Tuesday, September 25, 2012

Sa CR ng AS

Palubog na ang araw nang
Nag-CR ako
Sa AS first floor
Nandun ako sa kanang bahagi
Doon sa mga
Cubicles

Sa tapat ng mga lababo
Ay ang salamin
At habang
Naghuhugas ako ng kamay
Ay doon ko nakita
Na meron pala akong kasama

Pero wala namang kaso
Dahil
Normal lang yun
Hindi ko pinuna
Lalo na't
Nakita kong
Prof siya

Naka-salamin
May puti na ang buhok
May kamukha siyang
Taga-Chem
Pero hindi ko siya kilala

Napansin kong
Matagal lang siyang nakatayo sa likod ko
Napansin kong
Kakaiba yun
Pero hindi ko naman siya
Tinitingnan sa mukha
Kasi nakakahiya

Maya-maya din
Umalis na siya
At tuloy ang
Paghuhugas ko ng kamay
At iniisip kong
Medyo weird yata siya
Pero laking gulat ko nang
Nakita ko sa salamin
Na bumalik siya ulit

Lumakad siya
Papunta sa isang
Cubicle
Doon sa dulo
Yung mas maluwag
Kumpara sa iba

At tumayo siya dun
Habang nakatitig sa akin
Tumango ang kanyang ulo
Na tila ba yun ay
Isang paanyaya

At sa laking gulat ko
Sa aking naintindihan
Ay kumaripas ako
Nang takbo
Pabalik sa tambayan

Anong nangyari sa iyo?
Tanong ng mga ka-org ko
Ang putla mo
At tumawa na lang ako

Ngunit hanggang ngayon
Naiisip ko pa din
Paano kaya
Kung kumagat ako
Paano kaya
Kung sumunod ako
Dun sa cubicle

Siguro
Mas marami sana akong
Naiintindihan
Sa buhay namin
Sa buhay ng mga kagaya kong
May iba pang pangangailangan
Sa mga CR



Saturday, September 22, 2012

Minsan

Sabi mo, sabi mo.

Ako lang yung taong. Kakaiba sa lahat ng nakasalamuha mo. Ako lang yung taong. Kapareho mo mag-isip. Ako lang yung taong. Nakausap mo. At nakapagpalimot sa iyo. Ng pagdaloy ng oras.

Sabi mo, sabi mo.

Iba talaga ako. Kaya kapag ako ang kasama mo. Kaya mo ring sabihin sa akin. Ang mga bagay. Na hindi mo kayang sabihin sa iba. Sabi mo iyon sa akin. Nung magkaharap tayo sa mesa. Nag-yoyosi tayo. At napaliligiran ng mga. Taong mayayaman.

Sabi mo, sabi mo.

Huwag ako dapat mahulog sa iyo. Sabi mo, dapat. Pigilan ko ang sarili ko. Kasi ayaw mo na ako. Ay maging isa na namang biktima. Ayaw mo akong mabilang. Sa mga nahuhulog sa iyong bitag. Gusto mo sana akong maiba sa kanila. Dahil sabi mo nga. Ako ay. Kakaiba.

Pero sabi ko, sabi ko.

Ang kapal ng mukha mo. Mag-assume. Sabi ko, sabi ko. Alam ko. Ang mga ginagawa ko. At hindi na ako inosenteng bata. Na tanga pa sa larong ito. Na kung akala mo ikaw ang nangunguna. Ay mas nauuna ako.

Pero, pero

Sabi-sabi ko lang iyon. Kasi ang totoo. Ay okay lang akong. Magpaka-tanga. Para sa iyo. Minsan talaga. Minsan. May mga makikita tayong mga tao. Na alam nating. Worthy. Ng ating pagpapaka-tanga. Minsan talaga. Nangyayari yun. Sa atin.

Yung gabing iyon. Nung sumabog ang utak ko. Kasi nayakap kita. Yun lang yun. Yun lang. At dumaloy ang luha ko. Kasi na-realize kong. Gustong-gusto talaga kita. At sa buong buhay ko. Doon ko lang naranasan. Yun. Akala ko dati. Naranasan ko nang lahat. Hindi pa pala.

Pero sana, sana

Hindi mo na lang nalaman. Kasi ngayon, wala ka na. Kasi ngayon masaya ka na. Sa piling ng iba. Kaya ngayon, sabi ko, sabi ko. Manhid na ako. Kasi mas mabuti pa iyon. Kesa maramdaman ko yung sakit. Na minsan may dumating sa buhay kong. Kagaya mo. Umalis ka. Pero hinayaan lang kita. At wala akong ginawa.

Sana lang, sana

Minsan. Maalala mo din ako. Na minsan may nakilala kang ako. Na nahulog sa iyo. Minsan nag-usap tayo. Sa ilalim ng dilaw na ilaw. Minsan niyakap kita. Minsan niyakap mo ako. Sana maalala mo. Na minsan nag-yosi tayo. Sa paligid ng mayayamang tao.



Tuesday, September 18, 2012

First Rape

I did not really know this guy but I agreed to come into his house anyway, and he lived in Laguna so I had to ask him which provincial buses to take to get there. There were some girls in his house when I reached his gate, and they looked at me strange. I was not sure who they were or if they were even related to him.

He ushered me into his room which was brimming full of books. Stacks and stacks of them. There were some crude paintings too, which he made himself. And there was even a pale pink guitar. It looked like a movie setup. A room of an artist. He pushed me down and made me sit on the bed. I was hoping we'd just talk, but his moving and darting hands told me we wouldn't be doing much of that.

He pushed the door closed without locking it. We must be quick he said, because the other people in the house did not want him bringing men inside his room. His mother forbid him. He did not lock it, he said, because he did not want them to get suspicious. I should have bolted for the door right then. But what can I do? There was no easy way out of that tangle I got myself into.

He started pawing me. So I took hold of the guitar so as to form a barrier but he calmly set that aside. I picked a book instead, but he took it away from me as well. Then he unzipped my pants and took off my shirt and he made me do things I did not want to do. And he made me kiss him and it felt so awful because I did not want to and I really just wanted to get out of his house and run but he had this manic gleam in his eye and although his madness was what attracted me to him in the first place, what he was doing to me was really getting out of hand. So I let him have his way as he sat on me while my mind flew away and I waited until he was done and he was satisfied.

But then he started asking me to do more things for him, and it was all that I could stand and tears leaked out of my eyes but he went on and on and it felt so terrible because I could not push him away because I don't know how he'd deal with that so I just did what he wanted me to do and I was crying I swear I was.

And after was worse. After, he rummaged through his clothes basket and threw an old shirt at me to clean the mess he made on my body. I didn't think I would feel any lower, but the way he regarded me after, as if I was something used and done with, to be discarded, was worse than him forcing me to kiss him. And the way he pretended that nothing bad had happened to me, the way he opened the door and pretended that we were simply talking without even waiting for me to pull my pants up, made me feel violated in more than a sexual way.

I went outside to smoke and to get away from him but he followed and breathed down my neck, calling me all sorts of pet names and making believe that we would be an awesome couple. He was fussing over me, giving me all sorts of books, a handmade compilation of some of the pieces he wrote, and even drew me a portrait right then and there and through it all, I kept still. I held in my disgust. My overwhelming disappointment. Because I knew that there was an even more overwhelming sadness behind his desperation. I kept still. Because I did not want to hurt his feelings.

On my way back, he kept sending me text messages and I replied to none of them.

When I got home, I promptly went online and blocked him from my Facebook profile.

And for a while, I was numb. I needed to be numb.



Saturday, September 15, 2012

The Z

A train just left and I was first atop the LRT2 platform. I had its length all to myself and I walked slowly to the opposite end. And for those precious few seconds, I made believe I was in this music video to this song I was listening to from my mp3 player. I mouthed the words. My arms swaying in sync and I stepped to the beat. I immersed myself in the music. And I didn't care whether the people on the opposite platform could see me.

My side of the platform slowly filled up and I had to curb my bout of fitful fantasy. I felt the ever-present control society kept imposing on us settle on me. It gradually took hold of my body, making me move more stiffly. Less freely. It was a loss. And I felt angry with myself. Because even if I am more aware than most people, I still am not strong enough to completely resist that Big Brother-ish paranoia that we all must act properly when in the presence of other people.

We look askance at people who act differently in public. We frown at them, even if they are not really harming or annoying us. Dissect this behavior all you want I suppose we cannot deny that we respond to them in this manner simply because we have a need for everything to be uniform and normal. What we do, we want others to do also. Just because we're used to it being that way.

Half an hour later, I was riding LRT1. I ended up standing in front of this piece of "Berso sa Metro" and of course I read it. And after, I felt like I had to touch it. There was a picture of a hut in this particular piece that I read, and I wanted to put my finger on its window. It felt like the proper response. I did no such thing though, even if I knew that few would even notice me doing that and those who did would be puzzled but would forget about it in a few seconds. I felt angry at myself. I felt sad. And I longed for a society where such unusual actions wouldn't be so unusual.

I found an empty seat and promptly occupied it. Disparate men were in front of me, and briefly, I wondered about the stories hidden within them. I had this sudden urge to talk to one of them because who knew, we might just become friends. Who knew what impact on my life would come about from that simple act of reaching out. I did no such thing though. And I felt frustrated at how almost all of us leave this chance of enriching our lives pass us by. And I felt shamed that even if I am aware of this, I act no differently. And I felt more shame because maybe, some of those in front of me are thinking about the same thing and I've judged them wrongly.

A Muslim mother sat beside me, her young son in tow. And her child promptly knelt on the seat so he can face the window, just like I used to when I was of the same age. I remembered how awkward I felt, that first time when I realized that I was already too big to kneel like that. So I had to sit normally, like a grownup. And I had to settle for looking at the view from the opposite window. How sad that moment was.

The child was just learning how to read, and he was using the station names for practice. We just arrived at Vito Cruz Station. He couldn't read the sign, and he asked his Mom how to properly pronounce it, since he was having trouble with the Z.

And tears sprang up in my eyes because I remembered my innocence. And it would have been fine if I cried right then and there because it was such a beautiful moment for me. But I did no such thing. Because I am shackled into acting properly by this society.

There are so many songs that claim that we live in a crazy world. It had become such a hackneyed phrase, that we seldom spare a thought about it. But now I know how true those songs were.

We do live in a crazy world. And I could go on and cry and rant and write about it but I know that very few will see what I'm trying to say. Very few will bother. Very few will feel me. And that's... that's part of the reason why it's crazy.







Tuesday, September 4, 2012

A Hush Falls As Electrique Unleashes "Head in the Clouds"

My dearest friends,

Mabuhay! It's time once again for a new album to be shared but first I must apologize for the bother. I know that many of you might be quite busy at the moment, but if you can spare some moments to listen to some really good music, please allow me to hand you this treasure chest of songs that I've found. You know that I wouldn't waste your time unless I feel that the effort is worth the gains.

I am now on my 28th compilation, and my, it does get harder to come up with new ideas every time. But I must say that with this effort, you can say that my muse is alive and kicking and it still was able to sprinkle some creative dust on this confused head of mine.

"Head in the Clouds" is a very personal album. Well, so far, my albums have all been personal but I suppose what I really want to say is that I've never been this intimate with my listeners as with this one. This album is about the things I couldn't express very well through words and you can say that it is a marvel that I was able to find the right songs to match my theme. It was an amazing experience, making this one. As if I was able to piece together these scattered remnants of my thoughts.

Now I'm not sure if I can match the catchiness of "Revelations" since the songs here are much more subdued. They're all quite acoustic sounding. But what they lack in immediate appeal, they surpass with their meaning. This is about as deep as I can go, and yet my bigger achievement is how clear I was in sending my message. As long as you listen well to the lyrics and allow yourself to feel these songs, it is inevitable that you will get what I'm talking about. Including why every now and then, I fall into a suicidal state.

In many ways, this album deals with my "coming of age" in an intellectual level. It exudes a maturity in the sense that with the acceptance of my lopsided mental state, I am able to live better. Or not. I'm not really certain. It's like walking on the edge of a blade. The risks are still there, only this time, my steps are more sure.

I've dedicated this album to the memory of my brother. Because I realized that even if he was the one who was officially diagnosed with a psychological disorder, in a sense we're really not that different.

But enough introductions. PLEASE. Let me share with you another awesome batch of beautiful songs. I assure you that you will feel... changed after listening to it.

 http://www.4shared.com/rar/EW5fAO7R/Electrique_-_HEAD_IN_THE_CLOUD.html

Just click on the blue download link on the upper left side of the webpage above.

Thank you very much for listening to my ramblings.

Love,
Bry