Five Poems

I did it. I called up DLSU and UST to inquire about their summer creative writing workshops. The guy from DLSU who answered the phone at around 3:30pm didn't know anything. I hope it doesn't necessarily reflect anything about the other students there. I called UST up hoping for a good reply (being a call center representative eons ago). They told me to call the local number for their creative department. This guy answered and filled me in on the details. Five English poems, a letter of authentification from a professor or employer attesting the originality of the works, and bio-data. Five poems. Seems like an easy task but actually isn't. Imagine having to narrow down all your works into just 5 most essential ones to represent yourself. If I choose the "wrong" ones, I may not get the free workshop this summer. One thing's for sure though, I wouldn't be putting any of my "innuendo" poems. I wouldn't want to be interrogated in front of other poets I don't know and have my work vivisected of it's artistic value and technical soundness. For most, the anonymity would prove liberating. But for me, I just care that much to keep some things sacred for myself.

The afternoon was boooooooring. I just chatted on the phone with a dear friend to pass the time before we eventually met up tonight to rid ourselves of domestic lunacy. When I got to National Bookstore early, I decided to browse around a few books. I came across this novel/compilation of writer/poet Sylvia Plath. I forget the title but the content seems good. There's this other book by Jostein Gaarder called "Vita Brevis" that seemed interesting too. It's a letter of St. Augustine to a woman named Amelia Floris, narrating the changes experienced by Christian management back in his time. It starts with this traveler finding an old box of scrolls in an antiquated cafe or something. I read "Sophie's World" so I bet this one is similar in that it tackles Christian Dogma for dummies. I saw Jessica Hagedorn's book but again, I forget the title. It's this story about retracing Filipino roots from the time of the Spaniards, with an intro/excerpt from Antonio de Pigafetta's journal. Looks promising. The books' hardbound and cost more than P1k. Nevermind....

My friend and I met just at the entrance. We were both wearing black, as if to signify mourning. The other time we met (with another close friend), we were wearing gray. I don't believe it's coincidence. Maybe we were out of clothes. Maybe black and/or gray makes us look thinner. Go figure.

Since it's payday and Valentine's eve, the mall was flooded with people, not necessarily couples. We tried to wade through them toward shops as he was supposed to buy a gift for his "honey". We didn't see anything nice enough, so we went to sit down for coffee. We waited there for my other friend (who didn't come because he was with other friends). It was near death. We were talking all that time, but it was like my sensory cortex was atrophying. There was literally no eye candy in that side of the mall. Nada. Zilch. Null.

We went walking around Malate and decided to go home. At the jitney stop, we both agreed we didn't want to go home yet so we went walking back (carefully avoiding canine dejecta) to Starbucks. I decided I wanted to eat so we went to TGIF and I ordered chicken fingers, ocassionally filling my lungs up with fiery dirt. We talked about a lot of things. Mostly things we already talked about days and days before. Good thing the music was good enough to sway to. We decided to go home after paying the bill. I'm officially penniless.

At the jitney stop, my friend decides to go back to Malate. I decide to go home....

and kill myself by writing this journal.

If it's any consolation, I found a little bit of inspiration to write a series of children's books. I want to make a series that empowers the little adults of this country to be able to decide for themselves, speak up for themselves, and for heaven's sake, stop listening to STUPID music on the radio. I swear, something has to be done before it's too late!!!