sordidlilthing

Hokkairo

I wrap my cold hands around you and I --

-- hear the wide smiles of a hundred wanting arms and stomachs
-- see the wafting scent of cakes and assorted sweetness
-- hear the love that feeds with burning eyes
-- dream the fiery cold winters and the empty pockets
-- taste the gentle taptaptap of the sun on my back

Am ready for today, and the day after the next, and all other days
With your soft words rolled up into a ball in my palm
Tomorrow maybe it's summer again

Your smile is ready; it’s going to be a tough day.
Bags and bags lay across your back
A famous name is etched across your chest
You feel like you can fly and stop breathing.
Marching along the riverbank, the sharp rocks
Stab through your shoes to your toes
Your bag jostles with the sound of weight
Keeping in tune with a hundred steps
The sun is high, sweat drips from your neck
Soaking your shirt, revealing then perfect skin.
Arriving at the peeling walls, they are waiting
Dogs wagging hairless tails, tongues lolling
You carry with you a day’s worth of joy.
Wrinkled palms grip your steady hands, flies circling
Feasting on thick, sweet-smelling scabs
Thin, sagging breasts and blackened gums
Somewhere there is dark grey smoke
Someone shouts orders, your turn to move
Crying in the next room, that’s nothing new
A long line forms in front of you, you feel your life
Emptying and filling with blessed noise.
There's a certain strength found in your newly baked hands.
A certain roughness that's perfectly ruined.

You smile at those strangers and their hearts break
They smile back expectantly at you and you think
I've got nothing of what you already have
And I've got more of what you'll always need.

That was the end of your story.
We both cry because it’s sad, it's a lot.
Because you so love the world
The world wants you dead before their very eyes.
There's a need out there, and it eclipses mine
And after all, I want you to stay.
Right now it's the ugliest thing anyone can hear.

R

I want to write your name on my palm, all over the creases and fates, and put it in my pocket.
I want to sing a song for you in the bathroom, your sweetness bouncing from the tiles, nonsense beyond the cold walls.
I want to sit next to you, to smile and talk and listen and touch you, in a crowded room filled with noise.
I want to see you in a place you and I haven’t been, where others will never be.
I think I love you. I don’t want to look into your eyes for too long. I don’t want to think about you at all.
I’m glad no one knows you. I hope they will never know.

Zen and Japanese Culture
A Critical Analysis


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Filipino Martial Arts and the Anthropology of the Body
An Analysis

( We also have arnis! )

Museum Assessment of
The Blanco Family Museum
in Angono, Rizal

( In the span of two months of research, interviews, and actual museum visits and tours )

A response to Patrick Alcedo’s Sacred Camp:
Transgendering Faith in a Philippine Festival

( Regarding gender, sexuality, and the blurring lines )

This journal now will not only include poetry, original fiction and fanfiction, but also my own written essays and articles. I decided to post them so that I would be able to store my essays online for back-up in case my hard drive goes kaput, for easier reference, and also so that other people can read them as well (only if they want to).

Here's one already!

The Noble Failure
Honor, Duty and Sacrifice in Post-War Japanese Film

( As portrayed in Masaki Kobayashi's Seppuku and Akira Kurosawa's High and Low )

3:06 A.M.
Oh god, tomorrow. Tomorrow. Technically today. Fucking paper took ages. Deconstructing Arturo Luz’s Semi-Representational, Semi-Abstracted Lavandera, dated 1946, and the Impact of Neo-Realism in Philippine Modern Art. Will she ask me tomorrow? Is it an interrogation? Will they shoot me square on the chest as I stand there gaping, trying to bullshit my way through? On the other hand

3:10 A.M.
Dates, dates, dates. Names. Places. 1965. Epifanio. 1972. Enrile. The New Society features the New and Improved 3.5% Growth. Veritas. How many holes were there in the boat? Where did the crocodile come from? A certain number of people whose lives are an estimate. 1980. Do we even have

3:17 A.M.
I might as well wear those boots I bought at the secondhand thrift shop down the road, coupled with my favourite flashy statement shirt. I have four classes tomorrow/today, so everyone can see it. I’ll bring the polka-dot bag with all those sparkly shit hanging from the zippers. What about my jacket? I think it’s quite

3:18 A.M.
I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. I was so sure last Monday. Should I earn more money first before I venture into higher studies? Last night I watched the news, and my heart stopped beating for thirty minutes. Do I really have a future based on those scenes that flashed from the screen? I’m watching everyone on TV, and I’m watching myself. Ginsberg once said

3:21 A.M.
There’s a red light in my eyes that I can’t scratch out. This t-shirt is too tight. My nipples are too hard. My legs are getting the cramps. Something’s not right with the lights from the window. This is

5:45 A.M
Why can’t I fall asleep?






7:39 A.M.
I can’t wait to go to bed tonight.

The Wedding
Chapter One
Summary: A love story about two men from a small town, and the other beings who mess with them. Contains vague mentions of Philippine folklore and pop culture, true stories from exclusive highschools (word-of-mouth), and misconduct regarding starfish.

Concrit will be greatly appreciated because I wrote this at some ungodly hour and I'm not exactly sure what I'm doing.

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He taught me many things – for example, why one must always think things through. Alone, at first, then with the acknowledgment of others. We had it made. Our apartment was tidy and us and now it’s bare and I don’t remember where it went. He was there until the beginning, always a saving voice. It was always about the others. He could cure diseases with his smile; I’ve learned that I did not own him, and they were begging for his steady hands, his clear eyes. The world wanted him more than I did, so I let him go.

She, on the other hand, taught me to take my time. It was years ago. We were young, and I wanted it fast, and she would put her arms around me and say no. Always to wait. I couldn’t wait, but her patience spilled over, slowly, like a blanket of seas. It would embrace me, and I wanted it. All of it. Soon I recognized my need was different than that of what she required of me, and the waters crashed and ebbed, and my heart was heavy with the weight.

That was before. They taught me what I now know, and I’ve known that the proper way to smile is to show your teeth, that to use your feet is to dance, that to open your eyes is like thanking the day. And I wish my arms were long enough, strong enough to take everything and pull them close to me, even if it hurts, so I may drink the happiness, the madness, the excitement, the unending misery.

I can’t wait to fall in love!

Title: The Sublime Moment
Rating: Adult
Summary: A woman meets an ex-girlfriend in a coffee shop, and remembers.
A/N: The title and the story is influenced by Salvador Dali's painting of the same name.

( Warning: Sex, sex, and possible what-the-fuck )

Pain is an Essay

For yesterday's class, we were required to write a paper about New Systematic Methods in Analyzing and Deconstructing Human Social Structure. I stared at the tiny dots on a piece of paper, from my pen. There was no guidance; it was white and wrinkled. The waste basket grew full, and I turned to the screen, where my fingers wandered lightly over the keys, and important words came up, really big things that define the world.

And now this.

There's actually a melodic scheme to it, when you're lonely.

The Games of Men

Rating: R
Summary: The Games Men Play, and what comes twenty six years later. All events, characters and situations are very loosely based on real life. DUNDUNDUN

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Once Upon a Time

Once upon a time a boy was born
Healthy, always looked after
By mom and dad
Top in his class
Good kid, the best friend
your lover most
loved
He spoke on graduation day and drank
a bit, happily
Heights were reached with
no excess
That position was made for him, you see
Wedding day was light blue
and all smiles
Soon came another boy and two girls
Bright, brilliant
loved

One night he goes to sleep and the air escapes him
There is no reason, only his heart gave out and his
face was wet, even before he found it

From a Friend

Right across
a girlfriend you've
fucked
Twice on Sundays
Party downstairs, mother
calls her a tramp
There is a little
future waiting there
You don't want
to know
but it ends right there
when it goes
Still