Leave the gun. Take the cannoli.
- The Godfather
"Let's go girls. Strap on your stilletos."
Tl, Nins, Chinx, Jill, Kamil. We are assassins extraordinaire and tonight we have a job.
Inside the LV suitcases are guns of all shapes and sizes, grenades, knives, swords, balisongs. All well and good but where are the clothes? Surely our clothes have to be flashier than our weapons. It's in the rules! How ridiculous to make us go to war dressed like civilians.
God save the Queen Kamil.
"My conquistador, always conquering. Where are the clothes? Why are you tying me up my right hand?"
"So you can assemble this (complex weapon) blindfolded AND with just one hand."
"Surely that's not necessary," says Chinx alarmed.
"Paputukin lang naman nya yan ng papuputukin diba? Kailangan ba talaga yan?" says Jill, ever so smoothly.
"Sige na Kamil, makisakay ka na para makaalis na tayo," says TL the practical.
"Kamil, remember to teach me how to tie that knot," says Nins already thinking a naughty sex thought.
Right. So blindfolded and with one hand tied behind me I assemble this weapon that looks -- voila! -- like an honest to goodness gun. Papuputukin ko lang naman ng papuputukin but will this look good on me?
I look in the mirror. It does look good on me. But... perhaps...
He senses my apprehension. My conquistador. Always conquering. Conquering the world in the name of his queen.
"What is it? What's the problem? Oh Kamil, we don't have time. What is it now?"
I study myself in the mirror. I practice assassin posses. "Oh I love it. But the question is... Does this come in pink?"
Monday, February 26, 2007
Sunday, February 25, 2007
No Off Season Picking
Because I am so sleepy I make a wrong turn somewhere and so now we are lost.
On the other hand, it's just Baliwag. How lost can I be? I keep driving. Everyone else in the car is fast asleep.
It's when I turn into private property that I start to get anxious. I mean, I've been going the general direction of the NLEX but now I'm in a place that looks like a monastery. I've never seen so many santol trees in my life. There's a sign that says: NO OFF SEASON PICKING.
Curiouser and curiouser.
Somewhere a gate opens and I drive towards it hoping to get out.
Outside it's not the highway as I expected but a cliff with a view of the ocean. Big, big waves.
We're sooooo lost. I worry about all the people waiting for us to get home.
Every night my dream's the same.
Same old city with a different name.
- Arcade Fire, "Keep the Car Running"
On the other hand, it's just Baliwag. How lost can I be? I keep driving. Everyone else in the car is fast asleep.
It's when I turn into private property that I start to get anxious. I mean, I've been going the general direction of the NLEX but now I'm in a place that looks like a monastery. I've never seen so many santol trees in my life. There's a sign that says: NO OFF SEASON PICKING.
Curiouser and curiouser.
Somewhere a gate opens and I drive towards it hoping to get out.
Outside it's not the highway as I expected but a cliff with a view of the ocean. Big, big waves.
We're sooooo lost. I worry about all the people waiting for us to get home.
Every night my dream's the same.
Same old city with a different name.
- Arcade Fire, "Keep the Car Running"
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Because I Do Miss Him
He's 23 and no longer a baby and but I still think of him as my baby brother even now as I, The Firstborn, seek him out for help, for support, to implore him to not forsake me to the lonely realm of The Only Child to where I once belonged.
My baby brother. My granted wish taken back too quickly. Born four pounds (but now so fat). Shriveled and yellow. Sickly. Sockie. The Favorite Child. The Boy. The Crybaby. I know now you are happy. You have a new family now. You exchanged your Only Sister for a whole collection of Brothers. In your letters you feel self-assured enough to write to me words of wisdom and comfort. Indeed you have become godlike in your silence. In your farawayness and seclusion.
I arrive at his house which smells sharp like freshly-cut wood and is beautiful. While Sockie is being called, someone gives me a tour. My slippered feet hardly make a sound on the polished-to-a-shine wooden floor. The delicious smell of ginger in the air. Outside sounds from near and far enter faintly -- footsteps on cobblestones, skirts rustling, a fishing net flung to the sea, rain.
The library catches my eye and I want to explore it but my tour guide prods me on. I see hallways. Doors. Windows where concentrated light comes in. Staircases that curve and disappear.
At last. Sockie. The moment he sees me he bursts into tears. He bursts into tears! The nerve! My First Born Thinking Cap is slipped on automatically and I think, "For sure I will be blamed for this. I must control this damage." Out of guilt (for his unknown suffering I am sure I did not cause) and martyred discipline (as if Mama was watching) and because I do miss him. I let out a tiny sigh and hug him to comfort him and ask him, "Sockie, what's the problem now?"
My baby brother. My granted wish taken back too quickly. Born four pounds (but now so fat). Shriveled and yellow. Sickly. Sockie. The Favorite Child. The Boy. The Crybaby. I know now you are happy. You have a new family now. You exchanged your Only Sister for a whole collection of Brothers. In your letters you feel self-assured enough to write to me words of wisdom and comfort. Indeed you have become godlike in your silence. In your farawayness and seclusion.
I arrive at his house which smells sharp like freshly-cut wood and is beautiful. While Sockie is being called, someone gives me a tour. My slippered feet hardly make a sound on the polished-to-a-shine wooden floor. The delicious smell of ginger in the air. Outside sounds from near and far enter faintly -- footsteps on cobblestones, skirts rustling, a fishing net flung to the sea, rain.
The library catches my eye and I want to explore it but my tour guide prods me on. I see hallways. Doors. Windows where concentrated light comes in. Staircases that curve and disappear.
At last. Sockie. The moment he sees me he bursts into tears. He bursts into tears! The nerve! My First Born Thinking Cap is slipped on automatically and I think, "For sure I will be blamed for this. I must control this damage." Out of guilt (for his unknown suffering I am sure I did not cause) and martyred discipline (as if Mama was watching) and because I do miss him. I let out a tiny sigh and hug him to comfort him and ask him, "Sockie, what's the problem now?"
Friday, February 23, 2007
Another Glass
Just 'cause you feel it doesn't mean it's there.
- Radiohead, "There There"
Finally a drink of water. But what's wrong with this water? It doesn't seem to quench thirst. So I down another glass, another glass, another glass. Nothing. Still thirsty as ever. Weird!
- Radiohead, "There There"
Finally a drink of water. But what's wrong with this water? It doesn't seem to quench thirst. So I down another glass, another glass, another glass. Nothing. Still thirsty as ever. Weird!
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Swing
There are more guides than there are of us regular people. At the top of the steep climb is a white house. Old but clean. Falling apart in some places but still pretty. At the backyard is a swing. I look at one of the guides and he understands what I want. He gestures, "Go ahead." So I do. I go ahead but before I can sit myself down properly he gives me a push, "Wait, wait, wait," I scream, "I'm not ready yet!" Too late. I hang on to the chain as I swing high up and around. I see that the mountain we're on is higher than I thought. I see that the ravine plunges down to scary depths. Everywhere below is green. It's so beautiful -- so many kinds of green. The blue sky comes closer to me and I let go of the swing to join it.
Monday, February 19, 2007
New Snow
It's so cozy, this room. The lampshades give off a warm yellow light. The sheets are crisp and smell like soap. I'm getting things in order because Cheng is back and she'll need her old room back.
It's funny, but I seem to remember having moved out of this house. Cheng, Me, everyone else. But here I am again and Cheng is coming back. So, that moving out -- was I dreaming?
Outside it's snowing. Everything is white with new snow.
I put my hand out the window to see how cold it is. Maybe Cheng will need more blankets. But it isn't cold at all.
I smile contentedly.
It's funny, but I seem to remember having moved out of this house. Cheng, Me, everyone else. But here I am again and Cheng is coming back. So, that moving out -- was I dreaming?
Outside it's snowing. Everything is white with new snow.
I put my hand out the window to see how cold it is. Maybe Cheng will need more blankets. But it isn't cold at all.
I smile contentedly.
Friday, February 16, 2007
Sturm and Drang
Under rapid fire.
Neil is asking me question after question. It's been so long since I last sat in one of his classes and I've completely forgotten how much pleasure and pressure one can feel to have him as a teacher.
What movement were the Neo-Classicists reacting against? Romanticism.
Goethe's work The Sorrows of Young Werther is associated with what movement? (Shit.) Sturm and Drang.
Which means? (SHIT.) Storm and... Storm and.. Storm and (jesusfuckingchrist) STRESS.
I look at Kath and she starts to laugh. Stress indeed. My hair has stuck to my forehead. So much nervous perspiration. But Kath is laughing. So that means I'm okay. Kit is in the corner playing the guitar, oblivious to everyone. Abi has wrapped herself in a cocoon of silence (as usual) and is not paying us any attention. I turn to Neil, wondering if he minds his students not paying him any attention but... he's GONE.
The vulnerability of power is that it wishes to be acknowledged.
- J.Neil Garcia
Class, 25 April 2004
Neil is asking me question after question. It's been so long since I last sat in one of his classes and I've completely forgotten how much pleasure and pressure one can feel to have him as a teacher.
What movement were the Neo-Classicists reacting against? Romanticism.
Goethe's work The Sorrows of Young Werther is associated with what movement? (Shit.) Sturm and Drang.
Which means? (SHIT.) Storm and... Storm and.. Storm and (jesusfuckingchrist) STRESS.
I look at Kath and she starts to laugh. Stress indeed. My hair has stuck to my forehead. So much nervous perspiration. But Kath is laughing. So that means I'm okay. Kit is in the corner playing the guitar, oblivious to everyone. Abi has wrapped herself in a cocoon of silence (as usual) and is not paying us any attention. I turn to Neil, wondering if he minds his students not paying him any attention but... he's GONE.
The vulnerability of power is that it wishes to be acknowledged.
- J.Neil Garcia
Class, 25 April 2004
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Teaching Her the Mundane
You put your arn around her, careful that she doesn't break anything. But tonight it seems she's left her klutz behind. She asks you about everything in the room. Everything is so mysterious to her. Nothing seems normal. "What's this?" she asks and it's only a printer and you laugh and can't say and this hurts her, slightly.
So you sit her on your lap and one by one point out things in the room and their names. She tries to distract you by kissing you and while you kiss her you still carry on the business of teaching her the mundane and when you're done you steer her out of the room, with your arm around her, careful that she doesn't break anything.
Once outside she looks around her and gasps.
"Where are we?" she asks you.
"Makati" you say.
"Impossible. It can't be. It just can't be," she says staring at the vast jungle stretching out ahead of them. Fog circles the treetops. And from far away she can hear a waterfall.
"Stay close to me," you say already steps ahead. She's still standing there with her mouth open.
She comes to you, holds your hand tightly, disbelief still in her face.
So you sit her on your lap and one by one point out things in the room and their names. She tries to distract you by kissing you and while you kiss her you still carry on the business of teaching her the mundane and when you're done you steer her out of the room, with your arm around her, careful that she doesn't break anything.
Once outside she looks around her and gasps.
"Where are we?" she asks you.
"Makati" you say.
"Impossible. It can't be. It just can't be," she says staring at the vast jungle stretching out ahead of them. Fog circles the treetops. And from far away she can hear a waterfall.
"Stay close to me," you say already steps ahead. She's still standing there with her mouth open.
She comes to you, holds your hand tightly, disbelief still in her face.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Starts Revving
Jesus don't want me for a sunbeam.
- The Vaselines
Something is wrong. I drag my suitcase with wheels behind me. The voice on the speaker calls my flight number and I check my boarding pass to make sure everything is in order. But something is wrong, I feel it.
I check to see if I've forgotten something. Wallet, check. Cell phone, check. Underwear, check. What is it then?
The flight attendants look at me funny when I get to the plane. I look around but can't find a seat. How can that be? There's supposed to be a seat assigned to me, right? The engine starts revving and I realize that I don't belong here in this flight.
I make my way back, dragging my suitcase with wheels behind me. I choke back my tears. I thought I could really leave this time. As soon as I am off the plane it takes off leaving me like an unwanted child.
- The Vaselines
Something is wrong. I drag my suitcase with wheels behind me. The voice on the speaker calls my flight number and I check my boarding pass to make sure everything is in order. But something is wrong, I feel it.
I check to see if I've forgotten something. Wallet, check. Cell phone, check. Underwear, check. What is it then?
The flight attendants look at me funny when I get to the plane. I look around but can't find a seat. How can that be? There's supposed to be a seat assigned to me, right? The engine starts revving and I realize that I don't belong here in this flight.
I make my way back, dragging my suitcase with wheels behind me. I choke back my tears. I thought I could really leave this time. As soon as I am off the plane it takes off leaving me like an unwanted child.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Right Foot, Left Foot
You walked into the party
Like you were walking into a yatch.
- Carly Simon, "You're so Vain"
She discovers she is alone when she wakes up. The walls come closer to shrink the room. No, no, no, she whimpers. She looks around hoping to be dreaming and cries some more when she realizes that she's not.
***
She walks into the room trying to keep her balance. Right foot, left foot -- it's called walking. Everyone is watching her. She keeps walking. The crowd moves closer to her forming a wall.
***
She experiments. If she stamps hard enough the floor make a two-mile wave. She keeps stamping, trying to see how much pressure she should apply to create a wave that would reach the other side of the world -- a wave that would, by principle, go around and hit her in the back. She keeps trying. She thinks the waves are getting bigger. But no. She realizes with some disbelief that she's shrinking.
Like you were walking into a yatch.
- Carly Simon, "You're so Vain"
She discovers she is alone when she wakes up. The walls come closer to shrink the room. No, no, no, she whimpers. She looks around hoping to be dreaming and cries some more when she realizes that she's not.
***
She walks into the room trying to keep her balance. Right foot, left foot -- it's called walking. Everyone is watching her. She keeps walking. The crowd moves closer to her forming a wall.
***
She experiments. If she stamps hard enough the floor make a two-mile wave. She keeps stamping, trying to see how much pressure she should apply to create a wave that would reach the other side of the world -- a wave that would, by principle, go around and hit her in the back. She keeps trying. She thinks the waves are getting bigger. But no. She realizes with some disbelief that she's shrinking.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
She Sees
Nothing on the top but a bucket and a mop
And an illustrated book about birds.
- The Meat Puppets / Nirvana, Plateau
If you would look closely you would see that she's panicking. She's throwing sidelong glances of panic -- on the lookout for her friends. She's biting her lips, trying not to cry.
But of course you don't see her panic because she hides it well. Furthermore, you don't see her panic because you don't see her at all and it takes her a while before she realizes that no one can see her.
She takes advantage of this weird situation and goes past the sign that says "Keep Out" and keeps going up the steps and she only stops when she reaches the top where she sees --
And an illustrated book about birds.
- The Meat Puppets / Nirvana, Plateau
If you would look closely you would see that she's panicking. She's throwing sidelong glances of panic -- on the lookout for her friends. She's biting her lips, trying not to cry.
But of course you don't see her panic because she hides it well. Furthermore, you don't see her panic because you don't see her at all and it takes her a while before she realizes that no one can see her.
She takes advantage of this weird situation and goes past the sign that says "Keep Out" and keeps going up the steps and she only stops when she reaches the top where she sees --
Monday, February 05, 2007
Glass
Trusting my soul to the ice cream assassin.
- Tori Amos
People think I know where I'm going but the truth is I don't. I don't even recognize the clothes that I'm wearing and when they call my name -- Camille -- it's like it's not my name at all.
Nevertheless, things feel familiar. I'm in a building made of glass. When I ride the elevator made of glass I wonder if people from below can see my underwear. The glass is so clear. I can see miles away to what could be... uhm... Antipolo, maybe.
Then I see the bullet come toward me ever so slowly that I have time to make a list in my mind of all the people who would want me dead.
- Tori Amos
People think I know where I'm going but the truth is I don't. I don't even recognize the clothes that I'm wearing and when they call my name -- Camille -- it's like it's not my name at all.
Nevertheless, things feel familiar. I'm in a building made of glass. When I ride the elevator made of glass I wonder if people from below can see my underwear. The glass is so clear. I can see miles away to what could be... uhm... Antipolo, maybe.
Then I see the bullet come toward me ever so slowly that I have time to make a list in my mind of all the people who would want me dead.
Sunday, February 04, 2007
Without a Glitch
We pass several basement levels before we finally find the right one. I don't even know what we are looking for but we keep going lower down.
When we reach the level that we decide is the right one we all do what we're supposed to do as a team. No one is giving us orders -- we just know what to do.
Some doors can only be opened by at least two people -- one person punches a code on one side of the room while another person inserts the access card on the other side. It's really tricky. Someone keeps screwing up but it goes off without a glitch when me and my partner do it. We manage somehow to open these strict doors -- me punching in a code I didn't know in a machine I didn't know I could operate and my partner inserting an access card I didn't know she had. This small achievement makes me happy.
When we reach the level that we decide is the right one we all do what we're supposed to do as a team. No one is giving us orders -- we just know what to do.
Some doors can only be opened by at least two people -- one person punches a code on one side of the room while another person inserts the access card on the other side. It's really tricky. Someone keeps screwing up but it goes off without a glitch when me and my partner do it. We manage somehow to open these strict doors -- me punching in a code I didn't know in a machine I didn't know I could operate and my partner inserting an access card I didn't know she had. This small achievement makes me happy.
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