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Showing posts from May, 2017

10:01

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“just as real events are forgotten, some that never were can be in our memories as if they happened.”  ― gabriel garcí­a márquez, memories of my melancholy whores.

ganoon pala talaga ang ala-ala. parang magnanakaw lamang. bigla na lang susulpot sa yong harapan at nanakawin ang iyong panahon ng pansamantala. ibabalik ka sa isang pahina ng iyong buhay na matagal mo ng ibinaon sa limot. na matagal mo ng pinunit, sinunog at pinalipad sa alapaap ang mga abo nito. upang wala ng bakas. wala ng balikan.
(sabay tugtog ng ma-alala mo kaya....)
dear ate mahatma gandah....
nag-lilinis ako ng aking silid sa aming lumang bahay ng muling manumbalik ang isang nakalipas na sa pag-aakala ko ay matagal ko ng nakalimutan.
matagal-tagal na ring hindi ako umuuwi. kung hindi pa namatay ang tatay ay hindi ko maiisipang lumipad mula sa europa kung saan ako namalagi sa loob ng mahabang panahon patungong pilipinas. kahit medyo takot na akong sumakay ng eroplano (hindi ko alam kung bakit. bigla akong nag-kaphobi…

love in gilded cage

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i nearly asked mang fred to turn the car around once i saw the mammoth house where the party was being held. only one word came to my mind -- regal. surrounded by trees sparkling with christmas lanterns. its tall windows all lit up, like fireflies seducing the darkness into submission.
before that, a long drive on a tree-lined pathway after passing through an unwelcoming overwrought iron gate, tended by a sleepy guard in a blue and white uniform, who saluted mang fred as we entered. 
this is his world, i thought, and a chill ran through my whole being. i was never afraid of anything. but tonight i wished i had a prayer with me. 
mang fred, in his immaculate white uniform, opened the door of the car for me. i have gotten used to it now. it used to make me uncomfortable, even distraught, to let someone else do simple tasks like opening the car door. but we get used to everything, especially when we were doing it for the ones we love.
a smiling woman greeted me at the front door, three …

the ghosts of casandig

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as soon as i saw him, his frail body carrying two pieces of luggage and having difficulty opening the gate, i knew he was dying. but nobody noticed that other than me.

it was a sweltering saturday morning, around eleven, and the sun was at its most unwelcoming mood. the entire household, with his mother at the control tower, was busy preparing lunch. you could smell dishes being cooked, vegetables, onions being chopped, garlic being sauteed, and hear his mother shouting orders to the maids who were bantering while doing their chores in the dirty kitchen. they were all sweating even if electric fans were on, but nobody seemed to mind.

it was a feast that his mother was preparing. not for him. not for his arrival. but for her husband's nth death anniversary. his mother will forever love his father, keep him alive in her memory, even if in the end, he was not a very good husband and father to their three children.

her mother cried and embraced him tightly as soon as she saw him ente…

the lovely room is sad

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"she finally realized that the loud noise of her laughter that echoed for hours in the huge living room and made everyone who heard it smile silently was simply the tears that she hid, and even ignored, for years from everyone else, including herself. after reading her diary, she recalled hearing her sobs deep into the night when she thought everyone was asleep. but she was wrong. she was awake. but she was too young to realize what was going on with her life. too afraid of the dark hallway to get out of her room and knock on her door. how she wished she did. how she wished she tried to listen to her when she was older and could therefore understand her more, instead of just dismissing her outright as a "drama queen." how many times did she have these thoughts-- what else would make her sad? she was living her dream, everyone's dream. wasn't that enough to make her happy? but now that she's dead after jumping down from the rooftop of her thirty-storey apartm…

sweet summer sixteen

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"it was a vicious summer. the sweltering afternoons and blistering nights made even worse by his wounded heart. he wanted to weep under the roasting sun, the boiling sea water up to his neck, after he saw and heard him flirting with other girls in the beach, even paying special attention to sabel, the prettiest of them all. she of the soft, creamy white complexion and long, dark as night hair, and a face and the voice of an angel. she looked a lot like phoebe cates, the hottest hollywood actress. tall and dashing, and a nymphet in short shorts and tight, figure hugging white shirt that accentuated her bulging teen-aged breasts.
he has been secretly in love with him for almost a year now. at that moment, the burden of the secret, the immense guilt, the weight of the forbidden feelings were just too much to bear. like those sleepy afternoons, when the heat was intolerable, he waited for the rains to start pouring. to help him drown the sorrows of an unrequited young love.
he had been…