*ikaw ay...

*para pa rin kay b, kay f, o kay p.

then the smile for men.

You told me once
about the entities of the space
that smiled with suspicion
for the world, then
for its men, then
for its women, then
for its children, then
for us, men,

Then

I am now in
no position to tell you
about the entity of space
that smiled with pain
for the world, then
for its men, then
for its women, then
for its children, then
for the man

Because everything was,
then.

ending con tricks.

To you, at whatever state you are now
Spare me the gesture
Of your being having known.
Avoid the trick of pretense,
Of enrapturing specs turning poison
As each beats the ears
Or touches these eyes.

To you, huckster who once
Knocked on my door,
Selling one’s self for affection. Die
In my memory.

To you, the entity who
Continuously resides in me,
Dance in harmony with absence
And loosen me from the ties
Of hokum lies.

To you, who made me forget
The things that I deserve
Must end en bloc, until I can
No longer memorize.

from mulino, or.

Joseph woke me up in my house today. He was dressed for the warm weather, looking good and very laid back. I, on the other hand, was sporting my fresh-out-of-bed style, but still dashing if you ask me.

I haven’t washed my face and brushed my teeth yet. That explains why I was too coy to talk. That’s what he gets for the surprise.

I asked him how is he enjoying things, he showed me his mosquito bites – those tiny red spots – in response. I said I thought he has plans of playing basketball with Harvey today. He showed me his feet, he forgot his shoes.

I asked about Carmina, he smiled with punctuations of e sounds. Nice blue braces. He left me with a handful of dark chocolates packed in his bag. And ate one for breakfast.

Too bad, I forgot to welcome him back.

weekend barbeque.

I'd rather tell you about
The burnt, charred meat
Over aggressive coals paired
With little dancing fires;
Cooking as time stands
By and flies;
Suddenly turning dark and
Barren. You tell yourself what a
Waste. You should have never
learned to wait.

lately...

I’ve been sleeping a lot – trying to devise ways to prevent memory from coming back. And because I tend to sleep all day, I end up being wide awake in the wee hours of the morning. There are those nights that I just can’t fall back into sleep, so I developed the habit of keeping a pad and pen beside my bed ready. From the faint ray of the night lamp, I’d sit up and would try to write doodles and words and phrases and sentences and then paragraphs or stanzas even. I would weave words and try to channel out negativity. I end up having fake journal entries, including bitter sounding poems in Filipino and English that reminds me of Anne Sexton and Sylvia Plath. To my advantage, at least it prepares me for my poetry class next year. It bothers me though that those poems rendered in Filipino sounds bitterer (or is it more bitter?) – making me sound more pathetic knowing that Christmas is just hours away. Kebs.

When writing fails to put me back to sleep, I’d grab a book and would read under the light that comes from the end of a lighter. It’s a lighter with a flash light. I bought it because it’s cool in its own right. And because I’m inherently lazy when it comes to reading texts unless it’s my own, it fails. Roosters are already crowing and yet my eyes won’t shut.

If that happens, I’d get out of bed and would go out. I’d sneak out of the house and would bribe Chilo not to bark. I’d walk around the subdivision and sometimes even run. I’d pretend that I’m a fitness buff trying to jog before sunrise. Neighborhood dogs don’t bark that much. I wonder why. I’d sneak back into the house and would bury myself in pillows after pillows then would finish the pile with my blanket. Sometimes it works, sometimes.

I’d be surprise if I fell asleep and would wake up around six in the morning. I would hear my parents talking. Mag-kape ka muna, Papa would say. And mom would give out her generic answer, Tara na. Late na ako – with matching sounds that would replicate African clicks. Then I’d fall back into sleep.

I’d wake up again because Michael and Mariel would be both awake. It’s either they would watch a film with massive explosions on the background, volume turned high for full effect, or would flaunt their playlist of growling and screaming bands talking about lost love. A song would go: that’s what you get for letting your heart win oh ohh ohhh ohhh, then a few more stanzas then growls and screams. Michael would be accommodating. He’d play his guitar, which I have told him before is utterly out of tune. He got mad for that. I’d be forced to get out of bed and surprise, surprise it’s already lunch time. Of course, I’d eat my lunch alone.

I’d sit on the couch and would feel the gravitational force pulling down my head, then neck, then my back. Poof! I was lying again and would fall asleep. There was a time that I woke up just to realize that Michael and Mariel left the house and forgot to turn on the lights. Perhaps they were assuming that I’d wake up before night time. My leg brushed against the cactus that was a souvenir from the UPDS homecoming and didn’t mind the pain. It was nothing compared to what I was having. I checked the spike after waking up and decided to pull it because it’s a bit annoying.

If I’m not sleeping, I’d also play Monopoly with virtual friends who reside in the motherboard. I won once. That was after being able to buy all the properties on the other side of the board, including Water Works, B. & O. Railroad, and Marvin Gardens! Losing by bankruptcy is depressing.

I’d also go out once in a while, traversing malls and halls. I’d watch people in coffee shops and restaurants. Where people would fake their sosyal-ness and would speak in English with troubled verbs and tenses, grammar included. Some would exhibit fancy suprasegmentals – pitch, tone, intonation, whatever.

I watched The Day the Earth Stood Still alone, featuring the seeming botox-ed face of Keanu Reeves. It was a stupid movie and that’s subjective. I bet environmentalists would love it. Bolt, on the other hand, is nice. Go watch it! I’d go home penniless.

Sometimes, I’d think about the pieces that I have to write for school and would break the thought immediately. I’d tell myself that I’m on vacation.

Special shoutout to Fred, who never fails to forward quotes on love, losing it and moving on. I forgive him. Thanks to Kath for talking to me the other night. Thanks to Lean for sending me this inspirational message: n_n. Joseph Alfonso from Oregon is back. That translates to a potentially kick-ass partey before this year ends. To Ara, who just bought a hundred peso worth of IDD credit for nothing. To Alyssa, who was complaining on how Jericho Rosales played in Pilipinas Game knb? To Ronn, who forwards quotes on bees and aerodynamics, quotes from F.Sionil Jose, from Holly Golightly, Oscar Wilde, and so on. To Ericka, who gave the latest samochi that ABS-CBN JUST BOUGHT THE RIGHTS TO TURN TWILIGHT INTO A MINI-SERIES. IT COSTS MORE THAN A MILLION DOLLARS DAW. RAYVER CRUZ WILL PLAY EDWARD AND SHAINA AS BELLA. Wazzup?!

I was feeling good the other night, so I did a Christmas wish list. It includes a lot of things, namely: skater boy cap (not necessarily a net cap; in gray, black, red, or white), a new pair of sunglasses on black frame, a new set of immaculately white shirts, 3 long sleeves (in red, white, and black), a full printed shirt (read: Penshoppe), also a set of plain shirts in all colors, a black pair of skinny jeans, a tailored slacks, more denims, a pair of black slippers (decent enough to be worn in public places), a new pair of white sneakers, a pair of running shoes, a pair of RED LOAFERS, a 3g phone to try Red Mobile, a nifty media player (not necessarily iPod), a laptop equipped with tons and tons of memory, a DSLR camera, and maybe a pair of contacts.

Thanks to Chel, I am also trying to learn a new choreo by G-Force, in tune of Forget About Me by Little Bit. Lyrical Jazz, oh yeah. After this, I want to learn a Street routine ala UP Streetdance. Wololong.

Currently addicted to Hershey’s & More Choco Mallow Pie. You have to try it. Seriously. You’ll love it.

I just checked my Frienster account and a certain person is inviting me to be part of Friendster group. And it’s for HRM students. Yessss, talk about retrograding memories. ROFL.

By some stroke of luck, Gia and me started texting again. After eons and eons, we shall meet each other again soon. I’m expecting skin deep pinches. I miss you, G!

I’ve been singing a lot. Thanks to practice, I can already reach No matter how hard it is, I’ll be fine without you. Yes I will . It’s attainable, right? Naman.

Lately, I’ve been doing nonsense stuff, something to keep me busy while waiting for things to start, things to end, things to continue. I want to make new friends. I want to have a new friend whose name starts with J. I don’t know, maybe another Jeff. I want to have a friend whose name starts with K, maybe another Karl or even Kurt. I want to have a friend whose name starts with T, maybe a Tim. Maybe another Marc or Mark or Marko. Or maybe, an E. I remember Elizabeth from the Lantern Parade (Patrick, Annel you should be able to get this one). I want another friend whose name starts with Y, like Yu (Hi Yu or Epi! I don’t know what to call you!) But I’d like to call him Cinnamon because it’s cool that way.

Lately, I’ve been trying to put myself back on track, trying to harbor back positive vibes. I’m doing a good job. Pat on the back. I think I’m better now. Just trying to put my spirit up because there’s no point in grieving. I have decided to be your boyfriend ON RESERVE. Grin. Pathetically funny.

***

Have a gastronomic Noche Buena! Merry Christmas, everyone. That’s a greeting oozing with love.

Text me people! I’d love to hear how y’all doing.

I love you all.

Cheers!

not moving on.

There is no use in talking or writing something if one wouldn’t make a point. In the same way that there is no use in saying that you’re hoping for something to happen and yet at the back of your mind, you don’t believe.

That’s why when I said I’ll be waiting, I waited for you. There was no reason not to. And the most important thing is that I trusted that you’ll be back. I believe. In the battle of words and silences, I’ll still believe.

A friend said, tanga na kung tanga. But in the absence to prove that something was lost, I’ll be firm. I’ll be strong.

Silences don’t end anything ‘cause the thing we shared continues to linger and creep. It haunts me in sleep, in my own silence, and everything that I do.

Space, on the other hand, can disable many things, leading to a fatal stop.

Every call unanswered, every text ignored, every drop of messages here and there is an attempt to rip space and to continue to believe that that wall you’re trying to build will crash eventually.

I need to make a decision.

I don’t want to say that I’m moving on. Because the idea behind moving on is that something already ended. I’ll be silent and firm as you are. Not because you died in me, but because the pain I’m in right now makes me realize how I much I value you.

I won’t let you go, never. I’ll just let you see what you need to see and if at any point you found what you needed, when you already found yourself and learned where I belong in your life, come back and tell me. I’ll appreciate it.

Think of me once in while. When our thoughts touch, I’ll know. It will remind me that in time, you’ll be back and it’ll give me another reason to believe.

You still have me.

All the best,
Marc

death by silence.

Phone ringing
empty lines
calls end with a silent
drop

Take the pill
of love and hate
and then you
die awake

Lying on the floor
senses bare
breathing comes to
a halt

Cease to die
to do it again
the death not of body
but of love

A ghoul stands
with a smile
flaunting a dangling
heart

Shattered pieces
learn to echo life
of quiet words
singing lies

Waiting
waiting
waiting
none

An unended end
is what you have


***

Phone ringing
empty lines
calls end with a silent
drop

Take the pill
of love and hate
and then you
die awake

Lying on the floor
senses bare
breathing comes to
a halt

Cease to die
to do it again
the death not of body
but of love

A ghoul stands
with a smile
flaunting a dangling
heart

Shattered pieces
learn to echo life
of quiet words
singing lies

Waiting
waiting
waiting
none

An unended end
is what you have

pangungulila III.

Mga luhang tutulo
para sa iyo
ngunit di makikita
didilig
sa hapis
dulot ng pangungulila
pagmamakaawa
na dati 'di
nagagawa
paulit-ulit na aawit
ng himig
ng pagluluksa
sapagkat iniwang
mag-isa
umaasa

pangungulila II.

Gigisingin ng gabing
naglalambing
upang gambalain
ng diwa
ng alaala
ng nag-iisang tao
na daglit rin ang paglisan
upang ipaalala
na ika'y iniwang
mag-isa
nangungulila

pangungulila I.

Hayaang tatwain
ng mga sinag araw
ang tunay na diwa
ng damdamin
upang tulad ng
bukas na sugat
tubog
sa lalim ng tubig dagat
madama ang dalisay
na poot
na pait
na hapdi
at rurok ng purong
pagmamahal
nang ika'y iniwang
mag-isa
nagmamahal

postmodern kebs.

Life is a bitch when you're so amazed with the new book that you just bought, and you decide to scribble onto in. It's yellow. Black ink will give that good contrast. Never mind that it has a huge & on it's face. I am wearing a yellow shirt. Kule attacked my book. Black blotches. Scratched &.

Life is a bitch when you're already late and no transportation to warp you to the other side of the world is available. Ergo, drivers will pound each other in the head to be Fate's wing men. And there was heavy traffic. Marc, you're late by 40 minutes. Do you even care? Professor smiles politely while sitting on top of the table. Of course, I care. Missed the Anna Oposa discussion, darn. I am wearing a yellow shirt.

Life is bitch when you read Lambert Varias' Ss and realized you were once all of the above: a side kick, a wing man, and a yes man. Then you realized, I am Lambert Varias. No you're not.

Life is a bitch when people do check you out. And you're not even single by virtue of YM and text messages.

***

Advise column:

Dear Marc,

I feel that I'm being ignored by my (insert gender)friend what will I do?

Respectfully yours,

Marc


Reply.

Dear Marc,

You wait, breathe and stop. Faith lang (Ano 'to sakit? Milagro? Faith?!) And say:



Hope it helps,

Marc

***

I missed two classes today:
1.Maximo
2.Cruz


I'm fucking up as a student. Tanghena lang.



I need a new life.

para kay b.

Kung tutuusin, maraming bagay akong dapat gawin kaysa isipin ka. Tulad nalang ng 800-1200 salitang artikulo para sa klase ko sa peryodismo. Artikulong inaantay ng isang Encanto. Tulad ng 500 salitang sanaysay tungkol sa isang tao – ang tatay ko – na tumatalakay sa buhay n’ya at ang epekto nito sa buhay ko. Tulad ng pagbabasa ng iilang paksa sa libro upang kumpetensyahin ang mga masasamang elemento sa klase ni Maximo. Tulad ng pagtulog. Tulad ng pag-iisip kung papaano ko mababago ang mundo.

Pero bakit ba sa kabila ng lahat ng ito, nariyan ka at nanggugulo? Pinatay ko na ang cellphone ko dahil nababaliw ako kahihintay sayo. Sira na ang dalawang charger ko, pero kahit na may bago, magmamatigas pa rin ako. Hindi dahil wala na akong pakialam sayo. Kundi dahil sa tuwing titignan ko ang screen nito, papawiin ang screen saver sa pamamagitan ng mga tiklado, wala akong mensahe mula sa iyo.

Minsan na kitang tinanong kung bakit may mga pagkakataon na hindi mo ako binibigyan ng paliwanag. Sabi mo, “Ganun lang talaga ako.” Taliwas sa pagkakaintindi mo, uulitin ko, hindi kita hinihingan ng paumanhin dahil ganyan ka lang talaga. Sa tinggin ko, hindi mo nabasa yung parte kung saan sinasabi ko na intindihin mo naman ako. Hindi na ako nagtataka kung nawaglit ang mga katagang iyon pagkabasa mo. Binura ko, mag-away pa tayo.

Maraming pagkakataon mo na ring ginamit ang rason na ito: napapraning lang ako. Sa totoo lang, hindi ko naiintindihan kung ano ang konteksto nito. Dahil kahit ako, sa tuwing sasakay sa tricycle papuntang kanto, sa tuwing bababa ng jeep habang umaandar pa ito, sa tuwing tatawid sa isang malawak at malapad na kalsada kung saan ang mga sasakyan ay tila parating nagkakarera, napapraning din naman ako. Pero sa tuwing magpapadala ako sayo ng mensahe na paalis na ako at uuwi na ako, hindi ko naman sinasama ang mga katagang napapraning ako.

Tulad ng sinasabi ko tuwing darating tayo sa puntong ganito, naiintindihan ko. Hindi sa bigla akong nabiyayaan ng linaw ng kaisipan o biglang bumaba ang espiritu ng langit upang gabayan ako, pero naiiintindihan ko na sa puntong ito, hindi ko pa pwedeng maintindihan dahil na rin siguro ayaw mo.

Minsan iniisip ko kung bakit pa kasi ako pumasok sa bagay na ito. Pero tulad rin ng minsan ko ng sinabi sa iyo, wala akong pinagsisisihan. Dahil sa pagkakataong ito, nahulog ako sa ilusyon, sa isang panaginip na sa isang sulok sa Pilipinas, sa isang sulok ng Lungsod ng Quezon, may nag-iisip kung kumain na ba ako, kung umuwi na ba ako, kung sino ang kausap ko, at kung anu-ano pa. Isang tao na hanggang ngayon pinaniniwalaan kong nag-aalala bukod sa kung sinumang kaibigan, kamag-anak, at mga magulang.

Kung nakilala mo ako ayon sa pananaw ng mga pinakamalalapit kong kaibigan, isa lang ang masasabi nila sa’yo: hindi ako pasensyoso. Hindi ako marunong umupo sa iisang tabi para maghintay na maganap ang lahat ng bagay na wala akong kinalaman. Ako’y kikilos, mag-iingay, mangungulit, magpapatawa, bibili ng merienda, magsasalita. Ako’y kikilos.

Sa ngayon, ang mga kamay ko’y nakatabing pa rin sa aking mga mata dahil hindi ako makapaniwala na ako’y nagbago para sa iyo. Ako ay nagtitiis, naghihintay. Nagpapaka-gago.

Alam ko naman na pinangangalagaan mo rin ako. Binubura mo ang mga “I love you” ng mga taong hindi mo naman kaano-ano, mga taong parte na ng nakaraan mo. Nagkakandaugaga ka rin naman kahit papaano nung nagtampo ako dahil sa SM at sa sapatos. Nagalit ka noong sinabi ko sayo na umalis ako ng bahay sa kalaliman ng gabi dahil bagot na bagot na talaga ako, kung saan pupunta, hindi ko sinabi sayo – dahil rin talagang wala akong pupuntahan noon kundi sa kawalan ng mga makikipot at madidilim na kalye; nag-aabang lambingin ng hangin, at bumulong na tumahan ang nilalang na gumugulo sa kalooban ko. Sana tama ako, sana totoo. Pinangangalagaan mo ako.

Kung tungkol lamang sa iyo ang mga bagay na ipapasa ko sa bawat klase sa pagsulat, sa tinggin ko kanina pa ako tapos. Makatutulog ng maaga, umaasa na sa pagmulat ko, sa pagkabuhay ng cellphone, ito’y magliliwanag at tutunog bilang hudyat sa mensaheng nagsasabing naalala mo ako.

Isang panunuya sa sarili ang pagtago ng mga bagay na gusto kong sabihin sa iyo. Maguluhan man sila sa pagkatao ng kausap ko sa sanaysay na ito, mag-imbento man sila kung sino ka, magturo ng ibang tao, isa lang ang totoo. Ito at ang laman nito.

May magbago man pagkatapos mong basahin ang lathala na ito, hindi ako magsisinungaling na magsisisi ako. Dahil ngayon importante kang tao sa buhay ko. Pero hindi ko rin itatanggi na sa puntong ito, naghahanap ako ng isang matibay na patunay upang ipagpatuloy ang paniniwala sa iyo. Dahil marami akong naiisip na dahilan upang bumitaw, bigyan mo ako ng isang dahilan, ang dahilang hinihintay ko para ‘di ako magbago. Dalian mo, habang balot pa rin ako sa ilusyon, sa emosyon na ito.

up debate society alumni homecoming.

quick update.

Tonight. Teatro Hermogenes Ylagan.
Faculty Center. CAL. UP Diliman.

7:00 p.m. Writer's Night.
Fashion Show. Theme: Fantasy.

Marc Siapno and Joy Salvio will be there.
Personal Theme: Nationalistic/Pilipinas.

Apex of Meh.

***

I miss someone. I missed someone.
Because of this.

Epic fail.