Monthly Archives: July 2010

My Pimples Never Lie

My pimples never lie. They burst out like an angry Arab mob out of my greasy pores when my unconscious falls into anarchy (though the unconscious is already in a constant state of chaos). They burn. They itch. They make me want to grill my face with a red-hot iron and condemn the whole world for its infinity of sins and cheesy religious rituals.

My unconscious never lies.

I smile calmly before friends but deep inside that black hole, I am wasting away at the bloodcurdling truth that she will leave me in a matter of weeks. If you’re curious about how an utterly lonely man feels, I’ll tell you how. It usually feels like deliberate indifference and forgetfulness, which it IS exactly in every single way. One cannot smell right or see right; mostly just a haze of colors and scents in a crumpled day. One cannot remember.

Some two nights ago, I dreamed we were chased by vampires. Brown vampires, not Meyer’s pretty pale vampires. We were running down a flight of stairs we painfully hike with our mouths agape everyday. We were hopping, skipping, careful not to trod on something and crash. It was a losing battle, so I woke up.

It doesn’t take a Freud to see that I’m running away from the future, which has recently synchronized its meaning with the word “failure.” Future and failure mean almost the same thing to me now despite my efforts at fighting back the clouds of doubt and the bloodsucking vampires. Though I love her with all my heart and soul, this darkness has blanketed my sight with the sleekest, clearest blindness and I can’t see beyond.

Friends say I should apply for a scholarship. In Canada. Or Japan.
My mom just wants to be assured of the monthly rice allowance.
Gates have to be opened for “wire cutters.”
She’s leaving.
It’s hard to get a fuckin’ job.
The axe is nearing my neck.
She’s leaving. Perhaps forever if I can’t make it out of this shithole of a homeland.
All the while I’m forgetting things, succumbing to an illness brought about by years of paranoia.
Did I say my love is leaving?

———–

It’s nice to shop around malls for things she can bring on her trip. She’s careful not to buy clothes she can’t use in the merciless cold of that country. So basically, I’m helping her get out because I’m the best man to do that. It’s always the greatest irony and tragedy when the guy who doesn’t want to let go helps the girl to fly away.

And she sells things ladies love. I joked that she’s selling our memories. Every dress she posts online is invested with days and nights of experiences engraved in my mind and my skin. Funny how customers fight over them like wolves under a juicy piece of meat dangling from a tree, blood trickling. Had they known how precious they were, they will probably stay away from them and bow to them, like they were sacred temples.

But they have to be sold. They are of no use to us anymore.

————

Chemae’s friends know she is a special person like I do. From here on out, her Facebook wall will just continue to unroll a kilometre of farewells, sad jokes and goodbyes. I’ll make sure to add my own bits because in the end, I’m just another guy in the crowd who will wave at her from underneath the plane. Not even literally ’cause she won’t let me be there on her departure. God, we all love her. But please allow me this — I love her the most.

Fuck, this entry is gloomy.

And that’s why my pimples are here to stay and they never lie.

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Filed under Life, Love

A Growing Problem with Communism

I’ve got a growing problem with leftist thinkers and people who associate themselves with the revolutionary movement. I used to be really comfortable with Marxist thought, the idea of communism, and even revered the people who had the balls to say they were “red” in the university. At one point, I even considered myself some sort of a closet Marxist even though I thoroughly believe in postmodernism, especially Nietzsche.

But somehow, I guess I’ve lost that fire. I cannot say with a straight face anymore that I want society to be communist, whatever that kind of society is. I know leftists would simply think of my condition as the victory of alienation over the human agent. Capitalist society had triumphed in infusing my being with ideology; and now I feel that everything here will last forever, and as such, I should just go with the flow like the million other deadwood of existences floating in this murky river of injustice.

Maybe they are right.

But what I wouldn’t concede is they are completely right. First of all, I still admire and support this movement to distribute the resources of society more equally. No one wants our fellowmen to die of hunger on the streets, or our farmers shot dead, or our women raped. That’s common sense. But what irks me now, as it never irked me before, is the idea of helping society push forward to that glorious moment of revolution. Continue reading

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Filed under Random Thoughts

Surfing for Love

How many candidates will you turn down and feed to the lions until you choose the one to spend your life with? This postmodern life has blinded us with infinite options. We’ve ran so far away from the imposed choices of archaic times that it seems like we forgot to check where we’re headed; and now we find ourselves standing in the middle of nowhere, surrounded on all sides by giant shelves of options stacked up to the heavens. You don’t just eat your food. You choose from innumerable varieties of fast-food, packed ready-to-eat meals, luxurious entrees, junkfoody snacks, the old home-cooked kind and everything else in the maze of the grocery store. Similarly, no one’s forcing you to become a lawyer, a doctor or an engineer. As long as you have enough money to fuel your ambitions, you can be anyone: a fashion designer, a Web entrepreneur; or you can ruin your life in the classic rebellious act just for the existential experience. You thought cable TV before had a ridiculously long list of channels, but when the Internet popped up, our idea of entertainment went from “ridiculous long lists” to “infinite and unknowable boundaries.”

And then of course there’s love. Since we’re so used to choosing, we treat relationships like surfing the Web or shopping in a massive grocery store. We just know that somewhere in this long line of brands that stretch up to the horizon, is the “right” guy or girl who will make us happy. Time is of the essence, so we can’t be bothered to check an item thoroughly. We browse it, scan it, get a summary of its ideas before we move on to the next one, which might be better equipped with qualities that feel “right.” We’re faster than HR people when deliberating applicants. Continue reading

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Filed under Love, Random Thoughts

Pasok Lang sa Gitna

Pasok, labas
Hanggang tubuan ng puting balbas
‘Di yayaman, magkakautang-utang
Hanggang matigok ng may limang anak.

Isang bumbay na mayaman
Isang edukadong iskwater
Magtatagpo sa isang malamig pa sa bangkay
Na call center

Ilang buwan lang empake nanaman
Di ka pa nakaporma sa cute mong officemate
Nasibak ka na kaagad
Dahil sa BPO, ‘di dadami ang torpe sa Pinas.

Inom sa Biyernes
Isaw, langaw, sukang di matapus-tapos
Pagdating ng Lunes, tingin sa Biyernes
Isaw, langaw, sukang di matapus-tapos

Kape, yosi, alak
Suka, tae, pera
Pilipino, Bumbay, Kano
Kape, yosi, alak

Apply sa Makati, Eastwood, Ortigas
Ayaw sa Jollibee, Mcdo, Chowking
Hindi rin nurse, dancer, domestic helper
Pera, pera, pera

Hindi inakala ang kahihinatnan
Akala dati magiging abogado (Gago!)
Ngunit ngayon ipit na ipit sa MRT
Sandal-ulo sa basang kili-kili

Pasok, labas
Hanggang matuyot ang utak
Iiwan ng iba, malilimutan ng lahat
Pasok, labas, pasok, labas, anak lang ng anak.

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Filed under Poems