The Main Drag

In this scene, we were riding our bikes toward the sunset at the end

of the road. We rushed through plumeria trees and power lines.

The asphalt was a bit of trouble, we couldn't go very fast. You wanted

to race and feel the wind course through your body. The sparrows perched

on branches reaching wires where kites were caught. They flew away

as soon as we passed the shade. Here was the summer I learned

to follow without being forced, passing the neighbor’s farm,

leaking water pipes, yesterday’s garbage, riding down a blind curve.

It was a rough turn, but you wouldn't wait for anyone. We wanted

to know what was at the end. Later you’d find me back at the curb,

my knees skinned raw from the fall. Night came and we left our bikes

to walk home. Convincing ourselves it wasn’t anyone’s fault, our visits

together became less, until we made none at all—I looked for you

to ask if there was anything back there, but that was long ago.

Today, I stumbled upon the same path, more power lines, lights,

a solid road. I’ve walked streets and boulevards in different cities,

though I still catch myself racing, reaching for something to end.

Machine

Suppose I am done with rhetoric. No question left unanswered will bother me. 

I will fall short just when I am about to see. I will remain blind, age, be
resourceful until I give in to uselessness. There is no life in a place you build
in this industry. We have only delusions, simulations, and now, 

a single idea. We die as soon as we live. 

Old Story

Memory is the only mailman moving

in and out of the city. He yearns to break

seals, take photographs, and burn letters

for a sacred ritual. Never mind the smoke

as he keeps his hands from freezing—

he is both thief and retriever.

                                    *

Liz remembers meeting Viktor

in San Francisco. She grew tired

writing him letters. In City Lights

they read books they couldn’t buy.

But don’t mention he was stuck

in Houston, that the bookstore

was closed, or why she never

made it. Now he laughs at forever

alone memes, all the jokes

on him, still wondering

what was it? Folie à deux.

               

                                    *

What is the limit of memory?

A machine fails because it is faulty.

Data occupies space; a PC stores

up to 1TB of data, only it has a slow

processor, like the mind: a complex

organ with complex flaws; how

 could you completely forget?

It has since stopped

data recovery.

                                    *

The laws of synchronicity foretell

photographs taken with the same person

will be taken again—a superstition.

All the same. This is not the case for Viktor,

the twenty-something hipster who misses

the bus again because he stares

at subway graffiti and turnstiles

too long. He thinks: it is difficult to end

a force of habit, sent mails, sans replies.

                                    *

And the mailman remains.

Few walked out of the city

before it was engulfed in flames,

long before they saw the smoke.

Compartment

There were times I tried to displace

tired memories by taking a letter

and hiding it with clutter

inside a drawer that was not mine.

Once, it held Lola’s trinkets: perfumes,

mirrors, yellowed prayer books,

washed-out scapulars and softened

photographs of post war Philippines.

I thought of age and how many times

I tried to gather memories inside

yet misplace—Viktor, she said,

was the only man she loved;

One could never be sure of the other men

who drifted worlds away with wives

and children. How they must have adored

her dark curls with haranas and dahlias

as her father warned them it’s late.

But I’ve stayed up much later, wakeful,

restless, wanting more time with another.

Today, I keep my letters in the same place;

though I could not comprehend

the source of my homesickness,

it is morning and I’m glad—by now

I’ve ceased to notice the absence.

On Loop

An unfamiliar song played on my brother's desktop in 2002. The track title: On Your Side. The Artist: Pete Yorn. I heard it one sleepless night in high school. Before I knew it, I played the song on loop until I fell asleep. It was certainly not the first Yorn song that my awkward-neurotic teenage self liked. But the moment I listened to it, I knew it would be my favorite track from the album, Musicforthemorningafter.

Today, it's been more than ten years since I first heard On Your Side. Throughout the years, I've often returned to this song when I found myself quiet, alone, and unable to articulate things larger than myself: existence, growing up and apart, love, and in the general sense, most matters that inevitably escape us. While this entry will mainly be about the song and how it has become part of my life, I have to say listening to the entire album in high school foreshadowed how most of my relationships, and I, have turned out. It's one of those useless things people find out about their lives that make them feel like funny characters in fucked-up fiction (only here there are no real gods in machines. Just machines that have real hearts trying to make sense of such absurd disjunction).

Video: http://youtu.be/jclHisjkJYI
Song Lyrics:

I’m outside your house
2 am it’s dark
So many mistakes
Come back home from bars

I am on your side
I just want to tell you off

So many lies
Are taking hold
It’s not your fault
There’s many scars

I am on your side
It’s taken me a long time
I am on your side
I’m on your side

And I listen
Yeah I listen
Can you listen?
Now I’m listening

I am on your side
It’s taken me a long time
I am on your side
I’m on your side

(And I listen) I am on your side
(Yeah I listen) It’s taken me a long time
(Can you listen?) I am on your side
(Now I’m listening) I’m heading out tonight
(And I listen) I'm heading out tonight


The message of the song is comforting, as the music harmoniously complements its warm words of acceptance, "I am on your side and I listen..."

Growing up, I've always thought the voice of the man in the song is someone telling me he'll always be on my side. It's possible I've yet to meet this person, or have in fact met such person. Nevertheless, there is that person. Someone who will be there when I'm hurt, hopeful, happy, wrong and spiteful, arrogant and weak. It's a song that simply speaks about love and acceptance; a person who concedes that all other conditions do not matter because he has accepted the other person, for everything they've done, for what he/she is. While I've often wondered if there is such a thing as complete acceptance, the thought that it or something close to it exists somewhere is comforting.

Truth be told, I'm not sure if it's entirely possible for anyone out there to accept another person through and through, to love both their light and dark sides, put up with various disappointments. Relationships entail a lot of compromise; humans get tired. While we may eventually agree in relationships, we have to be honest enough to let another person understand why certain qualities/actions are unacceptable to us (yes this is me rationalizing).

These days, I prefer to think of the song's voice as the sound of my old self telling me, "It's taken me a long time, I'm on your side, and I listen, now I'm listening..."

What I'm trying to say is, I'm old enough to realize that I do not need a reassuring voice to affirm me all the time. I think I shouldn't give that burden to anyone but myself. I do get lonely, I seek company and need friends, but when it comes to affirmation, I'm only as secure as I allow myself to be.

Accepting who I am, what I've done, and what I've become has taken me a long time. While I am most grateful for my family and friends who have stayed all this time, no amount of company or attention from other people can mend my relationship with me but myself.

"Il souffira."