Gaps, patches and in-betweens

Missing Series Alcohol drowns my loneliness, Calling for sleep. Natalie keeps me company as I wallow in could bes. Welcome fatigue to push the body, Then embrace it. All because I miss the feeling of melted butter as I once Described holding my daughters’ hands. We would wait for sleep to shut our eyes, Comforted by the small space between us. There is a promise of being together, and A bigger space when the time comes. Meanwhile, I stare at the calendar. Long is indefinite and immeasurable. I realize words are not enough. Now is the best time to slam dance. September 25, 2006

Yes, Leyte Park, the hotel. The last time I was there was when the world and I were much younger, 11 years ago to be exact. The circumstances were also different. Yesterday I was there for a meeting, work, with mostly representatives of government offices. Eleven years ago, was a meeting also, but of the creative sort. We were clutching on the verges of literary genius or so we thought, amongst literary UP Creative Writing Center-wise icons. Yesterday I scoured the beach, the shore shorter now than how I remembered it, maybe because of more newly-built cottages. Back then I was intoxicated with Bahalina. Today I was cold, stone sober with only caffeine running through my veins for the past few days. The world was mine to conquer back then. Now I’m scared shitless with uncertainties and age clouding a future view of the world and how I want it to be with and for my kids. I sat at the lounge drifting between thoughts of then and now, drawing on my cigarette in my left hand as I did eleve...

Thanks for the text welcome Poly. Very you, sarcasm in the midst of sincerity. Factor in the time and it really is you. Thanks also tita mag for the beers. And the chicken. And friends, say grace, brigs, pauline and mimi. Yes, I'm back in Manila. dot dot dot For good? For a while? For now? With the kids? dot dot dot let's drink a lot to that before I answer.

Spongebob’s dream is Superman’s identity. Batman used money to be able to. Erica Jong's Isadora Wing feared it. We can if we will it enough And re-define it. artwork at site: http://www.artmatenwa.org/artworks.html

The pen leaves a trail of thoughts capturing precise moments and make-believes. Energy flows from the mind to the hand, giving birth to masterpieces made from bits and pieces of what-ifs and has-beens. You can’t burn, delete or tear up my mind’s imprint of my shadow across the keyboard or the palette or the paper. The final work is saved and archived In my memory stick.

After a harrowing schedule of start and finish camp job (no plateau here) i am back to s/mothering, blogging and chatting with friends before I go down for a job in Manila and probably a major decision and change with a humungous effect more than chacha promises. This is because it will affect the kids. Nothing is as humungous as that. I promised myself to read a good book during this two-week vacation. But I'm in front of the computer as of now, after being a zombie yesterday from drinking too much the other day. So maybe the book will be on the bus to manila to save me from talkative bus seatmates. I'm teaching the kids Bob Marley lately. "Don't worry about a thing. Coz every little thing is gonna be all right."

We walked the narrow path, beneath the smoking skies. Sometimes you can barely tell the difference between darkness and light. Do you have faith in what we believe? The truest test is when we cannot, when we cannot see. I hear pounding feet in the, in the streets below, and the, and the women crying and the, and the children know that there, that there's something wrong, and it's hard to believe that love will prevail. Oh it won't rain all the time. The sky won't fall forever. And though the night seems long, your tears won't fall forever. - It can't rain all the time, Jane Siberry, Soundtrack: The Crow starfish picture by Noel Almera

Excerpts from Tears to Shed If I touch a burning candle I can feel no pain In the ice or in the sun it's all the same Yet I feel my heart is aching Though it doesn't beat it's breaking And the pain here that I feel Try and tell me it's not real I know that I am dead Yet it seems that I still have some tears to shed Corpse Bride, Film Score Composed by Danny Elfman artwork at site: http://www.buy-images.com/Faces.html gockel

*"right now" was in the midst of Florita's wrath 1. The rain so we have water we need not pay for. 2. Kids just happy to be home, messing up the house with their toys and wanting everyone to share their home-bound situation. When she learned that I was not going out, the youngest said: "Thank you nanay, for staying home with us!" while the shy, more quiet one smiled her sincere thanks. They keep my boredom and insanity at bay with their incessant need for attention even if they sometimes are the cause of insanity. 3. A partner who knows how to make yummy soup out of tomatoes and salt, redesign an umbrella into a funnel for the water tank, and who gets up in the middle of the night to clean up the flooded living room. 4. A manang who cares for everybody, even the dogs, rabbits, turtles and most especially (for her) the cat. 5. Electricity in the midst of the storm. 6. My computer so I can work at home. 7. The family's good health and safety. 8. A job that ma...

You might want to try this http://www.blogthings.com/whatcolorblueareyouquiz/ What Color Blue Are You? I tried it and it gave me this: ***You Are Navy Blue*** You're a true adventurer. You constantly find yourself drawn to new experiences, people, and places. Sometimes you feel quite scattered and bored. If something exciting isn't going on, you feel a bit lost.

a post too late for mother's day this year, yet too early for the next... She gets up before anyone in the planet does, Bone-swollen from earning what’s for breakfast Gulps down the first part of the coffee Thawing the frozen stomach. She gathers strength And fries the eggs to feed The citizens of the planet. Calling for the day to start, The citizens rise. Darna fluffs pillows and folds blankets Where well-loved sleepy heads laid last night at rest. They are still babies, the citizens Off to school the planet beings go So does she to another world Change costume, play the part Earn dinner, the next day’s food and pay the bills. In all the planets nobody knows nor can they fathom Much less appreciate her secret identity. She calls on her super friends for help to pick up the kids Learning their ABCs. Darna dashes off to the market. At home she zips, zaps, zooms again School and working clothes down the washer While preparing dinner. She stands in the middle of her world Where she c...

Art? Doesn't matter Wednesday, June 07, 2006 I am sad. I met four people I know today all looking for work. Two were looking for any work, one was diverting to entreprenuership for a while, just something to do to earn while waiting for something better, and the last, confronting the root of the problem out of immediate necessity, was borrowing money. That actually is the bottomline. And then there was a fifth one declaring his flat broke financial circumstance and there I was also looking for work, which makes it six people in a span of four hours. Everyone of them, us, are artists, in a relationship with art, and or artists one way or another. Go figure. And these people are not even purist as we call artists who shun any form of commercialism. We are actually looking at artists who can and will compromise and "sacrifice" their art for their families. An artistic being in the Philippines is blessed if they have foreign aid or they belong to an old-rich family, or have a...

So, pinanindigan ko ang pagtatahi. This morning I sat beside Kigao, he, gumagawa ng tao, while I stitch and mend and got my finger pricked (just once! O, ha!) I finished most of the adjustments in the uniforms and I enjoyed my triumph over my third cup of coffee, admired my basic stitching and the humungous victory of getting something I don't do, actually done. Give me something to write any time. Give me a topic and shove me into a training anytime. Set me a meeting with FAs and aid groups, and embassies. But this, this is an actual triumph. And I never could have done it without Mrs. Osum or all the other HE teachers I had. No matter if it took some 20 years for me to realize I actually have fingers that work! I really would not have been able to do what I did this morning without HE. Honest. I wouldn't know how. I raised my coffee and sipped my thanks to my HE teachers. As a flash of inspiration, I thought of getting those small sewing machines for small sewing needs. I lik...

My head reels when characters tell the pivotal person in their life everything they’ve been holding in at the very last moment - "I love you", "I'm sorry please forgive me" then a speech to summarize a life of baseless accusations, pretences, I thoughts, if only I knews, I should haves -- when they had all the time while the person was well and alive, and technology at its best: email, snail mail, cel phones, landlines, text messages, door-to-door deliveries, or personal visits with cars, planes, trains, boats, buses, jeeps, tricycles... And they're lucky if the dying person is alive enough to even understand or hear them say what they have to say, or feel their apologies or their love from a squeeze on a hand with dead dermis. There should be a “tell-all” day and a rally to celebrate it with slogans like: Save yourself and your loved ones the lifetime agony! Tell them how you feel right now! Free them and yourself! Or maybe not tell them at all (one's o...

A slice in the sky Just a piece really before the depression Then lunacy. Yet even before that, dyslexia Alzeheimer’s Sloth Internal body aches Emotional cancer. Cars conk in the middle of the street Keys are lost Computers hang Late for an important meeting Kids are late for school The daily grind The body contorts as it hungers to hear something for the soul You turn to strong spirits for a kick in the gut Fangs come out You wish you have wings or can at least find your broomstick Night falls still the mind prowls With only that piece of light Illuminating life Thank goodness for stars. When the slice becomes a full bowl Bask in the strength bestowed by More light now. Tempered wildness And bizarre, seemingly senseless irrationality. The world fast forward in slow motion Puzzle bits of reality fall into place Life is almost sane And everything is possible and acceptable. I wear my silver. Until the night dims again And only the owls can see Insanity lurks in the darkness with the res...

The theory of relativity is based on two assumptions: that the speed of light in a vacuum is constant, and that physical laws have the same mathematical form throughout the universe. - Microsoft® Encarta® Premium Suite 2005. © 1993-2004 Microsoft Corporation. typical [adjective], typicality [noun] 1. representative: having all or most of the characteristics shared by others of a type and therefore suitable as an example of the type 2. conforming to expectation: conforming to what is expected 3. resembling others in taxonomic group: used to describe an organism, species, or genus that has most of the characteristics that identify the larger taxonomic group to which it belongs - Microsoft® Encarta® Premium Suite 2005. © 1993-2004 Microsoft Corporation. Funny how when we watch a movie with the usual weddings and the bride in white, Kigao asks me if I ever long for those things. Now that is weird. I had to remind him that I'm the one who does not want to get married. I never had that ...

Because the nearby tailor in our place decided to diversify, and rather than bring my daughter’s uniform to town for a small adjustment in size, I opted for a more practical “mommy” thing to do: I tried to sew it myself. While at it, I got high school flashbacks. As I struggled not to prick myself with the needle, I told my kids how in high school, I used to always have someone to do the needlework and yes, most of the hands-on projects for me. Well, it sometimes came with a price of an English assignment but some friends were too nice to ask for an exchange gift and would do it because they either enjoyed doing it and maybe because it was for me. Then off I went into a tale of good friends and the kind my kids should be and should have. Hail all friends! But one name reverberated in my head in-between the tale and the running stitches: Mrs. Osum. (tama ba spelling)? Now I’m not even sure if she was an HE (home economics) teacher. But yesterday it was like… everytime I put the needle i...

Signs. Sigh. Signs.

Why I like the book better It’s not Tom Hank’s hair or his arduous effort in opening his mouth as he delivers his lines like he just suffered from a stroke or was about to have one. Time constrained movies cannot go deep into the characters’ persona to make one empathize with them as books can. The book’s plot is laid down pat with no limitation as to the reader’s imagination. In the book, small seemingly trivial trimmings and details are explained giving sound basis to theories, which I either missed in the movie or I did not understand. I asked Kigao if he noticed any discussion of PHI and why there was sex in the rituals of the priory of scions, which wasn’t explained or I missed because of numbers 1 to 4 (refer to above post) in the movie. I also missed the part when Robert Langdon had to drive an automatic during the chase with the French authorities. Aside from Tom Hanks seemingly magical powers when anagram and analytical thinking, although a gift, are more of skill and of one’s...

In two lamenting parts: The Da Vinci Code Part one: Why reading the book is better While reading the book, you do not experience: 1. Kuyakoy or someone shaking their legs (they say involuntarily but I suspect some people do it consciously to irritate people like myself) to the beat of 1/10 per second. This shaking creates a vibration affecting two or more seats from the source, making those affected think of intensity two earthquakes 2. Seat kicking by someone behind who cannot sit still 3. Feet up on the seat 4. People’s unwanted and unnecessary reactions All of these have the effect of irritation leading to concentration loss. The excitement of watching movies in a wide screen, with dolby stereo sound system just dissipates with the presence of numbers 1 to 4. I realized that watching films at home is a much better option. Though reading has the risk of unwelcome interruptions from the kids, these interruptions are bearable because they are my kids after all. One can always find the ...

While sitting through, for the umpteenth time the predominantly dark and blue but visually exciting, not scary for 8 and 4-yr olds, entertaining enough for 35-yr old (s)mothers, and can hold cannot-sit-still fathers, Corpse Bride, my daughter remarked: "He can eat himself." The 4 , 35 and 46 yr olds looked at her. It was the scene where Emily, the corpse bride gave Victor a box of bones for a wedding present. Scraps, Victor's long dead dog, after falling on the floor bones, collar tag and all rearranged himself in his dog-boned form. "Dogs like bones don't they?" Ilaw, the 8-yr old said. "Scraps is dead and all bones... "...and he's a dog... "...so he can eat himself."

Birth certificates of any kind are null and void unless issued by the NSO. This means the almost faded, creased, yellow-from-time Xeroxed copy most people have in their personal file should be Xeroxed by NSO on a yellow NSO paper. I recently got my "official" birth certificate at the NSO Serbilis center in about a total of 5 hours or thereabouts. But that 5 hours took two days, (released the next day) of which 99.9% of the time is spent waiting in line. In fairness, the line was constantly moving and there was no lunch break. I couldn’t believe the many people applying for birth certificates, which was the longest line. All these people in Manila do not have official birth certificates. Imagine that. While in line and bored to curiosity, I noticed there were also applications for marriage certificates, and, dig this, certificate of non-marriage. Whyever in the world would you need a certificate to announce single-blessedness? Annulment? Why can’t the ex couple just present th...

always make me wanna drink

Now that I am not tied to a regular job, the world’s options open to me like crab holes in sandy beaches. Sand covers up the holes once the opportunities are taken, but if one is open and fast enough, we can choose among the many, pay no attention to the uninteresting, well, at least until one can afford to choose… I used to know how it was to freelance. Scary as it may sound, it was liberating. But I guess it is scarier now with two kids. Most of my batchmates are either with a regular job, or with their own business or seemingly has something to do. Aside from write and learn how to cook and play (s)mothering to my kids, what else can I do in this in-between rackets and job phase? Hmn. Some of the rich people have already “made it” around this age. I wonder in what field I can “make-it” meaning financial security and liberation from having to write to live and just living to write. Two things are especially appealing to my business sense right now. Should I be a “mami-magnate” or a “...

We were under a dictatorship but for Marcos the jig was up. Benigno Aquino was shot. Political turmoil. People were angry and discontented. The killings, the violation of human rights was at a boiling point. People were outraged. EDSA 1. Then the dictator left. But maybe I was so wrapped up in my adolescent world I can only remember flashes of political instability. In our world, it was not the politics that made it worst but all the insecurities that came with adolescence that would hit you right when hormones were jumping, facial imperfections such as pimples, oily face and body hairs were appearing, and discomfort of the regular monthly blood release signaling your capacity to procreate at a time when the love of your high school life decided to smile at you, noticed you and your pimples, or your new haircut and suddenly took an interest in teasing or talking to you. It was the time of chocnut and tootsie roll, the smell of banana cues, mango shake, waffles, and Ka- Liwanag’s lugaw,...

It has been a family ritual of ours to horde CDs and play couch potato for days, well, ok, if schedule permits. The challenge for the films, is to satisfy an array of demanding audience. The task for us supposedly responsible parents is to keep the family within limits of sanity especially this summertime and the kids are bored stiff. It has never been this challenging during school days because the kids are easier to please and sometimes would even skip some films as they are going to school and would have to sleep and do their assignments (otherwise, we wouldn’t be responsible parents!). But summer, ah, summer, the heat in Baguio gets to the level of actually wanting to wear shorts and manila summer attire at home or outside, turn on the electric fan, not wanting blankets at night, and the boredom of no school and only your sister to play with for my two daughters. This last part is what gets to me. They sometimes get into screaming bouts, the house will be in an uproar and will have...

“I-am-sorry” admission to cheating and lying of the highest leader of the land broadcasted on national television. Angry, resigned, betrayed, couldn’t-care-less-there’s- work-to-do faces whiz by me. Drones report on dollar against peso rate doing good, better than the past few years. Groans escalate with the price of gasoline. Babies scream for milk. Working mothers whimper at the price and the dry nipples. Resigned sighs on house rent and city services increase. Celphones and computers whisper plans of coups and lightning protests. 1017 was issued. People in violation were cuffed. Jaws fell open at the farce. 1017 was lifted. People are still cuffed. A fog of Martial rule hangs in the air. People holler outside to unseat the President. The police stomps CPR. Protesters whimper. Press is smothered by invisible gags. Middle class people bicker. We buy everything from drinking water to TV channel. My eldest is turning grade 3 this June. My youngest is practicing her nursery graduation so...

SM Baguio, well, the grocery area, always gets to me. And for me it is always the grocery. The first few times I got pissed, my irritation waned after a couple of weeks without my writing about it. That’s how it is with Aries, easy to anger, and after a while, easy to forget. But today I was with my daughter, and I'm not about to let it pass this time. The first incident was my typical grocery day at SM. Anticipating a change in the weather, I bagged my sweater in my girlie knapsack, which is bigger than the usual handbag. I picked up a couple of things here and there inside the mall, and put it inside the bag. The last stop was the grocery. They already checked my bag when I first entered the mall. Now just a few feet away is the entrance of the grocery store, which you still have to submit your bag for inspection. As I did, and seeing that my bag a bit full after consuming the goods I bought right there at the mall, the guard seemed to be considering an imaginary catalogue of bag...

The Anti GMA Black Prop Movement circulated emails and details of their first activity for those who want to join. But I had to read the instructions twice as I did a double take. The flash protest was to be held at any STARBUCKS outlet. STARBUCKS? Of all the…. Yes it is true that starbucks might get you the attention of the upper middleclass because they are the ones that would be there at around 6-7pm on a Friday. But most of the working class would rather not have coffee on a Friday but, yes, alcohol. And the instructions for the Black Friday protest calls for actually “buying” a drink (Duh!) and suggesting that a boss treating the staff for coffee. This might be a good come-on for some of the staff that couldn’t care less about what is happening albeit the current political turmoil, but spending to bring up the sales of hell, STARBUCKS! I’d rather go to a rally then. It doesn’t cost me anything except my fare going to the place. In rallies, people are there not for free coffee from...

I just love playing the devil’s advocate. No matter if it leaves me with some disgruntled friends, risking the cooling of a warm friendship. It has always been my nature. A bit of a devil, I guess. Not with the role to tempt, but more to advocate. I guess that explains my attraction to cause-oriented and advocacy groups. As proclamation 1017 was dropped and then lifted, media and the noisy people rallying are left in a limbo on the vagueness of the state now. People are getting picked up by going to rallies. As usual, activists sound off their disgust of GMA in the streets where they were most comfortable. This “taking freedom of expression to the streets” has indeed been proven successful in EDSA 1 and 2, and in exercising their right to be heard. But unlike EDSA 1 and 2, the middle class is conspicuously absent in the rallies nowadays. We take middle class here to encompass upper middle class, middle class and lower middle class. These are the working people, claiming to be the silen...

Pain droops my shoulders, tension they said Pushes my back, stress I assume Wraps the hips tight, from the endless travels they surmise A dull heaviness on my chest Not from consumed cigarettes, that much I am sure. I enter the meeting room. Air conditioned cold froze my warmth unwelcome, wary glances collide with my angry stare. Like parrots they squawk and pick at everything. Too complicated Too simple Too loud Too soft Too strict Too lax Too strong Too mild Too caring Didn’t care too much Enough! From the gut It hurls itself In your face The farce explodes. Fuck farce. I am too tired. And I hate parrots. Saturday, February 18, 2006 Artwork by Diru

The kids do not screech their fights Asking me to come in between My thoughts are my own The smell of coffee, sometimes of gin And cigarette, my own. I consciously turn on the exhaust. I turn the music on Glad to have silence from nickelodeon or Disney I pour the gin and Think about my friends Wonder are they feeling the same I itch to text or call someone To share this moment with I turn on the computer People are online We share secrets and intimacies on the net And banter Talk about decades past Maybe for a moment As we relive yesterday And address today As we discuss the past based on who we are now I listen to the kitchen sink drama And I relate I feel like it’s Friday