Works in Progress

Karag-karag na Lagaw-lagaw

Initial draft of the CNF submitted in the First Pasig City Writers Workshop

Dear M—,

Naalala mo pa noong college, patay na patay ako sa iyo? Nag-confess ako sa iyo Friday night, tapos nag-break na tayo Monday night, sa may catwalk habang naulan nang malakas at maghihintay ito tumila, kasama ng mga tsismosa nating kabarkada? Sa sobrang lungkot ko, naisip ko bumili ng notebook, at magpalitan tayo ng mga liham sa isa’t-isa, ipapahiram ito bawat gabi, at itinatala ang mga ginawa nating pag-aaral sa maghapon? Hindi ko naisip that it would be my writing style; ang naisip ko noon, gusto kitang makilala, kasama ng pagkilala ko sa mga riles ng PNR bilang main transport natin kapag sabay tayong uuwi after class. Kapag may pagkakataon akong sumabay sa iyo pauwi south-bound, isusugal ko ang oras ng commute at ng mahabang pasensya ng paghihintay sa second to the last trip to San Pedro, kung saan standing sa tren at kakarag-karag, mala-Home Along da Riles circa 2004.

Naalala lang kita nang magawi kami rito sa Albay at nakita ang mga riles na nababalot na ng carabao grass, o natatabunan ng aspalto sa National Road para sa sasakyan, at naisip kong sobrang bonak talaga ng mass transit sa Pinas. Hindi mo mae-enjoy ang magkakawatak at magkakalayong rancho at tourist spot ng Bicol region kung wala kang kotse. Malayong-malayo sa Japan kung saan bawat tourist spot eh may train station sa tabi.

Naisip rin kita nang makilala ko si J—. Galing rin sya sa school natin, pero team-dorm sya, hindi team-riles. Puru siya aral, at never nakasakay ng PNR, kaya ibang-iba ang kwentong promdi niya sa mabangis na lungsod. Nasa bansa na rin sya ng may effective bus transit at hyperinflated car prices kasi maliit ang lupain ng mala-NY na ASEAN nation. ‘Kako sa kanya, ninais ko rin sumulat ng kwentong paglalakbay at pagkakaugnay — sa pamamagitan ng paggamit ng tren. Naalala ko na sinubukan ko yun noong college. Sinubukan ko sa iyo noon.

Parang tayong tren: mga riles ang nagdudugtong sa atin mula sa malalayo, riles din ang mahihiwalay sa atin kapag nasa gitna ito ng tawiran. It bridges the far distances to a close, and yet, we break away if we’re too close. Gusto ko ring isulat ang kabalintunaan ng riles, katulad ng kalakhang maynila na napapalibutan ng balintunay: sa bawat barangay may solo-living sa mataas na condo na kapitbahay na class C at D na bahay na bato at lulan ang isang angkan. Parang tayo, na kahit anong pilit kong lumapit sa iyo noon, kapag hindi uukol, hindi bubukol. Ngayon tuloy, hirap kang igapang ang ipon mo sa mamahaling bilihin ng diaper at isasabay mo pa sa iyong hinuhulugang motor.

But that’s another matter of irony. Hindi babagay sa balak kong isulat.

Na-enjoy ko ang Bicol, M. Kaya lang nalungkot ako kasi sa pag-enjoy ko, kailangan pa ng kaibigan kong humanap ng rent-a-car at puntahan ang mga lugar na may magandang view ng Mayon, at pwedeng picture-an pang-instagram. Kung hindi mo nalalaman, ang lakas ko maka-jeje sa social media. Gusto ko parati akong may picture sa travel ko, lalo na ngayong hindi ako masyado nakakapag-travel na. Kaya siguro hirap din sa pagsusulat, dahil hindi na masyado nakakapaglakbay. Adulting is so hard, I am faced with the challenges of purchasing furnitures and fixtures, that I sometimes losing contact with friends, and even losing sleep. Puru labas ang pera, pero para sa investment naman daw ang sabi nila. Parang sugal, para sa maalwal na pamumuhay.

Sana ganun din ang ating gobyerno, marunong sumugal para sa maalwal na pamumuhay ng mga tao. Kahit man lang sa mga bus na on-time, o sa mga LRT at MRT na dumarating na every two minutes sana. Pinakamaganda, ibalik nila ang long-distance rail transit mula Tayuman hanggang Bicol. Hindi yung puru San Pedro. Iabot na nila hanggang dito sa Albay. Better yet, get it done until Sorsogon. Para wala na akong dahilan bakit hindi ako makatawid ng Leyte. Ang probinsya ng tatay kong aning-aning na at hindi man lang death-ready ngayong matindi na ang sakit niya. Hay, nalulungkot ako na ang Pilipinas ay katulad ng tatay ko: lakas mangutang ng pera, pero hindi man lang maglaan sa kinabukasan. Hipak pa ng bisyo.

Sa pamamagitan ng kotseng hiram ay nakarating ako sa Green Hills ng Quitinday. Hindi ito shopping center oi, literal na berdeng burol na may kubo at matatanaw ang perfect cone kapag naiakyat mo ang lampas 100 steps assault. Eka nila, isang Congressman na raw ang bumili nito. Revoked ang ancestral domain. Wala man lang malasakit. Paano na kapag nagkaroon ng 100% ownership sa saligang batas? Hindi ako against sa ganung economic policy, pero kung hindi epektibo ang Tax Code nating circa 1977, paano natin masisingil ang mga panginoong maylupa, di ba? Hindi nga rin effective ang AMLA natin kasi andami paring naglalaba ng pera sa mga casino eh. Laba-pera habang nanonood ng Broadway. Ganun ang burgis way. Sometimes, free check-in for a patron. Oha, maging permanent resident ka lang ng sugalan para tuluy-tuloy ang money integrating. Hindi ko lang alam kung alam mo pa ang ibig kong sabihin; hindi ka na accountant, di ba? Nasa call center ka ng payables-receivables, kung saan mas nakaka-relate ka kung paano magsesettle ng mga credit card bills ng misis mo, kaka-hoard ng mga baby supplies sa Lazada kada buwan.

Sa dami ng gusto kong isulat kapag ako ay naglalakbay, hindi ko na maipili ano ang uunahin ko. Katulad ng paggamit ko sa notebook natin, parang dumpster lang ng mga iniisip ko ang notes app dito sa phone. Mas maganda ang tech ngayon, all of these are stored in a cloud. Hindi katulad ng notebook natin na nawawala na nang makita ni mama ito at itinambak sa kung saan, tapos ayun, Ondoy happened.

I just wanted to write about travel and connections and yet here we are: me trying again to connect to you via this epistolary exposition and you not knowing where I was and what I am doing. Kaya heto ako, nakahigang nagta-type habang tanaw ang mahiyaing Mayon.

So. Kumusta?

Need.

First draft of a poem catered for a spoken-word event that never happened.

19 Feb 20xx

19:20

Hi.

Baler.

Now?

Yes. Now. Need.

You know where I am?

Not yet.

Room 2019.

Drive or grab?

I don’t care.

Basement 2.

Slot 19. It’s empty.

Ok.

I work full time tonight.

19 o’clock.

Til?

Til 2.

Then you do you.

Ok.

Are you sure?

Not for me to say.

Are you sure?

No. But—

I mean, I can. Can’t I?

Always.

So…

See you.

Tonight.

Yes, tonight.

We’ll see each other.

But please—

No more gaps.

We love, and

Give in tonight.

Eye to eye.

No thoughts.

No words.

Just feelings.

And this midnight meeting.

Sulking and Burrito

Initial draft of the CNF submitted to Anselmo Press

Newsflash: my SoKor trip is now cancelled, thanks to that Daegu cult activity infecting around 80 in one go. It has been more than a year since the girls booked the promo flights, more than a month to check on available hotels and rough-drafting the itinerary (especially Korean skincare shopping). We even got our visas approved, hoping that this new wave of SARS won’t catch us. One of the girls almost got her visa on cancelled status, but was all a bluff — only to find out that we are cancelling the travel 48 hours before the actual flight.

I even prepared for a week-long leave for this, only to realize that the #HeySeoulSistas hashtag will not be appearing on my instagram feed. Hays, andaming tampo na, good thing I can avail this day as a leave.

So, instead of a Seoul day, today is designed to be Errands day. I am tasked to pay all outstanding bills, to recheck all my savings, and to buy groceries and medicine for Mama. After that, I deserve to have a date. You have to take me to dinner. We talked about this: cancel flight = extra moments for us. You said this can be done, “Ano ba naman yang Corona, hindi naman tayo mamamatay diyan.”

Tasks ticked, sunset came and went. I text you:

Nasaan ka na? Bakit hindi ka nagme-message?!

By nighttime, I feel resigned. It has been a day of errands sans date. You stood me up. I have a feeling that you have no reliever on your ER shift (which is most likely, news always mention the lack of medical personnel and our dismal healthcare). Heck, you never replied. It’s another episode of a solo dinner. No, I am so used to eating alone, and so used to promises being kept, this is why I am sulking. Andami ko na ngang tampo, dumagdag ka pa.

Today I learned that: I go to this specific Army Navy bistro and sulk away my clingyness by eating their Burritos. I dunno, if I keep track of all the errands day, this will be the third time. What a perfect night to revolt, actually — I go to that very place you aren’t fond of, like a rebel soldier joining the resistance, eating dishes that you don’t like.

Everytime I go to this place, I have assigned myself a mission. It’s all straightforward, no room for rants and raves. I am drafted to order straight to the counter, taking mental notes of each and every item on the menu. You read the green sign. There’s Steak, Chicken, Carnitas; there’s Vegetable burrito. The more I feel the need to sulk, the more I eat their PI varieties – Adobo Flakes and Sisig baboy. PI may mean Private investigator, but for me, it was my personal trashtalk to the circumstances – Putangina. “Mam paorder po ng putangina burrito – the Adobo flakes, yes.”

I position myself next to the spicy condiments – the Green Chili sauce with one month expiry, the Caracoles ageing six months, and that seemingly artificial salsa hot sauce, with an age of at least two years. Then there’s salt and pepper, the typical couple go-tos when you feel the need for splashing additional taste.

However, I’d still stick to that fresh Salsa by the counter. The same salsa that you loathe, because of its distinct aroma. And you don’t like its aftertaste. Realizing this throughout our dates, my mind blasted to that side dish, took a cupfull and let its smell reek in me. This, I believe, is my weapon, for sulking tonight. I imagine you squirming and telling me to take it away, and I will guffaw at your pathetic defeat. I should eat this with gusto, ASAP.

PI Burrito comes and I look at it: MESSY. But its colors and its variety, it kind of shades my dark mood. The cover, albeit a plain wheat, has a strong mexican aroma. Top it with Caracoles and some splash of Salsa, the mind zones out from sulking and in to munching.

I eat the whole lot in less than 10minutes – swallowing like a real soldier. Suddenly, my sulking dissipated. I don’t feel mad at the world, or at the circumstance of the little reality that caused my sulking. In a span of 10-minute self-diner date, I forgot the truth that I got stood up, and I received a message to confirm it: you are extending your ER shift tonight. I go out of that bistro with a sigh and a happy tummy. After all, “Come in Hungry, Walk out Happy.”

So, sulking addressed and done. I choose to understand. I walk home and turned on the TV. It is only later tonight that my mission changed. No more of the green and white interiors. No more of the status of being drafted. And no more happy tummy. Because my tummy got worried upon the President’s announcement that effective immediately, the whole Luzon is now declared under Enhanced Community Quarantine (ECQ).

There will be no Sulking, there will be no Burrito rebellion. There is only a Pandemic.

Naruto Dimple

First Draft of Ani41 Submission. Names are deliberately changed so that those who knew the characters will not be stalked. Him and his self-absorbed social media footprint.

It was Day3 of the Vietnam itinerary. Desert sunrise trip cancelled because of the rain from the prior day, so we opted to visit Cu Chi tunnels. All tours are unavailable, so we embarked ourselves on a DIY trip. We used to do conversations in transit so on the bus ride, we continued in our nostalgic narratives.

Of course, with our senses at jumpstart, we re-discussed the day’s logistics, expected expenses, and re-calculation of the ETDs and ETAs. Where to eat will come at a certain point, we were not hungry yet. Then comes those wishful thinking about goals for the family. I mentioned, “As long as buhay si Mama, I soldier on”. He planned to create a grander ancestral home, a big place for a reunion whenever he comes home.

Today, I wonder if he is into that goal still or he just say it to symphatize with me and my large family…?

It suddenly got shifted to the books we read (and I knew at once that he is not a reader, he was just saying the books he curiously browsed in his younger years), Game of Thrones memes (because I have little interest in doing a marathon of the whole series), and next travel plans (Dubai on November 2020, Tokyo on Olympics was also proposed).

“Si Grace andun sa Japan.”

“Grace? Ex mo?”

“Oo, yung pinakahuli.”

Then he goes along with their backstory, on how a third party came into equation, who’s losing who, and how the new boyfriend overlapped their “sila pa” episodes. He also explained the little things that caused the breakup: lapses in video calls, zero “I love you” declarations, and the fail of the routinary Hello and Goodnight’s. He then stated about being too noisy in facebook, about relationshits being very glaring in social media.

“Kaya ba ganyan ka-self-absorbed ang Facebook and Instagram mo?”

“Oo. ang hirap bumalik sa nakaraan at isa-isa mo syang binubura. Kamukha nun si Mikee Cojuangco, alam mo ba yun? Dalawa dimples sa labi.”

The actress got me triggered. I was that Mikee Cojuangco!!! I remembered my parents saying those because of the similarity with my smile.

“Tumingin ka saken nang maayos! Dalawa rin ang dimple ko, may naruto dimple pa nga ako oh! Biloy lang yan! Alam mo, ang kailangan mo ay hindi [Move on], kundi [Move forward]! Ang kailangan mo ay ang taong makakatanggap ng past mo na yan.”

I was a that point that I wanted to hit him with this punchline “Kasi ako, tanggap kita!”

But I can’t.

I just looked out at the window, a boiling passion dissipated. Clouds from this little black kettle meddled with thin air. I just stared at this motorcycle city called Ho Chi Minh, hoping he felt what I wanted to say.

All I sensed was silence.

Perhaps, that’s how it should all end: with silence.