after a fight comes an empty feeling...
a sense of numbness, all colors fading...
the lonely heart questions, "was it really so?"
first pain, the stuppor, then thoughts of you...
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Sunday, November 23, 2008
random thoughts
its Prudence, not Insensitivity, that prevents us from looking down a cliff when we know we'll find something interesting below and end up falling >.<
Friday, November 21, 2008
sputters
that's the final version of Bernardo: A Prelude (special thanks to tHe AraChne for edits).
its the first of a planned 3-part retelling of the Bernardo Carpio legend that most of us know.
for those who have no idea who the f**k is he, just double click on the internet browser>go google.com or yahoo.com or any other search portal> and type bernardo carpio on the space provided and> hit search (taken from page 4 paragraph 3 of "The Complete Bobo's Guide to the Internet")
it's a bit long, and yes i know that most of us get intimidated by words longer than 2 syllables but since you're here reading this sputter (more incomprehensible version of a rant) then you might as well consider reading the one which i actually used my mind writing.
comments, suggestions, violent reactions, flames, Kame-Hame waves, Death Threats, Fire Jutsus, Laguna Blades, Impale, Voodoo, or anything (yes even compliments) are openly accepted. Just know that karma is a two way process.
and oh, before i forget...
anything that you read in this blog is just a figment of my balitangag (aklanon for twisted) mind. any similarities to whomever, whatever, wherever you know which may have disturbed you.... is your problem not mine.
iv'e said my piece. gudnyt. >.<
its the first of a planned 3-part retelling of the Bernardo Carpio legend that most of us know.
for those who have no idea who the f**k is he, just double click on the internet browser>go google.com or yahoo.com or any other search portal> and type bernardo carpio on the space provided and> hit search (taken from page 4 paragraph 3 of "The Complete Bobo's Guide to the Internet")
it's a bit long, and yes i know that most of us get intimidated by words longer than 2 syllables but since you're here reading this sputter (more incomprehensible version of a rant) then you might as well consider reading the one which i actually used my mind writing.
comments, suggestions, violent reactions, flames, Kame-Hame waves, Death Threats, Fire Jutsus, Laguna Blades, Impale, Voodoo, or anything (yes even compliments) are openly accepted. Just know that karma is a two way process.
and oh, before i forget...
anything that you read in this blog is just a figment of my balitangag (aklanon for twisted) mind. any similarities to whomever, whatever, wherever you know which may have disturbed you.... is your problem not mine.
iv'e said my piece. gudnyt. >.<
Thursday, November 20, 2008
Bernardo: A Prelude
We would meet at midnight at the forest behind our house, when my elders are sleeping soundly - I could hear my parents snore (even my mother). He would always appear behind me.
He would whisper my name close to my ears, and i would feel like being swept in a warm flow of endless happiness.
And the night would be lost within his arms. Oh those strong arms...
Then i would wake up in my own bed the following morning, craving for his touch and his burning gaze and his voice and his hot breath and passionate kiss and...
"Tonyo and his family will be coming here tonight to talk about your marriage with his son."
That was Tatay. Nanay wasn't talking.
I gave a barely visible nod. It’s not that I don't like Tonyo's son, I just don't want him. All he knows is to plow the field without speaking a single word to anyone. I would pass him on my way to the well each morning, and all he would muster is stupid a glance that would not even last till my next step. I don’t want timid men. Men are supposed to be strong, aggressive, like a bull that marches on a thicket. Tonyo’s lizard of a son was nowhere near the man I meet each night. But I will marry him, I won’t disobey my parents.
Besides, the parish priest says that what I do at midnight is a sin. Bah! As if I don’t see him chasing Anita down the river at dusk and doing exactly what I do at midnight! It’s a sin at midnight but not at dusk?
“I still think that your daughter is too young to marry off,” mother finally said.
“Hush woman! We already discussed this. Dress your daughter properly before Tonyo comes. And don’t speak when you’re not talked to,” boomed father.
Now you know why I just gave a nod. Even the cackling hen at the attic fell silent.
“Bathe yourself now child, while I prepare your grandmother’s dress”
My mother can’t even look at my eyes. At least we won’t suffer the same fate. The lizard I would be marrying doesn’t know how to boom, much less croak. And there’s always my midnight man (I always forget his name, I’ll just ask him again tonight).
And so they agreed. By the next full moon I would be the lizard’s wife, and he was visibly smiling about it. I just sat at the mat, wearing my grandmother’s moldy dress, itching all over, and lusting about the midnight about to come. My nearby uncles and cousins came, but I know they came just for the roasted pigs and crabs and binakol and sweets that Tonyo brought. That was my price?! The Carpio clan went away with the rest of my own kin after dinner and a few rounds of lambanog. My father went snoring happily while mother was stealing some of the putrid drink for herself.
Pretty soon I was in my lovers arms.
“I’ll be married off by the next full moon.”
“I know.”
“Will I still see you?”
“No, you won’t even remember seeing me after tonight.”
“But I don’t want to forget you…” I pleaded with my heart woven with ice.
“I know.”
We fell silent. I took his lips in mine and I tasted honey and I tasted spring and I tasted the morning dew.
“Will you give me a child? At least let me have a part of you with me. I know now that you are not of this world and we can’t be together, that’s why we meet at midnight in this lunok tree and I can’t remember your name no matter how many times I ask you of it.”
He just looked into my eyes. I clung to him and pressed my body against his.
“Please…”
I felt his arms wrap around me. I clung tighter.
“I will.”
That single midnight stretched longer than usual, and I rode waves of ecstasy as I felt him inside me. I felt him, felt him in my every cell, and I felt like melting as I clung to him.
I heard the first distant crow, and I knew I must go home.
“Will you tell me your name again?”
“You’ll just forget it when you wake up.”
“Then don’t make me forget.”
He just smiled. Perhaps he was surprised when I figured out that it was also him who was making me forget his name.
“I am called Bernachjardious by my kind, intelligent woman. But you can call me Bernardo, and you won’t forget. Farewell my beloved. Know that I am watching over you and my child, but you will no longer see me after this.”
I closed my eyes as we kissed one last time. I felt the rush of the morning breeze and when I opened my eyes, I was at my own bed.
I returned the following midnight. I waited for him. I waited for his hot breath whispering my name. I waited for the scent of distant flowers that always tell me that he has arrived. I waited for the silence. I waited, but no one came save for the small creatures of the night. And i understood that he will never come again. I walked silently home as warm tears flowed down my cheeks.
The wedding went as they planned. It was all a blur to me. Only one thing was worthy of my attention: I bled when my husband took me that night.
I suddenly found myself craving for honey in the month that followed, and I always felt dizzy. My mother confirmed what I knew long ago. I was pregnant.
My husband ran straight to the carabao and trotted off to his parents house after I told him about it. I don't know. Perhaps he jumped and cried "tuckoo, tuckoo, tuckoo" when he got there because of joy. Or maybe he kissed their dirt floor like lizards do at sunset. All I know for sure was that he was showing me all his teeth before he ran. Perhaps it was his way of smiling.
As the carabao disappeared over the nearby hill, I visited the old lunok where Bernardo used to hold me. I sat on the smooth stone where his lap used to be. I buried my feet beneath the soft fallen leaves where we used to lie. I saw the canopy of branches that used to swirl along with everything else whenever he consumes me. I heard the murmur of the wind and felt the cool breeze. But i never felt Bernardo.
I touched the trunk of the unknown tree that is now wrapped with roots of the monster vine. In a way, Bernardo was the lunok as I was the withered tree that I am touching now. He took everything in me and left a shell that could no longer see the world of daylight. I live in an endless recollection of that last midnight. I live beneath the roots of his memories. Consumed. Spent.
"Bernardo, is this your child? I was never supposed to bleed on my wedding day if this is yours. I shouldn't have felt the pain like when you first took me. Were you so cold so as not to grant my request?"
But only the rustle of the wind was the forest's reply.
That afternoon, my husband returned with a swollen upper left eyelid and plenty of scratches on his arms and legs. But he was carrying a small jug on his shoulders. He kneeled down in front of me and removed the crumpled banana leaf that covered the jug's mouth. It was filled with honey. I let out a small strangled cry of joy. He spent his whole day looking for bee's nests. I threw my arms around my grinning husband.
That was the first time I hugged him.
The next days marked a change on my liz.. - I mean husband. He became more cheerful. He would come home with a jugful of honey each night (with less scratches and bee stings), and he just won't let me lift a hand for household chores while he's inside the house.
The most delicious change comes at dawn. He would take me with a frenzy that i could only describe as his celebration of his manhood. I couldn't help but sink my nails into his skin as I grip his back for my sanity, afraid that the rushing pleasure would sweep me away. We would collapse, sweaty, exhausted, but smiling afterwards, and I would sleep at the sound of his slowing heartbeat.
I can't deny that I am slowly learning to like, no... to love, my husband. Days would pass that Bernardo won't cross my mind, and the days stretched into months. As my stomach got bigger and as my husband stays longer and longer by my side, guilt slowly replaced the repulsion I once felt. I no longer wanted my child to be of Bernardo's. Anita had a miscarriage, and the hilot ( a distant aunt) told me (along with all the women washing clothes by the river) that the baby looked like a devil. If that baby looked like a devil despite being fathered by a priest (which looked human enough to me), then how would my own baby look like? I was afraid.
"Ire! Ire! Hold your breath and push it down! Push harder! Puuuushhh!"
The delicate cry of the baby filled the room. I closed my eyes and collected my breath while my distant aunt washed my child on the warm water prepared by my husband.
"What a handsome and ooh! such a strong child! Get that lampin you dork and stop smiling like my dog. And where's my glass of lambanog?!" Yes, that was the midwife's most gentle voice.
I opened my eyes in time to see my baby carefully swaddled by my aunt. Wrapped in pale cloth that was colored yellow by the sputtering candle flames, my child looked as if surrounded by light itself. My heart leaped when I saw him. A handsome boy indeed. I held out my hand and held him tenderly against my milk-swollen breasts. I bowed my head down and kissed him on his small forehead, when his small hand crept up and grabbed my chin the way babies do. And I knew! Oh Merciful Virgin and all the other saints! I knew. I knew...
"What will you name him?" the hilot asked in a voice that was surprisingly filled with tenderness.
"Bernardo..." was my answer as a single tear started rolling down my face.
The room smelled of distant flowers.
*******
edited by: tHe AraChne (^_~)
He would whisper my name close to my ears, and i would feel like being swept in a warm flow of endless happiness.
And the night would be lost within his arms. Oh those strong arms...
Then i would wake up in my own bed the following morning, craving for his touch and his burning gaze and his voice and his hot breath and passionate kiss and...
"Tonyo and his family will be coming here tonight to talk about your marriage with his son."
That was Tatay. Nanay wasn't talking.
I gave a barely visible nod. It’s not that I don't like Tonyo's son, I just don't want him. All he knows is to plow the field without speaking a single word to anyone. I would pass him on my way to the well each morning, and all he would muster is stupid a glance that would not even last till my next step. I don’t want timid men. Men are supposed to be strong, aggressive, like a bull that marches on a thicket. Tonyo’s lizard of a son was nowhere near the man I meet each night. But I will marry him, I won’t disobey my parents.
Besides, the parish priest says that what I do at midnight is a sin. Bah! As if I don’t see him chasing Anita down the river at dusk and doing exactly what I do at midnight! It’s a sin at midnight but not at dusk?
“I still think that your daughter is too young to marry off,” mother finally said.
“Hush woman! We already discussed this. Dress your daughter properly before Tonyo comes. And don’t speak when you’re not talked to,” boomed father.
Now you know why I just gave a nod. Even the cackling hen at the attic fell silent.
“Bathe yourself now child, while I prepare your grandmother’s dress”
My mother can’t even look at my eyes. At least we won’t suffer the same fate. The lizard I would be marrying doesn’t know how to boom, much less croak. And there’s always my midnight man (I always forget his name, I’ll just ask him again tonight).
And so they agreed. By the next full moon I would be the lizard’s wife, and he was visibly smiling about it. I just sat at the mat, wearing my grandmother’s moldy dress, itching all over, and lusting about the midnight about to come. My nearby uncles and cousins came, but I know they came just for the roasted pigs and crabs and binakol and sweets that Tonyo brought. That was my price?! The Carpio clan went away with the rest of my own kin after dinner and a few rounds of lambanog. My father went snoring happily while mother was stealing some of the putrid drink for herself.
Pretty soon I was in my lovers arms.
“I’ll be married off by the next full moon.”
“I know.”
“Will I still see you?”
“No, you won’t even remember seeing me after tonight.”
“But I don’t want to forget you…” I pleaded with my heart woven with ice.
“I know.”
We fell silent. I took his lips in mine and I tasted honey and I tasted spring and I tasted the morning dew.
“Will you give me a child? At least let me have a part of you with me. I know now that you are not of this world and we can’t be together, that’s why we meet at midnight in this lunok tree and I can’t remember your name no matter how many times I ask you of it.”
He just looked into my eyes. I clung to him and pressed my body against his.
“Please…”
I felt his arms wrap around me. I clung tighter.
“I will.”
That single midnight stretched longer than usual, and I rode waves of ecstasy as I felt him inside me. I felt him, felt him in my every cell, and I felt like melting as I clung to him.
I heard the first distant crow, and I knew I must go home.
“Will you tell me your name again?”
“You’ll just forget it when you wake up.”
“Then don’t make me forget.”
He just smiled. Perhaps he was surprised when I figured out that it was also him who was making me forget his name.
“I am called Bernachjardious by my kind, intelligent woman. But you can call me Bernardo, and you won’t forget. Farewell my beloved. Know that I am watching over you and my child, but you will no longer see me after this.”
I closed my eyes as we kissed one last time. I felt the rush of the morning breeze and when I opened my eyes, I was at my own bed.
I returned the following midnight. I waited for him. I waited for his hot breath whispering my name. I waited for the scent of distant flowers that always tell me that he has arrived. I waited for the silence. I waited, but no one came save for the small creatures of the night. And i understood that he will never come again. I walked silently home as warm tears flowed down my cheeks.
The wedding went as they planned. It was all a blur to me. Only one thing was worthy of my attention: I bled when my husband took me that night.
I suddenly found myself craving for honey in the month that followed, and I always felt dizzy. My mother confirmed what I knew long ago. I was pregnant.
My husband ran straight to the carabao and trotted off to his parents house after I told him about it. I don't know. Perhaps he jumped and cried "tuckoo, tuckoo, tuckoo" when he got there because of joy. Or maybe he kissed their dirt floor like lizards do at sunset. All I know for sure was that he was showing me all his teeth before he ran. Perhaps it was his way of smiling.
As the carabao disappeared over the nearby hill, I visited the old lunok where Bernardo used to hold me. I sat on the smooth stone where his lap used to be. I buried my feet beneath the soft fallen leaves where we used to lie. I saw the canopy of branches that used to swirl along with everything else whenever he consumes me. I heard the murmur of the wind and felt the cool breeze. But i never felt Bernardo.
I touched the trunk of the unknown tree that is now wrapped with roots of the monster vine. In a way, Bernardo was the lunok as I was the withered tree that I am touching now. He took everything in me and left a shell that could no longer see the world of daylight. I live in an endless recollection of that last midnight. I live beneath the roots of his memories. Consumed. Spent.
"Bernardo, is this your child? I was never supposed to bleed on my wedding day if this is yours. I shouldn't have felt the pain like when you first took me. Were you so cold so as not to grant my request?"
But only the rustle of the wind was the forest's reply.
That afternoon, my husband returned with a swollen upper left eyelid and plenty of scratches on his arms and legs. But he was carrying a small jug on his shoulders. He kneeled down in front of me and removed the crumpled banana leaf that covered the jug's mouth. It was filled with honey. I let out a small strangled cry of joy. He spent his whole day looking for bee's nests. I threw my arms around my grinning husband.
That was the first time I hugged him.
The next days marked a change on my liz.. - I mean husband. He became more cheerful. He would come home with a jugful of honey each night (with less scratches and bee stings), and he just won't let me lift a hand for household chores while he's inside the house.
The most delicious change comes at dawn. He would take me with a frenzy that i could only describe as his celebration of his manhood. I couldn't help but sink my nails into his skin as I grip his back for my sanity, afraid that the rushing pleasure would sweep me away. We would collapse, sweaty, exhausted, but smiling afterwards, and I would sleep at the sound of his slowing heartbeat.
I can't deny that I am slowly learning to like, no... to love, my husband. Days would pass that Bernardo won't cross my mind, and the days stretched into months. As my stomach got bigger and as my husband stays longer and longer by my side, guilt slowly replaced the repulsion I once felt. I no longer wanted my child to be of Bernardo's. Anita had a miscarriage, and the hilot ( a distant aunt) told me (along with all the women washing clothes by the river) that the baby looked like a devil. If that baby looked like a devil despite being fathered by a priest (which looked human enough to me), then how would my own baby look like? I was afraid.
"Ire! Ire! Hold your breath and push it down! Push harder! Puuuushhh!"
The delicate cry of the baby filled the room. I closed my eyes and collected my breath while my distant aunt washed my child on the warm water prepared by my husband.
"What a handsome and ooh! such a strong child! Get that lampin you dork and stop smiling like my dog. And where's my glass of lambanog?!" Yes, that was the midwife's most gentle voice.
I opened my eyes in time to see my baby carefully swaddled by my aunt. Wrapped in pale cloth that was colored yellow by the sputtering candle flames, my child looked as if surrounded by light itself. My heart leaped when I saw him. A handsome boy indeed. I held out my hand and held him tenderly against my milk-swollen breasts. I bowed my head down and kissed him on his small forehead, when his small hand crept up and grabbed my chin the way babies do. And I knew! Oh Merciful Virgin and all the other saints! I knew. I knew...
"What will you name him?" the hilot asked in a voice that was surprisingly filled with tenderness.
"Bernardo..." was my answer as a single tear started rolling down my face.
The room smelled of distant flowers.
*******
edited by: tHe AraChne (^_~)
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
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