How is your recent life in Idaho? And why are you not texting me? Do you enjoy your trips on that other side of the world?
So. In the next days of our lives, we shall spend in silence? Like minding ourselves be sucked in our respective worlds, watching our own interests in a nook called a mobile phone? What about the conversations that we used to have? When I tried to engage in sharing my stories, you just dismiss it with a humorless jest, and making it repetitive, a routine unconscientiously performed after days—fuck it, months—of absence?
It feels convoluted, meeting this person.
Does this mean that I learn to settle in this dynamic that bears no joy, not even a high, “for now”?
Intellectualize this: Were you an absent partner on your previous marriage, resulting to a third party you caught in the act? If yes, most likely, your history will repeat itself. You are now on the brink of reprising the role your absent father did to your mother.
And its absence lingered on this timeline.
I miss you. I am sorry for being this destructive and resentful. It is tough managing an avoidant.
I love you. But sometimes, I do not love you because of what we have now. “Out of sight, out of mind.”
And I do not want to hate myself for it. I guess this is how our love works, right?
Sometimes, the kilig comes as a huge tsunami wave whenever you come home and we share the silent space together, and yet, sometimes I am resenting that same silence whenever we independently face our own struggles.
I think this is our kind of love, right? And after all these years, I am still navigating this with sonder and wonder that maybe our storyline is not as unique as the others. Maybe, we have that sentiment that is transcendent, like the novels that we read.
Maybe at the end of the day, loving is about choosing.
And even though moments hurt and memories fade, I choose you.
Break or no break, E.
Poetics: Actual submission to the JFF25 contest in facebook page. I hope to win free tickets or anything. If I don’t win, meh, then you see my thought process in my current struggle of not seeing my date in the last five months of our lives.
Book Review of All The Lonely People by Kannika Claudine Peña
In one of our kotse chronicles, dok bb mentioned that he doesn’t cry much because his tear ducts are tinier than any other person. Instead, whenever he feels like crying, it was his runny nose doing the deed. Whenever he feels deep sadness, he said, “kinokotse ko lang. huling hagulgol ko ay yung huling heartbreak ko eh.” I guess at least with movement, he can find his release (without judging his runny nose and his huge mess of used tissue paper).
Movement and mementos are the big themes in Kannika’s first novel of remembering loss and its adjacent emotions of grief, and how we have found ourselves looking for a company to share our loneliness with. With company comes empathy and reason, and may it not be a concrete form of happiness, but rather a release and a relief. Then hope. After all, hope if what gives us tenacity to brave the rage we experience everyday in the Metro.
Mandirigmang imortal, amirite?
If you are burned out from the daily life of the Metro, this time may not be a perfect chance to read the novel. Maybe this book is meant for people who wanted to enjoy the slow days in their homes, or want to relish the feeling of rawness of emotions. I can only opine on my reading experience, since I finished the whole book during the hours when the Globe Internet is down in Pasig area.
The six stories in the novel were done in a “hand-off” fashion, where the omniscient POV is moved from one character to another, its main goal is to share their little sob story. At the center of it all is Marya, and her own history of loss and longing for company, her sentiments poured out to the Lost and Found Logbook of the old Apartelle where she is currently working (and living in).
What I liked about the novel is how the story weaves and how it pulls the emotions out of me. I feel that my chest hurt everytime I read a snippet of their sad histories, and at some instances, I see my persona as a composite from the characters in the novel. I reflected at the what-ifs (like, if I was Gemma, will I still be ok managing my mother if she has Alzheimer’s?) I even see my work colleague in Cindy’s story. I loved how relatable the stories are. Also, the author has effectively inserted her criticisms in our love for sad tropes (“Sadness that sells because it’s everyone’s sadness”), the dismal commute and horrendous traffic (“This city has no time for your heartbreak. So you move on”), and her leeway to explain why there are tendencies to romanticize this chaotic city (“But perhaps she’s looking for a way to feel again”). The universality of stories and the feelings it evoked within me are remarkable. For less than 30 pages, I shed my tears as if the loss was my own. Good thing I don’t have dok beside me because it is hard to explain why are you crying over a page you just read.
I think what wanes the reading experience for a bit is my introduction to Cindy’s story. It felt abrupt. It’s the sudden insertion, nothing weave-like. I was so used to the chaotic EDSA or slower moments in Pasay (where I think Via is from), and then Cindy opened her story with “Pillow crease on face.” The momentum faltered from there. And just before the novel ended, the connection was made too convenient. Also, I personally felt that the stories of queer characters (Jona and Dan Ian, respectively) are tokens of inclusivity. Nonetheless, they are relevant stories. Including their snippets means that all of us walk and manage the loneliness of everyday.
What redeemed me in the end is the seemingly magical realism / romantic narrative at the bus station that even I (as the reader) was rooting for. That was so effective! It feels like watching the final sequence of Kimi No Nawa, two total strangers on the different lines of trains getting off on stations abruptly and meeting at the Suga Shrine.
“It’s possible to be content with whatever and whoever is right there, even and especially with the knowledge that they will soon be gone, that nothing lasts forever—love, happiness, but also heartbreak, sadness, pain.” And I thank this novel for giving me back my reading groove again, after managing the more challenging novels at the first half of the year. Thanks to Kannika for giving me a chance to slow down and just cry it out and breathe.
Published in the Literary Tuesdays of Mountain Beacon
Code Blue
My beloved is loving again. Not with my letters. Not with my pictures. But with that Emergency Room.
Again.
SLEX
I do not know how to drive. But that night, I have found out two things: (1) You hear the need to change oil by the engine hum; and (2) In this expressway we overtake on the left. After being alone for years, you let those cars passed, while I sit with this stillness, letting the roaring cars deafen our stable hum. At that moment, we have created our own little bubble floating in its own pace. Inside are two overaged high schoolers feeling nervous and giddy when they clasped each other’s hands for the first time.
Eyes are on the road while our ears are seizing the all these details: hums, roars, honks… and our beating hearts.
Talking Stage
What constitutes a good conversation? Up to what extent should a talk be THE TALK? Are scheduled questions enough? Are daily updates sufficient? Should we engage in outpouring our sentiments EVERY DAY?
It is what it is — a routine. A breakout from banality of being Corporate Slaves (capitalized, because CAPITALISM). We do not have to be hipsters and expound the question of: “Kumain ka na ba?”
Come on! Yes, we do crave connections, but what if the other side is not as eloquent as you? Do you demand an answer in a form of: “I see a couple focused on their phones as they eat and drink, seeking connections from faraway distances, rather than focusing on what’s 5 inches beyond the handheld.”
Tita na ako kaya HUWAG KANG OA. “Mamaya” is good enough.
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.
mariaellabetos.com 