Six

Missing you, and what could've been.


6 word poetry
6:25pm
11 December 2011
Sunday
My shoebox

Be careful what you wish for

I've always wanted to travel since I was a child.

And I got this wish.

My job requires me to travel at least once per month. Sometimes, I get back from the airport, switch luggages, and leave the next morning.

My favorite tambayan (hang out place) lately is yes, you've guessed it right... The airport.

I am literally living in a suitcase. ABB as one friend would say... Ang Bahay ay ang Bag (my house is my luggage).

I should be happy and thankful that I get to travel, that I get to see a lot of places, meet a lot of people and taste lots of unique food from all over. But i just get so tired. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I just wish I have more time to rest and settle down. To gather some moss.



9:40pm
05 December 2011
Monday
Butuan City

Fate

my six words...

We meet again... maybe it's destiny.


10:10pm
20 Nov 2011
Sunday
Ladprao

But I think I know you

But I think I know you

I know that you don’t smoke
I know which countries you have been to
I know you speak some languages
I know that you drive
I know you write letters
I know that you think you can dance… even if you can’t
I know that you like to read
Because I have met you.

I know that you know me, too
You know what records I listen to
And you know how I sleep, and that sometimes, I find it hard to sleep
I know that you know that I will walk your way… as long as I’m with you
And by now, you have to know…
That I don’t fall that easily… not at all.

*this is inspired by Lisa Hannigan's song (I Don't Know)

06:45pm
14 November 2011
Monday
My Shoebox, Gotham

The Familiar

Sometimes, things are better...

Nostalgic, rather than current

Old, rather than futuristic

Rustic, rather than polished

Stained, rather than spotless

Aged and used, rather than brand new

Natural, rather than artificial

Familiar, rather than cutting-edge

Such is the 70s Bistro in Quezon City.

It was once a haven for UP students, activists, NGO workers, artists, poets, musicians, and the "unpolished". It can be best described as musty, stuffy, old, dark, dirty... in short, "dugyot". But this is where it gets its charm and character.

Now that it's been renovated and cleaned and polished... it suddenly became one of those bars, not the Bistro we used to love.

Sad. Sad. Sad.



7:25pm
21 October 2011
Friday
Kyusi

Wish

6 word-wishes

maybe it's time for a sabbatical

i need a blue sky holiday

i badly need some me time



4:45pm
15 October
Saturday
Cablelandia

Mansanas

iEve

iBite

iWantMore

iBuy

iHappy


9:40pm
09 October
Sunday
Fairview
(back in my shoebox after 3 weeks of travel)

aftertaste

i sometimes liken love to wine... it will make you giddy, happy, fuzzy.

too little, and you will find yourself craving for more. too much and you might find yourself losing time, missing out or having a really bad hangover.

what i like most about wine is that it has a very distinct aftertaste. it can either be bitter, persistent, short, sweet, smooth, or even non-existent.

and like wine... love will leave a distinct aftertaste -- bitter or sweet -- which will depend on how you savor the love that you had.

*inspiration for this piece is Damien Rice's Cannonball... "there's a little bit of your taste in my mouth"... *


06:25 om
20 Aug 2011
Tuesday
Cablelandia

High

I'm on a high today. Since this morning, until this time at night (10pm).

And i am attributing this to the fact that i did Zumba this morning for 15 minutes. Hence, the upbeat mode.

So starting tomorrow, i vow to do my morning exercises, for at least 10 minutes daily.

And as i write that resolve, i've finished the 20th piece of Flat Tops (from tindahan ni Aling Nena) for the day.

Hmmm... come to think of it, maybe it was Flat Tops and not Zumba after all.

Sigh.


10:05pm
18 Aug 2011
Thursday
Lad Prao Soi 1



photo credit: internet

be careful what you wish for

a lot of people have cautioned me... "be careful what you wish for"... because it just might come true.

for some reason, i don't fully understand why we have to be cautious in hoping for thing we want to have, or events we want to happen. we WANT it to happen, that's why we wish for it.

and from what i know, human beings will only want good things... happy things... things and events which will satisfy our insatiable wants and needs. so why worry? why be cautious? just don't wish for too much drama.

i say... wish for the star, dream big, aim high.

and oh... i was granted one wish... will be based in the Philippines for a couple of months. sweet! thanks for the pixies, Universe :)


4:25pm
24 July 2011
Sunday
Chiang Mai, Thailand

Saturday Night Fever

Satellite tv

Wifi connection

Skype with Summer and Red

Moo yang and sticky rice

Mangosteen

Sketching session



9:40pm
09 July 2011
Saturday
Lad Prao Soi 1

where?

6 word entry:

"my life: neither here nor there"



9:05pm
tues
21 June 2011
my shoebox
gotham

Should I cry when you die?

*another free-writing exercise. i'm still deciding if this is a poem, or a simple blog entry. heniweys...*


Should I cry when you die?

Should I cry
When you die?

Should I shed tears...
Real tears?

When all we had was fleeting...
Temporal and almost imaginary

Like a dream
That I desperately want to recall
As soon as I open my eyes

I think I felt your lips touch mine
But somehow I cannot trust my memory

Did I just want it bad enough
To actually happen

That the crevices in my brain
Decided to store this picture
As part of my reality

When does reality end...
And when does imagination begin?

So when you die
Should I grieve like we had a connection?

Or should I just feign indifference
And forget how in my memory
I felt the warmth of your breath
Against my face

Should I grieve for that fleeting moment
When I felt your heartbeat against my chest

When during that particular moment in time...
I felt that there is an 'us'

Maybe it was all in my head
So if grieve I must
It must be like that kiss
Fleeting, temporal, almost imaginary

Is it just Fata morgana?
They say that when you look into the horizon long enough
You will see images

But is this just that?
Fata Morgana
To drown me
And lure me to my own death?

Reality is relative they say.
Maybe in the future
Reality would prove me wrong

Much like the fact
That Pluto is not a planet
Or that there are 4 states of matter
Or that the earth is round

Maybe someday
Time would finally prove
That there was an 'us'

Yes
I think I will cry
When you die

I will shed real tears
For that version of reality
Which I remembered

It's my reality
My tears
So I will cry
When you die


16 June 2011
1:15am
Thursday
Gotham

37

37 is a special number for me.

i am now 37 years old.

it is said that 37 is the commonly accepted average core body temperature (taken internally) -- 37.0 °C. this must mean something good, right? not too hot, not too cold... just right... exactly what Goldilocks thought of Baby Bear's porridge... it's right for the eating.

it is also said that there are 37 holes in the mouthpiece of the old telephone unit, just the right number for the person at the other end to hear you speak. there are also 37 bars in the digits of a digital watch, just enough for us to tell the time.

so this year must be just that for me... JUST RIGHT.

just right -- to let go of the old and make way for the new.

just right -- to feel the highs as well as the lows.

just right -- to see the light, without being blinded.

just right -- to appreciate the rainbow after a heavy downpour

just right -- to feel comfortable in the dark, while waiting for that faint flicker of light

just right -- to prepare for the worst, while hoping for the best

just right -- to taste the bitter, to appreciate the sweetness of life

just right -- to know and pursue battles which i can win, and walk away from those that i can't

just right -- to take on big challenges, while not forgetting life simple pleasures

just right -- to enjoy solitude, while not being too comfortable with it

just right -- to play fair.. love light... live life.

thank you for being part of my life for the past 36 years.

this day starts another fabulous year for me. i invite you to join my journey :)

Suspended

As soon as the plane takes off from the runway... i feel my life go on pause.


The flight, however short it may be, becomes a break for me... a break from my life.


Just as the plane is suspended in mid-air, my life takes on a state of suspension -- nothing happens, at least during the duration of the flight. I don't make any decisions. I don't interact with anyone (i don't make small talk with my fellow passengers). I don't need to work. I don't need to worry about anything. My life simply takes a standstill.


These "short breaks" from my life helps me keep my sanity. It gives me a rest from life's daily grind.


It's another world altogether when i'm up there. A world which is not necessarily better, but just different... very different.


08:15pm
08 May 2011
Sunday
My Shoebox

confession

i love the way you remember the small details about me...

i love how you play the guitar quietly, without being a show-off...

i love that you love to write... so simply, so eloquently...

i love the fact that like me, you love good music...

i love that you were born with an artist's hand...

i love that you and i share the same hobby, the same passion...

i love that you care about people -- their rights and their lives...

i love how confidently you speak in front of people...

i love how you make me, and others, laugh...

i love how you brushed your lips against my forehead, and whispered something inaudible... when you thought that i couldn't hear...

i love that we use the same expressions...

i love how you visit my dreams, and make my nights feel warm...

i love how you made me feel special... at that particular moment...

and how i would love to go back to that time... again... and again... and again...


10:45pm
15 March 2011
Tuesday
Ladprao
(on a rainy night)

telepono at lovelife

ang lovelife, parang phone call.

minsan, short and sweet -- hello and goodbye.

minsan naman, parang dropped call -- biglang naglalaho parang bula, leaving you in limbo.

minsan pangit ang signal -- madaming issues at miscommunication.

minsan, parang unlimited call -- pangmatagalan... swerte ka pag nagkataon. pero delikado din, lalo na pag boring ang conversation.

minsan naman, parang missed call -- samakatuwid... paasa lang. lintek!

minsan din, parang booty call -- alam mong pampalipas oras lang.

pero malas ka, kung hindi phonecall, at text lang -- matipid, malabo, non-commital. parang yung kahaba-haba ng sinabi mo... tapos ang sagot lang ay... "k". at wala man lang smiley face.



11:25am
09 March 2011
Fairyland

Travel

I badly need some rest. I've been travelling for the past 2 weeks, and it's not fun.

I used to get very excited with travel opportunities. Heck, riding on airplanes and staying in airports used to give me a certain kind of high. Now, I just feel tired.

Can't wait for my one-week leave.


4:10pm
06 March 2011
Sunday
Phnom Penh, Cambodia

love poem

IF I WAS A LOVE POET

I want you to bite my lips until I can no longer speak,

and then suck my ex-girlfriend’s name out of my mouth just to make sure that she never comes up in our conversations.

I’m gonna be honest;

I’m not really a love poet.

In fact every time I try to write about love,

my hands cramp,

just to show me how painful love can be.

Sometimes my pencils break,

just to prove to me that every now and then love-

takes a little bit more work than you planned.

See, I heard that love is blind,

so I write all my poems in Braille.

And my poems are never actually finished because true love is endless.

See, I always believe that real love is kind of like a supermodel before she’s airbrushed.

It’s pure,

and imperfect,

just the way that God intended.

I’m gonna be honest;

I’m not a love poet.

But if I was to wake up tomorrow morning and decide that I really wanted to write about love… I swear that my first poem-

it would be about you.

About how I love you the same way that I learned how to ride a bike:

Scared.

But reckless.

With no training wheels, or elbow pads, so my scars can tell the story of how I fell for you.

You see, I’m not really a love poet.

But if I was,

I’d write about how I see your face in every cloud and your reflection in every window.

You see, I’ve written like a million poems hoping that somehow,

maybe some way you’ll jump out of the page and be closer to me because if you were here,

right now,

I would massage your back until your skin sings songs that your lips don’t even know the words.

Until your heartbeat sounds like my last name,

and you smile like the Pacific Ocean-

I want to drink the sunlight in your skin.

If I was a love poet,

I’d write about how you have the audacity to be beautiful,

even on days when everything around you is ugly.

You see, I’d write about your eyelashes and how they’re like violin strings that play symphonies every time you blink.

If I was a love poet,

I’d write about how I melt in front of you like an ice sculpture every time I hear the vibration in your voice.

And whenever I see your name on the caller ID, my heart-

it plays hopscotch inside of my chest.

It climbs on to my ribs like monkey bars and I feel like a child all over again.

I know this sounds strange but every now and then,

I pray that God somehow turns you back into one of my ribs just so I would never have to spend an entire day without you.

But I swear,

I’m not a love poet.

But if I was to wake up tomorrow morning,

and decide that I really wanted to write about love,

you’re my first poem; it would be about you.

Now, after all of that, she was like,

“So how do you feel about me?”

And I said,

“Let’s put it like this:

I want to be your ex-boyfriend’s stuntman.

I want to do everything that he never had the courage to do, like-

trust you.

I swear that when our lips touch,

I can taste the next sixty years of my life.

And some days I want to swallow stacks of your pictures just (so) you can be part of me a bit longer.

If I could,

I would sample your smile,

and then I would let my heartbeat do the bass line.

We would create the greatest love song of all time.

Whenever we stand next to each other-

love, I was the only one made for you,

and you-

can be at last, my Etta James.

I’ll be all child when you’re in pain.

Or you can be candy-coated drops of rain even though it never rains in Southern California.

And together,

we could be music.

And when my friends ask if you’re my girlfriend,

I’ll say,

NO.

She is my musician.

And me…

I’m her favorite song.”

IF I WAS A LOVE POET

by Rudy Francisco

==========

new addition to my Bahasa vocabulary:
malu = torpe

==========

pizza on a rainy saturday night
8:15pm
26 February, 2011
Menteng, Jakarta, Indonesia

Midlife

I wonder... is there such a thing as a midlife-crisis?

I mean... when do you know what you are actually living half of your life?

And is it really a crisis?

Isn't it that our lives are defined by the choices that we do. So why should we go through all these introspection, when in fact, this exercise should have been used in each and every thing that we do?

Will everyone go through this phase? SHOULD everyone go through this?

Hmmmm... ano sa tingin mo?



5:50pm
02 Feb 2011
Wednesday
Bangkok
(with Chippy Red... heaven!)

January is a bad month

i just realized, all my kurowt-kirowt moments are always in january:

January 2005 - Dahil kay K
January 2007 - Dahil kay B
January 2009 - Dahil kay T
January 2011 - Dahil kay M

next year, this will all change. January will be a good month for me.


6:45pm
14 January 2011
Friday
Phnom Penh, Cambodia