Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Unfinished, Kindness

I wanted to write an entry for the Palanca 2014 but couldn't quite make it. I am this unfinished piece of work and it's a bad and good thing. Bad due to the fact that I can't push myself to finishing this article even though I sorely wanted to. Good because I know that there's still room for me to grow.

This is a snippet of my story. It is raw, unedited, and almost unfiltered. Maybe this piece will find itself inside an envelope and make its way to its original destination. But for now, this tiny space will have to do.


Kindness is a word that I try to familiarize myself with. It’s because no matter what happens, I find reasons to be unkind to people; even to those who matter the most to me. And now, I’m writing a laundry list of the things that I’ve done that need to be washed and washed again. It’s a dirty job but I know that I need to do this.

Life has been good for me. I really couldn’t complain. I graduated from a respectable school, I had friends and family who supported me all throughout my studies and now, I’m working as a copywriter for a foreign company. If this isn’t sweet and splendid, then I don’t know what is. I look at all of this as a great kindness shown to me by the many powers that I can’t understand. Maybe it’s God’s hidden hand that move all these things to go towards the direction I’m in or if it’s just destiny that predetermines these rewards.

To be honest, I have a weird way of looking at things. I tend to be a pessimist when it comes to good times. I always have a weird gut feel that after the good times come, something terrible is going to happen and it’s just waiting around the corner to drain the color out of me. It’s true and that’s why I always reserve something before ending the festivities. And when the lights go dim, the drinks have been emptied and the food has been feasted upon, my anxiety towards the supposed bad things that are going to happen just grow bigger than ever. It dawns on me that the good times just pass on and that I have to brace myself for the coming hits. Or maybe it’s just a stupid belief that I have.

Although I said earlier that life has been good, it doesn’t really mean that everything has become smooth sailing. The mere 5 years I spent in college was not really a walk in the park for me. For the first two years, I believed that college was the best thing that has ever happened to me and that the beer and hard liquor won’t stop pouring and that the good things in life will get handed to me right after I get that stupid piece of paper that they call a diploma. It was the greatest lie I tried so hard to believe in. But when reality hit me in the face that I was a jobless, skill-less, wasting third-year college student who had a baby on the way with his also young girlfriend, the game changed. It was no longer a game. And I found it so hard to see kindness in what kind of a card life had dealt me. It was a complete and total change of everything I imagined.

Gone were the future parties, the possible hook-ups and meets with young and foolish people who had nothing but their youth to hold on to. Now, it was all about finishing school, trying to graduate on time or in the shortest time possible, saving up for the hospital bills, moonlighting on our free time and saying sorry to our parents who were clearly disappointed in what had happened. Kindness became an elusive thing for me. I felt that I was given a harsh lesson on life and that what I needed to do was become spiteful and bitter. I was turned black with disappointment in myself and the “good life” I had always known. I felt betrayed in the strongest sense of the word.

And so my journey began. I tried my hardest to reassure my girlfriend that we’re going to get through all of it and smile when we look back at the hard times. It was us against the world. We soldiered through our studies and finished school. Her parents were obviously hard on her. I get it. It was not an easy thing to swallow. Having your youngest daughter stay with you while she was with child was not a thing you let slip so easily. They schooled us every day with their terse remarks and austere affection. It pained me to see my girlfriend go through all of those things because of what we had done. I felt helpless, I felt small. Again, I felt as if the kindness in the world was going the opposite direction we were headed.

Although now that I think about it, the cold treatment they showed us was not an effort to shun us for what had happened. It was done in order to toughen us up. They took us in, helped us learn hands-on when it comes to dealing with things that are now beyond our control. Her parents drove hard bargains and at first we didn’t understand. But that was their way of showing that we are not the sum of our past deeds however disappointing they were. We were weaned on the gritty lessons in their home. I realize now that maybe they thought it best to give us the challenge instead of letting people who don’t really understand a thing about what we were going through judge us for our mess. Now that burden of betrayal I was talking about earlier start to feel light, they are being lifted from our shoulders and thrown into the wind. Maybe if they were showy, they would have given us a tap on the shoulder and a thrift nod. No more, no less. It will mean the world to me to see that happen but nevertheless I am thankful for what they have and have not done for us. I am immensely thankful.

My parents and I are not really close until that fateful event happened. I still remember the phone call I had made to my mom when we confessed to my girlfriend’s parents that we were expecting. Everything’s still fresh in my memory – my trembling voice, the crackling of my sobs and the loving tone of my mother’s voice. There was a long silence before my voice started shaking and the tears began to flow. “Mom, my girlfriend’s pregnant. I don’t know what to do.” “Are you sure?” “Yes.” “Come home. Straight away.” And so I did. The first few steps I took inside the house felt like a distant memory but the hollow feeling is still memorable. The ten steps I needed to get inside the house felt like great strides – laborful and forced. Walking during that moment became a task. And when I saw my mom’s face, I couldn’t help but breakdown and just embrace her for the kindness she showed me. My father was about to go home from a trip abroad. I confessed and he just gave me a tight hug. I told them the whole story and they were with me every day since. They backed me up on every decision, gave nothing but the best counsel and took nothing from me but my qualms and the seething pain. It hurt me because I felt that I had disappointed them but they never were disappointed. They told me that time and time again. It was a kindness that I still aim to repay, one way or another. The burden was starting to lift itself from my shoulders.

There is always this belief that I’ve had when it comes to dealing with the good stuff that comes my way. I see myself as a very fortunate person. I use the term “fortunate” since I really don’t believe in the idea of luck. It’s one of the many weird quirks that I have. And after being a father at 19, I somehow believed that I lived off the kindness of people. I always looked at the nice things that have happened in my life as works of charity and that these people are merely being kind to some unfortunate fellow. I couldn’t complain about that but being a proud person (it’s a trait I’m not personally fond of,) it was definitely hard for me to swallow all of those things. Even the people who knew my story were thought of doing what they have done just out of pity. Although, I do know better to think of them in that manner.

But now I understand that people are kind because that’s the way we are wired. It is innate in every human being, even the despicable ones we so loathe in society or shun in our everyday lives. Kindness just happens although you’d need a conscious effort to keep being kind not only to others but to yourself. It’s one of the greatest gifts that mankind can possess. It can prevent wars, it can mend wounds, and create better and stronger bonds or relationships. What good about it is that it can come from the most unexpected places, people, and deeds.

Going back to my laundry list, I really have a lot of people to give thanks to. But I’ll just start with a few from the top of my head. And my advisors during my last years in college will get this ball rolling. Two of my most trusted and admired professors became my advisors in a lot of things during my years in college. Aside from mentoring me inside the classroom where they both taught communication courses, they managed to take me under their wings when it came to the other lessons I couldn’t learn in the classroom. And not only that, they gave me nothing but the best counsel there is. And maybe that’s partly because they’re both mothers – one being a cool matriarch who always has a menthol cigarette tucked between her teeth and the other being a strong-willed woman who has an eyebrow sharp enough to cut you in ribbons. Both of them are not afraid to let out scathing remarks when it came to talking about personal matters. I even became subject to their little disciplinary sessions. But nevertheless, they are some of the nicest people I know. And I think that’s a bit of an understatement.


Wednesday, October 8, 2014

What Good Shall I Do This Day?

It’s the 1970s. A 30-something man makes his way across the Golden Gate Bridge. He’s passed by pedestrians and cyclists, and steps around tourists taking pictures of Alcatraz, Angel Island, and the channel of water below that runs between San Francisco Bay and the Pacific Ocean. He gazes up at the reddish-orange towers soaring above, and then climbs over the bridge’s four-foot safety railing. He steps out onto a 32-inch wide beam known as “the chord,” pauses, takes one last long look out at the bay, and then jumps. His body plummets 220 feet and violently hits the water at 75 mph. The impact breaks his ribs, snaps his vertebrae, and pulverizes his internal organs and brain. The Coast Guard soon arrives to recover his limp, lifeless body.
When the medical examiner later located and searched the jumper’s sparse apartment, he found a note the man had written and left on his bureau. It read:
“I’m going to walk to the bridge. If one person smiles at me on the way, I will not jump.”
Original post from The Art of Manliness

Thursday, October 2, 2014

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

"Women do things differently. They move beautifully and gracefully. It's as if their charm flows through the objects they lay their hands on. I just love it."

Wednesday, September 24, 2014

Big night, every night

"Ser, ni-request ka nito. Type ka raw!"

Tinapik ng manager ang balikat ko matapos ibulong sakin yung mga linyang yun. Halos di na nga bulong kasi napakaingay sa loob. Halos di ko rin marinig ang kaluluwa ko. Tumango na lang ako at nag thumbs up sa manager.

"Hi, I'm Maxx."

"Hi, Maxx. Ako si ---."

Petite na babae si Maxx. Layered ang mahabang buhok nya. Itim ang kulay sa pagkakaalala ko. Hindi ko rin gaanong makita dahil malabo na ang mata ko at hindi bababa sa tatlong kulay ang nagsasabay na nagsasayawan sa loob. May strobe light pa nga e.

Maganda rin si Maxx. Halatang bata pa sya. Around 19-22. Pwede rin namang mali ang hula ko at mas matanda sya sakin. Maganda ang hubog ng katawan nya. Mukhang nakakakain naman sya nang tatlong beses sa isang araw.

Nag-alok ng handshake si Maxx. Kinuha ko naman bilang pabigay galang. Hindi nya binitawan ang kamay ko. Firm naman ang handshake nya, halatang madalas nyang ginagawa.

"Bakit Maxx ang pangalan mo? Curious kasi ako. Di ba panlalake yun?"

Hawak nya pa rin ang kamay ko.

Nakakabingi pa rin ang ingay sa loob. Lugi ako at medyo bingi ako.

"Ah. Maxx. Candy kasi ang dati kong pangalan dito. Pinalitan lang ng Maxx."

Unti-unting humina ang hawak nya sa kamay ko.

Maxx - Candy. Aaaaa. Maxx na kendi. Okay. Witty.

"Aaaaaaaaaah. Okay. Ayos a."

Medyo paos na ko ng parteng yun. Mag uumaga na.

"Hindi ba masakit yung ginagawa mo?"

"Yung alin?"

"Sa ano. Dun. Sa split."

"Ha? Split?"

"Doon sa pagsplit mo nang patalikod?"

Nag-demo ako gamit ang daliri ko para makita nya kung sakaling di nya ko marinig.

"Ah. Hindi no. Ba't naman ako masasaktan dun?"

"Wala lang. Mukhang masakit e!"

Parang wala lang sa kanya yung pagsplit. Medyo nakasimangot pa nga nung tinanong ko kasi parang ang weird ng unang tanong ko sa kanya.

"Hindi. Hindi masakit. Kung masakit yun edi sana di ko ginawa."

"Ah okay. Basta bukhang masakit. Kung ako siguro yun wasak na p----- ko."

Di sya sumagot. Maingay pa rin sa loob. Nagbuhos ako ng beer at nagsindi ng isa pang yosi. Mag-uumaga na talaga.

Thursday, September 18, 2014


Just last night, I caught myself saying "A lot can really happen in a year." This entry will be a summary of the things that I've learned in the past year. I'll try to keep it short in pursuit of brevity (my college professors and instructors always challenged us to write concise pieces. I hope I can do them justice.)

1. Never underestimate the ability of people close to you betray you.

This one sits on top of the mountain. Maybe I'm just spiteful but maybe I am not. There are just things that happen and then there are those things that are purposely done. The past year kept driving that nail down my head.

2. Overthinking gets you nowhere.

Too much time thinking will probably leave you way behind. Don't lag. Sometimes, thinking things through is not the best thing to do especially if it's decision time. Pull the trigger or don't.

3. Trust is earned. Don't hand them to people for free.

This is true even for those people who are closest to you. You just never know what will happen. Everything these days should be earned.

4. Everyone can be replaced.

Sure, when people die, they die. Nothing you can do about that. But for those people that can leave you with a snap of a finger, don't even come running after them. If it took them that quick to desert you then they're not worth your time, effort, adoration and love. Flick 'em away as you would a used cigarette butt.

5. Invest in yourself.

Read. Run. Lift. Learn. Go out. Mingle. Everything you do on your free time should add to who you are. Lazing around on weekends is a pleasurable thing but do you really want that to be the highlight of your week? Experience and skill are not heavy. Bring them everywhere you go. The pursuit of happiness never ends.

6. Treat your work as your hobby and pursue greater passions.

Do what you love. Love what you do. For most people, this isn't true. Treat your day job as your hobby and your greatest passion your job. You work to have nicer things in life, to experience everything to the fullest. Too much of one thing can be bad, too.

7. Take everything with a grain of salt.

Someone offended you? Don't lash out with fists flying and maybe a knife drawn. Stay cool and collected. Remember, who gets angry first loses. Maybe they do have a point, reassess. Being a real alpha means having the calm of a sailor thrown into a raging sea but needs to get home safely to his family. Let out your storm when need be. Stay out of fights. If it's not worth it, turn around and walk away. Nothing's wrong with that.

8. Everything worth doing is worth overdoing.

Excel in everything that you do. If you're going to try then do it all the way. Half-assing things are for dilettantes. Capitalize on strengths and work on your weaknesses. When all else fails and the shit has hit the fan, things can only look up after that.

9. Don't ever forget the important things.

Remind yourself everyday why you're still here. Who's got your back? Stay your course. Family is the reason why you're here and it's probably the reason why you'll never want to stop going further.

10. Out of luck, out of strength, out of options but never out of the fight.

Don't ever stop. Keep hitting until your arms give out. Keep kicking until you're out of the water. You can rest when you're dead.

What a fucking ride. Soldier on.

Thursday, September 11, 2014

"Breaking up doesn't always come after fights. Those are theatrical endings that are usually followed by 'baby, i love you so much. i'm sorry.' Most of the time, they come in little breaks in our lives like forgetting to call and never finding time to tell stories how your day was or sending a simple text message that says 'hi, what are you up to?' It's even in the time that you're together but one (or God forbid, both) of you are all smiling while texting away. It's even in the silence over a cup of coffee since you have nothing to say, not even a fun story that both of you can relate to. Or maybe the fact that you don't find it in you anymore to look for her smile or to be the cause of it. It goes both ways. The little things pile up until they snowball on their way down. Next thing you know, you don't even feel what it's like to be together anymore. You're just familiar strangers." 


Thursday, September 4, 2014

Outside in

So last night was another eye opener. A good friend hit me up for a couple of drinks. As always, I couldn't make it in time due to the different work hours at our office jobs. He just flew in from work, all the way from Mindanao. He's a social worker, you see. He's one of those few figures in my life that I look up to.

Anyway, he got back and said he had something from my mother whom he had met numerous times. My mother always tells me how she finds him interesting and how light hearted he is. I get it, he really is like that. My mother also adds that she feels like he's my brother. I also get that, he is like my brother, maybe even more. He said he just bought two authentic handwoven wraparound cloths used by Muslim women. It was a beautiful handwoven piece. I joked about how I wouldn't give it to my mom and just keep it for myself. He let out a snicker and a laugh and mentioned that he also bought one for his mother. I was thankful, I appreciate that kind of a gesture.

As we ordered beer, we got to our usual exchange of "Hey, what's up? How are you holding up? What's new? Really? Wow. Has it been that long?" questions. It was a routine but a heartfelt one. I kind of had the feeling that he was deeply concerned about something. I let some time pass before really digging into what's eating at him. A bottle of Pale Pilsen sounds about just right.

He was concerned that he was having a "midlife crisis" even at a young age. We are around 24-25 years of age during the time of this publication. I told him maybe he was just burnt out at work and that he reserves most of his time for work and not really leaves much for himself. He replied "Yeah, maybe. But I don't really know.. it just feels wrong. I feel like I haven't done enough in my life and work."

He said that he was concerned about where his career is headed and that what good does it do. He also added that he wished he had a craft. Said that he wished he had something like a hobby to keep him busy and entertained the way I shoot with film and write about stuff and so on. I was surprised. You see, I always looked at him as someone who knew what he was doing, what he wanted and what he plans to do. He is that kind of person who is passionate about his work and has a clear cut path in his mind.

I can see that he was lost and struggling with words to describe what he was feeling. He had always been like that. Guarded and refined, I always thought it was an admirable thing about him. It was one of the few things that make him who he is. It's a brand.

I just said that maybe all he needed was time to see himself in the eyes of other people. It's just that sometimes, we get too busy dealing with life and forget to see how much of what we do really mean to other people. It's not being vain, it's just reassessing your progress, your work, your passions and reservations. You can't quantify what you do just by looking at other people's work (he taught me that, he fervently believes in it) and at the same time, you can't really assess how important your efforts are until you've seen them from the perspective of a person who has benefited from it.

Believe me, he is a social worker out to do good. Maybe he just doesn't see it that way. I can't really compress everything I've learned about life in last night's booze session. Maybe it's not yet time to fully make sense about everything. I think I need another bottle of beer.

Monday, August 18, 2014

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Blowin' In The Wind

How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
How many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Yes, how many times must the cannon balls fly
Before they're forever banned?
The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind.

Yes, how many years can a mountain exist
Before it's washed to the sea?
Yes, how many years can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?
Yes, how many times can a man turn his head
Pretending he just doesn't see?
The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind.

Yes, how many times must a man look up
Before he can really see the sky?
Yes, how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
Yes, how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer my friend is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind.

Tuesday, June 24, 2014

Here's a toast for you.

The people in my life are all so kind and I hold them dearly for that. Sometimes, they would blurt out that a relationship has many phases, this being just a part of what "we have." I get that they mean well but I can't help be scathed with that type of forced kindness.

I always tell them to stop since their effort of well-wishing is futile. You can't pick up a million pieces of broken glass in hopes to stick them all together to return a figurine to its original form. You will just get wounded in trying. It is a regal attempt to salvage what is left but just stop. 

You can't expect me to dive another thousand meters when I've already drowned for ten scores of that depth. And honestly, I don't want her back. Not that way. She is gone. She lives but she is gone. There is no good in mourning the dead. You don't mourn their loss, you celebrate their life. And as for us, we died a long time ago.

Thursday, May 29, 2014

LomoLit: Cleaning up

“You owe me, buddy.” Jay told Amer as he wrapped a frosted glass ashtray in bubble wrap. “You owe me big time.”

“Owe you? For what?”
Photo by lighttomysoul
“For helping you pack all of this stuff without a moment’s notice. You should really work on your planning, dude.”
“Yeah, yeah. But I knew I could count on you, bud. Your beer is on me after we finish this.”
“You know I don’t drink.” Jay kept on wrapping other fragile items like trophies and frames in bubble wrap. He was getting good at it, he thought.
“Well, look here. Isn’t this the shirt we got from that party we went to during our first year at work? It still has holes from the time you got so sauced. I had to pull you up by the collar and the shirt ripped open!” Jay was still ecstatic.
Photo by cryboy
“O god, yes. That night was just… I don’t even have the words to describe it. It was a blackout,” Quipped Amer.
“And this! This thing!” Jay struggled with the words but couldn’t quite find it.
“Ah! That thingamajig we looted from that art opening! I swore we could have spent the night in jail for that stint!”
Photo by clownshoes
“Yes! Yes! Why on earth did we do that for again?”
“I can’t remember exactly. It had something to do with a bet…”
“Wait, I remember. The first one to take a thing out of that boring art event would get to pick the attire of the other for his wedding!”
Photo by neanderthalis
“Which one of us won that bet again?”
“You know who it is. That’s why you’re wearing a tux instead of a beach-wedding inspired suit to your wedding.”
“I still haven’t agreed to that, man.”
“A deal’s a deal.” Said Jay quietly.
And a deal was indeed a deal. Jay was holding onto a clear plastic bag containing a wallet, a ring, a broken watch and a small notebook and he let out an empty sigh.
“A deal’s a deal, man. But this wasn’t part of it. You said I was gonna be the best man at your wedding.”
Jay kept on packing the things inside a box neatly as Amer would. A cracked helmet was put on top of the box like a crown.

Wednesday, May 28, 2014


Let me tell you a story, and like many other stories, this has a boy, who is a lot like other boys but a lot different too. And it also has a girl who is a lot like other girls but a lot different too.

There were no sparks when they met. Just “Oh there he is” and “Oh here’s another girl.”
But strangely enough, the way strange [things] happen when a child tastes ice cream for the first time, they found their way home together.

And somewhere inside [between] the stone’s throw between their houses, something started. Like a bud blossoming, opening its petals to meet the wind.
And in each day after that [the] first day with no sparks, they had more firsts and seconds and thirds and a lot more.

They had their share of seasons, too. With the coolness of spring giving way to the warmth of summer, and autumn’s leaves falling onto the sheen of winter’s cold earth but at the end of each sunset, they’d be where they began – which is spring.

And now, after living near and living far, the ties that bind them have bloomed, and strangeness has became magic; the kind that grips you at the whiff of sautéed garlic, the kind that signals the start of something good.


In one summer time, they didn’t know what was happening. There was no assurance and no hint. Maybe, there was but neither of them nurtured the seed.

In another summer time they were face to face, laughing, smiling but still no water to shower the deeply stuck flower in hiding. They drank, they smoked, they became the young adults they were eager to become. Well, one became that. The other was not ready.

In a different version of summer, rains frequented. They rarely saw each other. They talked less, too. They grew farther than what they were used to. One cared, the other not minded, killing the feeling before any started to happen. They just did not know what was waiting for under the earth.

Summer is the orange ray that watched that flower bloom. From a stray droplet to the shooting stems and leaves, to the dew that collected from early morning mist. It was far too sweet when it all began. Though they just don’t fully know where it will land. Will the wind carry their petals off to other earth, will they wither to the back to the ground that hid them from light, rain and sky?

They just don’t know. Who will? Who does? Will their petals reach the fettered kite the lion saw from a distance?

They know what they want, though they want what they do not know. Maybe, the cards will be greater than it seems now. All that’s certain is that there is that fighting chance.

Let’s not waste the past summers and the coming seasons. Let us not forget that one summer. 

Friday, May 16, 2014

Godspeed, Juanderkid.

"Let us go over to the other side. I think Juanderkid will be back very soon. Journey with me, will you?"

Goodnight, travel well Juanderkid. You are missed. Weave a story for us on the other side, will you?

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

LomoLit: Just a date

Ray cradled the bouquet of flowers in his left arm, he just got it from his local florist. Its delicate wrapping rustled in between strides as he made his way to their favorite deli.

“You there?” read his text to Pearl.
“Yup, just got here” buzzed Pearl back.
He was whistling and snapping his fingers on his free right hand. It was a nice day, not too sunny but not too wet. The usually scorching afternoon is giving way to the playful gusts of the looming evening. It’s starting to get dark but the rains look like they are far from carpeting the streets of his hometown.
Ray spotted his reflection on one of the windows of a cafe he just passed by. He admired the middle-aged man as if he had just seen an old friend who’s now getting the reins back from life.
He fished for his phone from his right pocket and slowly typed a message for Pearl. He was still walking. The deli was not too far away, now.
Pearl was sitting near the window of the deli. The light cream mantle of the table matched the yellow glow from the lights. The deli was not always her favorite spot in town but she learned to love it because of the great food. And of course, that’s where she had met him.
Photo by inthesky
He tapped on the glass window and gave her a big smile, almost a grin. Pearl waved him in and the bell chimed with her as he entered the dainty place.
He hid the flowers behind his back and playfully waved it in front of Pearl. The wrapping rustled in a lively tune. Pearl’s face lit up.
“Thanks, Ray. They’re so pretty.”
Photo by arifrodriguez
The red roses were still moist and supple. Ray had the bouquet carefully picked by the florist and he tipped the man who had been preparing his flowers for almost five years. He was delighted with the finished bundle. He was sure that Pearl would love it, after all, it is her favorite flower and color.
The two had drinks. Ray had spaghetti with the meatballs placed in a separate platter. Pearl had a salad then wine after. The two laughed and talked, both had a good time – a great time perhaps. Pearl kissed Ray on the cheek before they went their separate ways. She lived in a different part of town.
Photo by why-yu
Ray traced the figure of his jeans and found his phone. He dialed a number and waited for a few rings before someone picked up.
“Hi, good evening. I was the guy who came by earlier. Yes. Just a quick question… I just wanted to ask about your return policy on rings. Thanks.”
A drop fell on his beat up wingtips. It wasn’t raining.

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

"You freeze and I burn. As I am engulfed, smoke becomes my companion. My whole being seethes with a burning for you and yet you freeze. All I can think about is the biting coldness of your fingertips, the frost in your eyelashes, and the cool mist coming from your breath. Let us collide in a tempest that can make even the most sea-worthy of ships sink. May our kisses make us deaf with only the familiar sounds of our own heartbeats audible only to us. Douse my flames. I’ll thaw your longings. And by the time we’re over, all we’ll have left are our flame-wicked clothes and a rather cool steam from our collision."

Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Monday, May 5, 2014

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

10 word story #6

Everything we did will make for a great novel, someday.

350 and a box of macadamia nut chocolates

"I can still see vaguely the scrunching of the sheets we covered ourselves with. I remember the drip, the smoothness of your legs when it came across mine, even the smell of your hands on that fateful day. Who knew it was the last time I was ever going to hold you? I guess you did know. It was a farewell present. It was a send off masquerade. It was a personal tirade of my unconscious wrongdoings.

Now, I realize that the single greatest mistake that I have to live with for the rest of my life is that I could never stop caring about you nor think of you for that matter. I still see you when I close my eyes - the baby hair on your forehead and its semi-swirl of innocent follicles. But I'll try to neatly fold those memories, straighten out the scrunches of the sheets of fragmented moments and keep them away in a cabinet somewhere in the gaping hole that is my chest. I wish I could really say goodbye, although I doubt that you would even wave at me from a distance.

Say something. Anything. I will have it tattooed across my chest as a reminder. Or maybe have them inked on my wrists so I can still feel that I'm still wearing the watch you gave me. It ran out of batteries. I hope I could just replace my memories of you with a fresh pack of someone else's. But that would make me more like you. I hate it and love it at the same time."

Tuesday, April 29, 2014

LomoLit: Flutter (Part 4)

Losing someone is not always through break ups, over a fight, or text messages. Sometimes, it’s the fleeting moments of indifference that can make a then close proximity into a gaping divide that just ends it all for a relationship.

Photo by clownshoes
Dean seemed to drift away more from Mika and vice versa. Gone were the days when they couldn’t peel themselves away from each other. He no longer tucked her unkempt hair into the back of her ears. She was fine with him being away for weeks at end. They both stopped trying even if it was a simple thing like dialing the phone.The distance between them became normal and evident in their relationship.


By: kellymaneja

10 word story #5

Now that you have the freedom you wanted, what's next?

LomoLit: Trinket

“I’d like to have a star of my own.” Said the little girl as she gazed at the dark sky one summer. “Why?” asked the boy lying beside her, his brown hair laid comfortably on the soft carpet of grass.

Photo by sixsixty
The two were star gazing. The sky was littered with the shiny trinkets from far away.
“Stars are pretty. I want to have something pretty I can call my own.”
“But you can’t have a star. Look how far it is from where are now.”
“I know. But mom said a girl can dream.”
More summers passed and they grew up. They lay on the grass of the very same hill for many years. They grew in mind and body but the dreams remained young and vivid.
One night, as they both laid in the same spot where they had laid many years ago, the young man blurted: “Would you still like that star?”
“Star? What star?” asked the puzzled young lady.
“The star you always wanted to have.”
“Oh, that. You remembered?”
“Of course, how could I forget? We were lying on the same bed of grass, staring at the same sky and breathing the same air. I wouldn’t forget that for the world.”
Photo by vtayeh
Both were still staring at the night sky. Indeed, nothing has changed; it ws still the same blue tapestry laden with tiny diamonds.
“I still would like a star of my own. But I know that won’t happen.”
“Why?” asked the young man.
“You can’t own a star, silly.”
“Really? Wait here.”
“Where are you going?”
The young man stood up and brushed the dirt off his head.
“Stay right where you are.”
After a while, the young man returned with rope. He had tied the end like a lasso.
“What are you going to do with that rope?”
“Just wait. You’ll see soon enough.”
Photo by hodachrome
The young man anchored himself atop the hill’s highest point. He gave a grunt and threw the lasso into the air. It caught nothing at first but he came at it again. His second throw caught a tiny trinket from the sky. He slowly pulled on the rope and reeled in the little star. The hill became a beacon of light.
“Here you go, your own star.” Said the young man as he handed the star to her.
“How?” the young lady was dumbfounded.
“You said long ago that ‘a girl can dream.’ And here it is.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“I believe in dreams. You should, too. It doesn’t mean that we can stop believing just because we’ve added years to our lives. I think it’s all the more reason to keep dreaming. And besides, I didn’t have to reel in that star for you.”
“Why not?”
The young man just smiled and laid down. He closed his eyes and breathed in.
“Keep that star.”
“I want to share it with you.”
“You already did. Many summers ago.”

Monday, April 28, 2014

LomoLit: A Drop

You write your desire on the palm of my hand I clench my fist, afraid to let it go

Drop me a line I will not forget
Your diamond eyes are as pale as the fading sky
Once they were dark, brooding but true
This fetter we have is a fantasy
Photo by ug_a
Every tear glistens in its beauty
I am your pillar, you are my strength
But you don’t want to see
We are swept down the river
Photo by yeahyeahyeahh
You hold on to a thistle
I let out my hand to reach for yours
You kept your wounded hand
The river led to some place I never imagined
Photo by ohpleasedontgo
Ice has melted and gave way to lush greens
Leaves are supple with every kiss of dew
The river grew wide with the coming of spring
I try to remember how every note you’d sing
Photo by kleeblatt
Would carry me into a dream
Or even better, a reality
I am an illusion as you are
We are lodged in a crevice of life
Photo by hodachrome
You crush petals just to smell them
I remember not a single drop of oil
Do you know the way back?
All I know is that I don’t
Photo by myloveletter
You kept your hand to you, reached out not for me
All I know is that I’ll be a poet for you
Kiss me
Use your tongue as a pen
Photo by hervinsyah
Write me a poem
Use my mouth as a paper
Make me believe as I always have
Spring has made it a little clearer
The river grew wider.

10 word story #4

She reached out only when the panicked hands stopped flailing.

10 word story #3

In the end, everything's been done too little, too late.

Friday, April 25, 2014

Thursday, April 24, 2014

Wednesday, April 23, 2014


"When I look at your face, I don't even feel mad about what happened. Or his face for that matter. I would still be angry had I cared. I have some bad things running in my head on how to make things right and fair but they would not be... quite legal. Had I still cared  for you, I'd be wallowing in self-pity but the thing of the matter is... I don't. Not anymore. Maybe that's just the way things are. You feel something immensely disturbing one day and wake up the next morning and go about your life as if nothing happened.

If I had cut you off in my life, in my thoughts, and my heart, maybe you had given me the scissors in the first place. I am no longer bound by your fetters and so are you. You are now free to fly. I just hope that one day, when you come flying back home to your nest, you'll find it and know that it is truly home. Because sometimes, the feeling of being free is so appealing to us that we forget that we have always been free. We just pretend to be in some sort of prison just to rationalize."

"Hell is loving you in my sleep and waking up alone."



Wednesday, April 16, 2014


"Da, why didn't things work out for you and Mum?"

"Well, son. Your mother is the most wonderful person in the world."

"That's not a bad thing, is it?"

"No, not at all. That made me love her even more. What we had was splendid."

"Then why didn't it work out?"

"I just couldn't make her feel that she was the stardust of my universe. And, I guess, we just have to accept that we have to walk in the dark when the light finally goes out."