Dinner, S'il Vous Plait?

I assure you we'll have fun with or without you.

Oh, but if you must insist e-mail me for the details.

And lest I forget, bloggers only.

To You

You, yes, you I thought we had talked about this.

Is it too much to ask that favor from you?

We had talked civilly about it, you agreed.

We both had made that agreement.

Can't you just fucking get me out of your blog list?

Is that too fucking hard to ask?

Yes, you. You know who you are.

Extensions To Existence

"You here, G?"


A good friend of mine suddenly messaged me through FB.


"Yes I am."


I replied.


"What's your number?"


I gave him my number.


After a few moments of going back and forth to various websites, I saw an unknown number calling my phone.


"Hello?"


"G, I lost my phone." His voice deep and a little disturbed.


"Oh..." A moment of silence fell.


"Where'd you lose it?" I added.


"I don't know."


"I see."


"It's irritating G."


"I could understand how you feel. That is normal."


"Well, that's how it really is, no?"


"Yes, yes it is." I quite agree.


"It actually amazes me when you just said it's irritating." I quickly added.


"Why?" He asked.


"Well, I for one, when I lost my phone last October, I literally got disoriented near the MRT station. I was like Sisa amidst the people walking along the busy sidewalk."


"I guess that's just how it is G."


"Yes. I know exactly what you mean. So, have you called Globe about your lost phone?"


"Ah yes, I haven't. Call you in a bit."


"Okay, thanks."


Phones may be tangible objects. But sometimes people regard them as more than that.


That phone you lost after a break-up and kept you somehow intact.


That phone you lost where you attended your best friend's wedding where you took photos and marvelled at the whole occasion.


That phone you lost while opening gifts with your family during Christmas and how you took a mediocre video of your family getting all rowdy and rough, and joyful.


These were all stored there, along with thousands of others.


So you see, tangible as it may be, phones are more than what some people think.


It's part of us and when we lose them in various ways, we see ourselves losing a part of those events.


As if we never had them at all...

Beyond The Ball

"I managed to get you in the ball. See you?"

The queen summoned me to the ball.

But G then realized he was already set for O bar that same night.

Tsk, tsk, tsk.

Oh well, let them have Izumi to conquer.

I, on the other hand, shall have Ortigas for the taking.

No Mas

Closure. The next best thing you could ask.

Differentiating Memories...

What do you remember most?

Yes, you, what type of memories linger around in your mind? Floating. Wafting. Sticking.

Sometimes, memories are like that. It brings us of unique sets of emotions overlying each other.

But we cannot help it. It is after all part of the process of maturity and development.

An acquaintance recently sent a message that goes something like this: "Let's get rid of the memories that makes us feel sad and relieve only those that makes us happy."

And even though I abhor quotations, I cannot help but rationalize on what she just forwarded.

Can we really do that? Separate those that just makes us happy, ecstatic, and disregard those that makes us sad?

Soon I realized we can try our best to but for the most part, almost nil.

I then asked her "what if the memories you have are both sad then happy?"

She replied, "then retain the happy and let go of the sad part."

It confused me.

I replied again "well what if you can't?"

She eagerly replied "then maybe you have not gotten over that person yet. Why would it even make you sad?"

But I am over that person, longer than I have known her. The mystifying part of memories is that it offers you exactly both - the wonderful times you spent together and the lonely moments of misunderstanding and release.

You cannot remove one from the other, block them from flowing into your realm because these occurred at least one after the other...

She cannot understand that, thus I finally asked her "how many boyfriends have you had already?"

"Without the flings? Two."

And then I finally understood what she wants to say. Or a part of it at least.

Flow

Nightmare or memory? - soothsayer, Kung Fu Panda 2

A Foreign Tale

"Life in China was difficult ever since, especially in Shanghai."


No, no, you are wrong. Shanghai housed the most affluent Chinese people, yes, but they also housed the poorest of people.


I am one of them.


Maybe you think I exaggerate this to ask pity and sympathy, but I do not.


I tell it is as it is.


I hear it as it is.


I see it as it is.


Now I tell you my story, my family's story. The way I have learned from it all.


I was born in a brood of three. My mother, a housewife. And my father, a che fu - rickshaw puller.


You say,what is wrong with that, being a rickshaw puller?


Well I tell you now, everything. During those times of economic boom in Shanghai, rickshaw pullers were regarded as lowest of class. No, not even the untouchables of India. Not even better than zibuyong or even pua iyam. Not even higher than a fruitless divorced wife!


I tell you, they were the lowest of class.


But Ba ba never complained about that. He never did. He just kept quiet whenever Ma ma would complain about our life. He just looks at her and then goes out of the house. A heavy heart after a light breakfast. That was how it is.


Ba ba never complained because he felt it was fate that we were like that. His grandfather was che fu. His father also che fu. And so the only thing he inherited was an old rickshaw from Ye ye. But by the time he inherited the rickshaw after grandfather's death, it was too old to use and too used to be sold.


But Ma ma was so persistent in nagging Ba ba to sell it. Oh, I can still remember Ma ma gritting her teeth and shrilling in anger when she says it can be sold for a few yuan if he only tried!


But Ba ba did try his best to sell it. He tried to sell it in every corner of Shanghai's poor districts.


Baah! Why buy something that can not be used anymore! Said a man where father went to first.


It is very old, afraid not much use even for heating through cold nights. Said another man.


Ai ya! No, I see how old and rotten it is already! One sits there and the thing will smash to bits! Another man told us.


So at an early age I have learned how our life was very different from the other Shanghainese.


When I think about it, Shangainese people seemed very regal, full of splendor and eccentricity. But as for me  and my family, very opposite. No signs of regality and eccentricity.


After looking for a short while for people to buy the rickshaw, my Ba ba finally gave up and said it was useless. The rickshaw is very old, very ancient even.


So one day while I was playing and taking care of my younger siblings Mei and You, father came home with lots of wood. I stopped playing and looked at Ba ba, and I was wondering what he will do with all those wood?


When he went in, I can already hear Ma ma and her high-pitched voice resonating from our wooden house. She was already arguing while Pa pa was calmly telling her what he will do with the old rickshaw. Pa pa told Ma ma he will reinforce the rickshaw, making it stronger, better, sturdier than before.


Of course Ma ma was in a fit! She knew Ba ba borrowed money to buy the wood and we barely had enough to eat and now in debt! Ma ma's voice at that time was so loud, I thought the Buddha in a shrine from the distant north would suddenly wake up, fly, and slap her.


In the end, when Ba ba had finished telling his side of the story and the inside storm had passed, Ma ma just made a deep sigh and started preparing lunch.








Part 1