Come, make salsal with me
Ya. I'm supposed to be writing like, a hundred papers for my masters but here I am, blogging/procrastinating because this is what I really have to do.
I was tumatae kanina when I realized how trapped I was, you know, as a panganay, as a student, as a teacher, as a writer. That's when I said to myself, "Gusto kong maging ibon, yung may layang lumipad." Gosh, I'm writing poetry while I'm in the banyo! Ya, I know, it's not entirely original, but I like to think of it as the fusion of tradition and my individual talent.
Later, before I flushed what became of the ginisang tilapia and hot monay and dinuguan and piniritong talong I ate yesterday, I also realized I may have hemorrhoids. But I don't want to discuss the details here, coz you know, I'm not that kind of blogger.
So what else should I write about here? Perhaps I can tell you about the days I spent at Galera last month, maybe post some pictures of me getting a henna tattoo, walking in the white beach, partying with my friends, getting drunk and playing that never-ever-have-i-ever game, but I wouldn't do that. That's what most bloggers do. I'm different. I'm unique.
Besides, that would be so bourgeois. You know, I’m an Atenean, but not the type you read about in blog entries written by makibaka people. I’m a man for others, I have commitment to hope. It’s true! Even if I look so alta sociedad, my heart beats for people who live in, like, Payatas. I haven't really gone there, but I know the people there are really having a bad time. That's why they are pushed to do wrong things like slit the throat of a guy who refused to give his cellphone or marry foreigners they met in cyberspace. We shouldn't judge them. I mean, who should? Kung sino ang walang kasalanan, siya ang unang maghagis ng bato. Wow, ang lalim kong mag-Tagalog. Anyway, this entry is for them.
Last week I was in KFC Katipunan with Joanne. We noticed that a couple eating there was having an LQ. You know, as in lover's quarrel, duh. They left without finishing their food. They did not even touch their mashed potatoes. I told Joanne, what's wrong with these people? Hindi ba nila alam na maraming nagugutom sa Payatas? Then I went to their table, took the mashed potatoes and gave them to the boy selling banana-Q outside. The boy's smile gave me goosebumps. That day I felt that I was really a man for others. And Joanne was very proud of me.
I learned something very important that day: You don't have to be a Mother Theresa to be able to help the poor. You can help alleviate poverty in your own little way.
While in Galera, I talked to Allan Popa (the rockstar-poet) about libog and the face of the other. I told him, let's say you've just bought a copy of the latest issue of FHM, and you're hurrying home because you want to, you know, masturbate while looking at the pictures of Chesca Garcia and Nancy Castiglione. And then on your way to the LRT Katipunan station you see the pulubi in Aurora (If you’re always passing by Aurora on your way to Ateneo, you’ve seen this pulubi – the one with sores and blisters all over his body.) I asked Allan, can you still make jakol after seeing that man's eyes? Allan told me, "Ni hindi ka titigasan nun." Allan Popa, you really are a poet.
Well, that's all for today. Sorry if this is not that organized.
Tired, so tired.
Currently listening to: Sa lahat ng masa