Riverine

Walk I did a few weeks ago. Before the super storm made landfall in the Visayas, and my feet were still eager to see sights that evade me. From the walled enclave of Intramuros to the choke full of trailers below the Del Pan bridge, all I did was walk; walk towards the mouth of the river that flows not far from home.  

You may consider me a riverine. A kid raised next to the river. My earliest memories of my dad include crossing the Nagtahan bridge on foot with him. I still recall that sense of wonder, as huge barges pass beneath the bridge; creating ripples that slosh along the banks, parting water lilies in their procession towards the sea. I remember holding my dad's hand, as tugboats pull the behemoths toward their destination. I would get drowned in my imagination, as I see myself boarding the same boats as we chug our way towards parts unknown.  

When I turned older, I would sit on a floating terminal while the Metro Ferry boat unloads passengers heading to PUP. The swirl in my head, as waves stir the pontoon used to force me to flee to the banks. Soon, I would look forward to these fluxes as they have become a well-spring of excitement. In moments of stillness, I would spot bubbles on the water's surface. Little movements that lead to solid evidence of life. It seems, and I was told, by the birds circling above my head that the river is still alive. Dying, yet giving life to creatures hardened by the ebbs and tides. 

There is no denial that the river is stinky. Sometimes, dead animals float along the water's edge. Its surroundings have turned lifeless, its waters a vial of death. But the river remains a romantic retreat. In high school and college, part of my urban stroll is to ride the ferry going upstream, where city lights and skyscrapers change the backdrop of my beloved metropolis. And there are days still, when I cross the historic bridges or sit in crumbling walls of the Santiago fort, I would imagine a time when people used to wine and dine near the river's edge; when children take a dip in its sparkling waters, or when the superstitious still warn of mermaids dwelling at the belly of the watercourse.

How lovely it is to live in such time.

In all the years I have stood next to the river and daydreamed of times when it used to be teeming with life, the very place where it drains has been a mystery. Part of the elusiveness is the inaccessibility, of the perils and dangers found where the Pasig meets the bay. And one day, while remembering the guy who once told me his dream of setting foot at the confluence, I thought of embarking a solitary trip in honor of his memory. 

So walk I did, pass the trucks waiting their turn to enter the port terminal, pass the gates where container vans are stacked, and pass the homes and hovels that make up the bustling urban landscape at the rim of a reclaimed land. There, I found what I've been searching; a longing my eyes delight in indulging; the river's edge, a few steps away from the sea:  

Baseco Compound, Tondo

"Nakarating ka ng Baseco ng hindi mo alam?" A store vendor at a sari-sari store told me with incredulity. I didn't answer her question.

"Okay lang po ba mag-ikot ikot?" 

"Okay lang naman, basta huwag ka pupunta dun sa may dulo. Magulo dun." She warned.

A sea of trash it may be. But the river mouth remains a poignant discovery to me. 

Insomnia Poem XII

12:30 AM

Because sometimes, we let passion takes us. And the risk, the cost, and the energy we give away don't matter. We do it for reasons, that need no words.

Special

I had already told him I was about to sleep this evening. That was before midnight, less than an hour after I got home. At work, I was already feeling under the weather. My skin is feverish, and my body at some point was on the verge of collapse. 

Nap, I was able to do. But my mind tells something isn't feeling right. Instinct doesn't want me to sleep, so I was stirred an hour after midnight. Maybe because he was out there - somewhere. We might not be a couple. The odds are stacked against me. But there is no denial, my thoughts are with him in ways the heart speaks only in hushed tones.

And then I remember: from the first time I had a partner, to the last one around a year ago. Never would I go to sleep until the Other tells he is home. The habit I must have picked from the first one: Just to assure him that I was home, I would use the land line to drop call his phone at night. Then I would send him a text greeting before sunrise - to assure him I didn't sneak out. Talk about a paranoid boyfriend. The routine remained unbroken (even when a petty fight drove me to cheat) until we split up three months after meeting him in Malate. 

The next one came and I was the one paranoid. One mistake of not telling me his whereabouts and off I did the unthinkable. Just to shake the feeling of restlessness, of that head-splitting worry and betrayal, I left the house at 4 in the morning. Sleepless and with work just hours away, I went to a massage parlor to vent off the seething anger. The second and I were able to patch things a few days later. 

He didn't find out whatever happened to me that morning.

The third was different. He was considerate enough to tell me exactly where he is. Even when he went out with straight friends, he would call at daybreak - or send a text message that he is safely tucked in bed. He knew I was waiting. That I wouldn't sleep until he does. To show my gratitude, I hardly went out at night. Even when he was abroad. For I knew he would wait and I didn't want him to lose sleep just because of me.

These recollections are needed to understand once more the reason my eyes stay wide open, until the special someone is in a safe place. For I was apologizing to Buchok two nights ago when I insisted to wait until he gets home from a drinking binge. Let it be clear that I didn't ask him to leave his friends, or tell him that it's getting late. Part of the vigil is patience, and in all the times I waited for another, never did I ask when they will go home. 

One day, this blog entry will be read by the fourth, and he too (if he hasn't get my explanation yet) will wonder why I refuse the call of sleep when he is still on the road going to his destination. For all the mouthful and tasteful reasons for such gesture, and how the pattern of wakefulness evolved from one boyfriend to another, I can only think of one to encapsulate my thoughts:   

0:02: Ingat ka pag uwi ha. Please tell me if you're home. 

0:02: Tulog na ako.

0:03: Opo

0:05: Nanayt

0:07: Sleepwell =)

1:30: Home and about to sleep

Primavera

Because it feels like I have known you for a long, long time.

Death By Tablea

"I'd like to ask you a question," I raised, as we approached Katipunan. "And I hope I can have an honest answer."  

It was past 8 in the evening and our conversation at Chocolat Bake Shop had reached its peak. The mood was set for an open-heart, make or break revelation when the store attendant told us they were about to close.

"Sige, pero bago muna yan toilet ako sa McDonalds." 

He laid down the herbs we brought at the Seedling Bank on the table. I was left there watching our belongings as I thought of my decision:

Is it the right time?

It's been a month since we first met. Buchok and I. The details, I would leave for a future blog entry. But the meet up was almost serendipitous. He came into my life at a time when changes were taking shape. That I'm no longer bound to the past given that footprints cease making its mark on the present.

From the first time I said hello, I already felt the ties that bind: the chemistry of personalities that makes us a compound: the subterranean attraction I refused to let out for reasons of pride. The discoveries were made possible because of the sunrise-to-sundown talks. For days, I was off the grid - on Twitter. He had my attention and I wished not to be disturbed. And for all the stories we shared, values we embraced, and the joys of indulging our passions, I was drawn to him in ways no one has done before.

One soul was able to break the wall. 

However interesting our beginnings, I was pulled into his sphere just when he was about to begin his restoration. Coming from a difficult break-up less than a year ago, I deeply acknowledge that it wouldn't be easy for him to let go. To start over again. He was me when I was turning down people left and right. 

When I was the "troublesome extraordinaire." 

I heard his narrative, the sad song I've seen others had to face through in their quest for love. He confessed the perils after the crushing fall. The loneliness of disillusionment just when it felt like love could last a lifetime. And just by looking at my own climb out of the ditch, the blow done to me was lighter compared to what he had been through.

It was a deep union severed by a runaway distraction.

Much as I would like to sympathize, recognized attachment spawns implied reciprocation. I was hoping he felt the same way; that we are getting somewhere despite the crawl. I was told to enjoy. Make things easy by letting everything fall into place. But how can I listen when the same sunrise to sundown talk we used to do held me so close, that even my thoughts were aligned to him from the moment I wake up to the very minute I sleep?

And it wasn't getting healthy anymore. A little inconsideration is becoming a cause of friction. The lack of intimacy makes me stand on shaky ground. The penchant for reading subtexts gets me confused; it triggers a wait-and-see attitude that has trickled our daily chatter into one-word replies. 

It hurts.

Deep within I was in for a crushing defeat. I was already giving away my cards only because I knew the likes of him comes only a few times in one's lifetime. The freedom fighters in my head advocate for a full scale retreat. That I can still limp all the way to the exit. There were attempts to disconnect of course - a lot. Even fate was tempting with a number of stranger "invitations" which I strongly declined. And for some strange reasons, at a time when drifting was imminent, he would unconsciously send thoughtful words reminding his presence.

That he is still there.

The cycle went on for a week that it came to a point that I needed friends' intervention. Not to help me secure Buchok's attention. But to put sanity back to my head. "There's a resolution," Panda said, over one of our drinking binges. "Why not ask where you stand instead of second guessing his gestures?"

I was tempted to say: "My ego could not afford it. I used to be the one forcing others to state their intentions."

Pero ganun talaga eh. Especially when you know the sublimity of your selflessness.

Going back to the first night. When I was told by Papa Tagay to entertain their "guest;" when I was perfectly comfortable to nod at him and see him as a straight acquaintance. Who would have thought the "guest" and I would last a month under each other's sun?

So I took a stand and sought his answer.

Drawing a stick of Marlboro Black before saying a word, I took a deep breathe hoping the evening drizzle would grant me comfort. The third hang out and first date is already perfection.

"Would it still be okay for me to expect?"

Buchok smiled wordlessly and said..

Gratitude

Na-confess ko minsan kay Panda na sa dalas kong magsabi sa mga kaibigan na "everything will be alright" sa tuwing may mga pagsubok silang hinaharap, minsan, nangarap rin ako na someone would tell the same words to me, at a time when it mattered the most.

One of my nephews fell off the stairs this evening. Yung bunso sa magkapatid. Dahil mabilis ang mga pangyayari, at hindi kaagad ako naka-recover sa shock, siya ang hiningan ko ng advice kung ano ang gagawin. Bilang nasa medical field na naghahandle ng mga cases ng bata, ang mabilisan niyang tugon ang nagpakalma sa akin.

Bukod sa nagdugong ngipin at dalawang bukol sa ulo, ang kinatatakutang pagsusuka ng dugo ay hindi nangyari. For that, I am deeply grateful. Tomorrow, he will visit the doctor to make sure no bone fractures or internal hemorrhage of the organs happened.

Situation at home is back to normal, with the 2-year old kid who just rolled down the stairs earlier smiling again. The shock is still there, with the screams of my mom and my sister still feeding terror to my ears.

But it will pass. Sana.

In the end, what will nest in the heart are those four words I didn't expect to read when I was on the verge of panic: when irrational decisions will result in a trip to the emergency room only to find that it wasn't necessary. Ang sarap lang basahin at i-internalize. It makes you believe you're not alone, and that somebody's watching your back.

No wonder, I am twice as brave when I am next to him; that guy who keeps telling me that things will be alright. Deep down I feel, not only has he become my strength. Slowly, steadily, he is the reason there's something within that ceases to be broken.

Somehow, there is something to look forward to the days again. 

Heart Door

I tend to speak in tongues or not speak at all. But that night, I can honestly say my words need no translation. 

It was received by someone brave enough to make a hearty reply.

"To answer your question, dumating ka sa crossroad."

"Sa simulang simula."

"Sa point na unexpected pero inaasahan."

"You came in the unexpected time as well. The day I least expected someone to be there."

--

"Wednesday two weeks ago, bumalik ako sa dance floor. This time mag-isa."

"Di ako nagsama ng kaibigan for some reasons. At the back of my head, I felt changes are coming. I may not come back."

"Then Saturday nakilala kita."

"A week before everything started, I said goodbye to him."

"Nakuwento mo nga."

"And I didn't expect to find someone who would make me smile again."

"More than smile, I hope you found someone you can connect with. Someone who understands you the way others couldn't."

"Okay na sa akin yun."

"Dun nagsisimula ang lahat."

--


"Harot rin ako. Pero a lot has changed already."

"Pagod ka na sa digmaan."

"Matagal na akong tapos makidigma. To the point na kaya ko na i-manipulate ang outcome, wala pang harapang nagaganap."

"Pagod na ako matagal na. Sumuko na ako matagal na. Until you came."

"That makes us battle-weary individuals."

Palipad Hangin Sa Hinaharap

I've been alone long enough to know.

Just for a night, I don't want you to feel the same.