cathartic exhibitionism

mood: cheerful music: Midnite - Meditation (Babylon Fruits)

  6:24 am

Just got home after
another eve to morn exhortation over tea and coffee at Greenbelt 3. ran
into Eleven Dangilan, the cousin of one of my former lovers, who’s
vacationing here after years of working in Brunei after graduation. he
was with his cousin, Giulia Piñeda, another Pisay friend who’s also
bumming around before plunging into the job market. ah, well, times are
indeed a-changing (though I’m STILL an undergrad and my last 3 units of
Macrofuckinomics and thesis are tangible obstacles to my shimmering
academic freedom. was with Jay and JJ, lacerating the air with our
deep-seated angst and long repressed issues. hehe. i suppose we were
just trying to stretch our atrophied brains in an effort to impart
faith, albeit in an edgy way.

mood: aggravated music: Lacuna Coil - Angel’s Punishment

the witching hour is the best time for
ruminating on the events of the day, especially the little foibles
characteristic of human nature.

first,
was my uncanny ability to magnetize dregs of society while riding
public transportation. around 3am, I was accosted by a gregariously
drunk asshole (who wasn’t really bad-looking but he sure as hell was
pesky) who suddenly fancied a conversation of sorts:

Asshole: Anong course mo?
Vida: (silence)
Asshole: Miss, anong course mo?
Vida: (pulls out a book and peers intently at the shaky sentences)
Asshole: taga-UP ka, ano? ako, Criminology sa TIP, ikaw?
Vida: (looks up and returns to book)
Asshole:
Alam mo, natutuwa ako sa iyo, basa ka ng basa! Ako rin, maraming libro
sa amin. Ayan na nga bahay ko, o (points to obscure apartment). Saan ka
ba bababa? Sa dulo ka ba?
Vida: (looks at direction of alleged house) O, bakit hindi ka bumaba?
Asshole: Kasi hahatid kita. Babantayan kita, miss. Anong name mo?
Vida: (reads book again, then goes down at J.P. Rizal cor. P.Tuazon, heading to drugstore)
Asshole: (alights jeepney and follows doggedly)
Vida:
(calls father on payphone for sundo and whispers to pharmacist) Ate,
kapag sinundan ako ng mamang iyan, tumawag kayo ng pulis, ha?
Pharmacist: Boypren mo ba ‘yan? Mukhang lasing, ah?
Vida: Hindi, ‘ no! Sumunod lang sa akin pagbaba ko sa jeep! Ewan ko ba!
Pharmacist and Yosi Vendor: (laughs) eh, hindi talaga aalis yan.
Vida: (calls on payphone again to be preoccupied)
Asshole:
Ganda, huy, ganda! Huy! Huy! Bakit hindi ka namamansin? Huy, ganda!
(puts on shades) Sungit mo naman! (burps) Yan, o, nadidighay na nga ako
dahil sa iyo. huy, ganda, can we talk?
Vida: (pretends to ignore Asshole, talks to Pharmacist)
Asshole: Ganda, saan ba bahay mo? May boyfriend ka na? Can we talk? (moves closer, swaggers a bit)
Vida: (saunters to other side of sidewalk)
Asshole:
Huy, ganda, can we talk? hindi ako uuwi kung hindi mo ako kausapin
(motions to little bench near sidewalk) sige na, dito na tayo, ganda.
Vida: (calls on payphone again)
Asshole: Ganda, sinong hinihintay mo? Sige na, please? Please? Can we talk? (leers and sits on parked car)
Vida:
PWEDE BA? UNA SA LAHAT, HINDI KITA KILALA, LASING NA LASING KA, BUMABA
KA SA JEEP AT SINUNDAN MO AKO, SA TINGIN MO, ANONG DAPAT GAWIN KO?
KARAPATAN KONG MANAHIMIK! NAKAKA-FREAK OUT KA! UMUWI KA NA NGA!
Asshole: Ay, ganun? (sits on sidewalk and looks nauseated) Basta, aabangan kita.
Vida: (runs to approaching vehicle of parent) Papa, bilis, this drunk guy has been pestering me kanina pa! Tara na, bilis!
Papa: Where?! Bugbugin ko o kausapin ko?!
Vida: Ayan, naka-shades at black shirt. Yuck! Basta, tara na!
Papa: (drives by Asshole and raises a fist, threatens him)
Asshole: (looks scared and surprised)

as
we drove away, I looked at the rearview mirror and voila: the asshole
was waving goodbye! Sicko! I’m gonna have to arm myself with pepper
spray again.

*****************

after my ECON101 class,
texted Irene Amatorio for lunch. I was, after all, broke and hungry. I
could feel four cold 5-peso coins in my pocket, my sole treasure for
the day, since my parents forgot about me again when they left early
for work. went to the Advanced Science and Technology Institute in
front of the Math building. talked about all things wise and wonderful
about being a working student (Ryne goes to Law School at night; I have
a part time project). talked about a revolution of the heart and a
heart for the revolution.

*****************

dinner at
Oysterboy Araneta Center, home of the P28 beer and fresh oysters from
the Visayas. was with my former Perspective editor/ resident poet,
Christopher Nuyles. i think i’ve been touching base with so many relics
from the past that it just makes me think of precisely how transitory
things are.

mood: awake music: Veruca Salt - Morning Sad

  "in a just and generous society you don’t have to be rich to achieve your potential" - Barack Obama

it
is 4:21 am and my uterus is once again accursed with the bane of Eve’s
daughters. ahh, damn that 28-day cycle. anyway, thank heavens I was
able to ingest several hundred milligrams of Diclofenac Potassium and a
few Red Horses to ease the cramping. Sigh. Someone should invent a
sanatorium for women’s reproductive health or something, just to help
us recuperate or at best, recover from the vestiges of deep-seated
issues that manifest through physiological aches and pains and hormonal
imbalances and malignant growths.

Just came from Telesforo "Jun"
Sungkit Jr. and Liza’s wedding reception at the Senior’s Social Garden
in UP Los Baños — a nice, frothy pink (ecchhh)-themed nuptial with
rose garlands and a cute pair of wedding singers (the bride’s
siblings). the guests (well, at least, those who were still there) were
beguiled by the renditions of standard JS Prom songs and a Disney
Classic (ah, I wanted to flail my hair ala-Pocahontas when they started
singing Colors of the Wind). since I was late, I missed the exchange of
vows but at least, i was able to witness the poetry reading portion of
the program which, in my opinion, was even more consecrated than any
other Catholic display of sacramental bondage. various poet-comrades of
Jun stood up and assiduously entwined verses lauding requited love. saw
my Mom’s friend, Vivian A. Gonzales, former Dean of Student Affairs and
nemesis of the left-leaning USC’98-’00, and exchanged niceties. as
usual, I felt so ill at ease in the presence of an adult who just
might, you know, report my activities to my clueless parents. the whole
event was a tibak reunion of sorts as old friends came together and
donned barongs instead of stereotypical torn maong and silkscreen
printed shirts with political slogans. of course, a state of ennui
always creeps in after the caterers have packed up and the chattering
lulls into sporadic pauses so I, together with Gomer Padong (my
‘half-brother’) and Dexter Cayanes (my favorite Hum2 teacher) decided
to leave and drink a few bottles… Gomer rode home w/ Elna.

We
went to the office of Artist Inc. nestled in the dense foliage of
Carbern near Bayan to drop of Dex’s MA thesis: "Ang Paghuhulagpos ng
mga Dula at mga Dula ng Paghuhulagpos sa UP Los Baños (1970-2000)" and
found ourselves in the middle of a cultural night. Of course, Dex
burped out a poem, since Rica Palis introduced him as a "Makata." i, on
the other hand, was reduced to an inordinately quivering mass of
nerves. I sang a callow, shaky version of Joey Ayala’s "Walang Hanggang
Paalam" and totally got lost amidst Rica Saturay-Palis’s lovely
guitar-plucking. hah! I MUST learn to overcome my stage fright lest I
continue making a fool of myself even in the most informal gatherings.
hehe. even Moses, the Ugandan Devcom gradschool student, delivered a
speech of sorts about Rastafarianism; Comartsoc’s best kept secret,
Kiko, performed a monologue about his pencil; Jenny read a Cebuano
poem; an Indian priest narrated the Ramayana’s plot; Rica sang and sang
and sang. the best part, I must say, was the impassioned tripartite
discussion at our table. I felt like a sponge, absorbing everything and
nothing, imbibing thoughts of these iconoclastic cultural icons. it was
all very enlightening as I asked about my "organizational issues" and
the experience of "participatory development work" in the context of
people’s theatre. sarap.

As Dex and I rode the jeep to
Alabang/Expressway from Crossing, Calamba, I realized that indeed, if
we were in a just and generous society, then material wealth would not
be a prerequisite to achieving potentials. So many cases throughout
history, ranging from Demosthenes to the phenomenal J.K. Rowling, are
tales of rags to riches or persecution to praise. Thus, he was saying
that I should stop boxing myself in oldskool psychology and drowning in
my tendency to overanalyze relationships (my family, my orgmates,
random souls seated across in the jeep). I was just bursting with
questions even if the wind merely carried my voice away and made it
such a struggle to converse without the other passengers hearing.

While
walking home, I was glad that my jacket was thick, my boots kept my
feet warm and I finally have my own keys to the door and the gate.
Sigh. Another excellent weekend spent inciting a rebellion of the
senses. Hehe.