Punyemas! Sige ganito na lang, itaas ang mga kamay at sabay-sabay tayong bumuo ng energy ball.

Lights and smoke

Published on January 2, 2012 in Good times, Poetry, Sketches and Stream of Consciousness. 1 Comment






Oh how I wish I was high.
Happy New Year humans!

—

An invalid traveler travels with a bag as big as Jupiter is big to Mars. Stay at home, will you?! Good riddance! In two days I will be atop a mountain and I will ask the guide to push my wheelchair for me so I can have the ride of my life and I can die like a waterfall — die with full honor intact like a raindrop left to fall on the ground to be part of the flood.

On travelling

Published on December 30, 2011 in Personal, Random, Thoughts and Travels. 0 Comments

1.
2:18 in the morning. In a bus, destination: up north. And when I say up north, I do not mean Fairview or Novaliches. I mean Pangasinan with all the four to five-hour ride and views of farmlands and mountains and farm animals and more farmlands. A circuit of diffusing rain droplets paints the laminated window panels. A Spanish action movie on TV. All passengers sleep except for me. Somewhere, the bus stops and a woman rides and asks me, is this seat taken? I said no and she sat down beside me and slept.

2.
When you take a picture here, I mean anywhere in the pearl of the orient, people stare.

3.
I have come into conclusion that Jeepneys are sent by the demons as part of an evil plan to extinguish all my countrymen. I would have sworn to never ride any jeepney again in my life but their evil plans have been successful, it has been a necessity.

4.
In contrary, I love bus rides. When I get rich, I will buy a bus. A fucking bus and frolic around the Philippines and hit all Jeepneys committing reckless imprudence resulting to damage to properties of evil and dark magic. I am such a superhero.