A Brook na Ligwak in the City

"There used to be a rice field there," Tiya Maria, our landlady, said as she pointed to an area away, parallel to their old wooden  house.

I looked in the direction where she pointed but the area was being blocked by a three-storey building.

"Yeah, I've heard. My Dad used to say that back in the 80's they used to shoot a lot of movies here - especially scenes that are supposedly 'in the province'. He used to live somewhere nearby when he was still studying in UP Diliman."

Lie number one: Dad didn't board in Krus na Ligas in the 80's. Lie number two: Neither was he enrolled in UP Diliman. He was an economics major in UP Manila before he flunked his subjects, lost his sholarship grant, then joined PMA. He had a few subjects in Diliman though (I wonder how light the traffic was then).

Lying to an old woman wasn't the point. At that moment, I just wanted Tiya Maria to continue talking about the old Krus na Ligas. I was curious of how it was before the buildings like the one in front of their house crammed along the narrow streets of Bruk Na Ligwak (As I and other members from UP Babaylan call it).


"It was a lot different from before."


Krus na Ligas is a sleeping city, literally. It's a sea of boarding houses and dormitories with an economy built around the meager budget of students, transient laborers, etc. (Rich kids stay in Loyola Heights or UP Vill, duh!).

Nothing fascinates me more than the redundancy of establishments in Bruk. Along the main street where the tricycle route passes one can find an internet cafe, a laundry shop, a carinderia or two, a pharmacy, a sari-sari store and another sari-sari store abundant of school supplies. And they appear again after every thirty steps or so.





<oops! off to PELANGUI. to be continued!>

It's so much brighter outside

When there is no monster lurking outside to cause you fright
                 Because they don't come out in broad daylight
When there are no shadows that enormous dark clouds cast
                 For there isn't a single bad weather forecast
When there's not one thief to steal the worth of your toils
                Since they've all left to eat others' spoils
Then there's no reason left for me to dwell
In the darkness of my impenetrable shell
Because in my gloom, I must not reside
When it's so much brighter outside

The Ugly Person That I am

Indio

While drinking beer around 8am:

"Ano bang dinadrama mo? Sabi mo nga, lagpas isang daan na napechay mo."

Mark lectured. 

I stopped and thought deeply. Was I really ugly when I've got laid that much at this age? Sex is cheap. I can get it anytime and I'm sure that those instances had little to do with my looks but otherwise were largely due to the outpouring libido from me and my partner's body. Laman tiyan din ako.

Mark went on.

"You see, you're not that bad looking. Look at the chocolate beauty you are."

Easy for him to say. He's mestizo looking, so does his boyfriend. He speaks as if we dark skinned Filipinos are really seen as beautiful. I bet when asked to make a choice between a moreno or a maputing hunk, he'd surely pick the fair skinned one.

"Matangos naman ilong mo..."

Fuck off.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Magsasaka

While my friend and I were in her car:
 

"Ang cute nya talaga. Parang kahit malayo alam mong mabango siya..."

This trip, I knew where she was heading. 

"Ang linis-linis nya tignan.."

Here's the best part. I could not help but cut her and drive her to the point.

I muttered, "Kasi...?"

"Amputi nya kaya."

So ako madumi? Eh kung ihulog kita sa bangin?

NEXT!!!

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Kargador

"Dann, keri ka din man, borta ka naman"

Knowing JC for 6 years, I'm sure he wouldn't stop there. I know his formula:

1. Acknowledge your pain
2. Say something comforting
3. Insert an insult somewhere
4. Roll on the floor and laugh

"Kaya lang, di pang model. Pang kargador sa pier. Hahaha"

Sabi na nga ba

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Negrito

This one I cracked myself.

"Chinito naman ako ah..."

"Chinese Negrito!"

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Hahaha. I hope this scares you away from my blog, hustler!

A Desire to Escape - Chapter 1 - Hungover

Chapter 1 - Hungover

I woke up with a heavy hangover and raked over the sheets for my phone. I felt on my face the thick warm sunlight that crept through the curtains. It was 30 minutes past eight. The hum of motorcycles and the clamor of chismosas outside said that the rest of the world were unraveling the day while I was still lying dead flat in my bed. 

I struggled to get up. I felt like a piece of rag dangling from a clothesline, only smelling like a pack of Marlboro's and a case of Red Horse. Then I staggered to the bathroom carrying a towel that I didn't know when I last changed. 

While I took a dump, I pictured the shit I'll go through for the rest of the day. 

One of them is the email notifying the department that I will be coming to work late. "[OOO] Late - <my name here>", it would say. If my job and output won't be enough for my bosses to notice me, I bet this email would. 

Next is the look on my teammates faces once they see me approach my workstation. I'd walk in with blood-shot eyes and an outfit that looked like something I pulled out of the wardrobe of a hobo. In my head I can imagine them praise me on how I manage to look like roadkill all the time.

Another is my boss's homily on my chronic lates versus my being probee. The sermon would drag on for the next few weeks but hopefully she'll just get tired and let me be. I may be always late coming to work but I always get the job done. I won't be terminated (but being regularized is totally a different question), I think.

My phone set off another alarm. I was being reminded again that I was late. I slipped in to my hobo clothes, put a chunk of wax on my hair, gave it a quick fix then grabbed my keys to the house. Off to work - the roadkill boy.