Memory in Cascades

You remember the year
a boy tried to keep you
alive without knowing
that was what he did

You remember talking to death.
Talking till silence was all
the peace you needed

You remember telling him
things you would never tell
anyone till this day

You remember him sit still
knowing your presence was enough

You remember the days
you waited to see him,
wanting more time. Or was it
for time to stop?

You remember taking
as many photographs as you could

You remember listening
to each other's music;
giving each other
the memory of your songs

You remember trying
to memorize his face

You remember holding
his hand when he reaches for yours

You remember hurting
and hiding the hurt
when he was in pain

You remember
how much he meant
to you

You remember
not saying a word
about it

You remember knowing,
knowing he felt the same,
though he never said it,
you never said it,
face-to-face

You remember he could not
love you back
the way you needed

You remember holding yourself
together, knowing it could not last
You could not last

You remember the day
you decided you could
no longer stay,
telling yourself to forget

You remember your happiness
flaming his misery

You remember these
as one of the best days
of your life

You remember it existed,
something you will never have
again--it existed.

You remember it's better
to actually live
than to just survive
day after day

You remember thinking
Agape is a lie; you die
with the unbearable knowledge
of being unloved

You remember
not saying a word

You remember how painful
it was to finally leave

You remember
not saying a word

You remember writing his name
on a page because you dread the thought
of slowly forgetting him

You remember
not saying a word

You remember hating the nights
wishing you never met him,
wondering if it's possible
to forget

You remember
not saying a word

You remember feeling angry
but not wanting to admit anger

You remember
not saying a word

You remember
to inflict pain
with your absence

You remember
to forget

You remember the memory
leaving. When pain was
the only thing left of him.

You remember finding the page
years later, tearing the proof apart,
angry that you recall everything

You remember
not saying a word...

But you remember writing it
in a letter. Sending it one night.

And you remember
the replies.

You remember now:
you should have been kinder
to yourself.

You remember to stop
hurting.

You remember
and the past catches up.

You remember to give
back to yourself.

You remember sunsets
You remember quiet afternoons in fields
You remember dreaming while awake
You remember to have a future
You remember to find your heart
You remember to go to the ocean
You remember how to sleep
You remember peace
You remember love
You remember being who you are
You remember being yourself
You remember
yourself.

Wet Wet Wet Round# 4

For the final round, Riley and Shirl went ahead so there's just three of us trying to fill-out the blank page. And so, this is how we concluded our Spazzio evening. 

Below is a transcribed version of our drunken free writing activity.

The necessary form of release-- Eh, ano ngayon? This is NOT poetry!

You can also click on the audio to listen to this glorious garb of gibberish.

Round 4 07262011 Spazzio - JOV by Amber_Light


Round #4, 1st line by Cor – read by Jov

I’ve been creeping in crevices
beneath your head, where
is your soul? Not beneath
my heart but throughout my life which
is where I have expressed myself in
whole. Where do I get out?
The same crevices where
I crept in? Or do I
stay? Can I wait for
something? Always, you
and I will find something.
Anything. Enough that it
will suffice for the short
lives that we were meant
to live. And so I ask,
do you dare to stay?

Stay there? When you could
find other creeks and cracks in which
you could live a life so unexpectant.
You’ll never know what’ll come next.
Take the risk, enjoy the journey
on the path you walk. Live the
dream.
Live the dream. Even at
times they turn into night-
mares. The important thing
is, you wake up. Sooner
or later.
Wait just enough for the
change you need, want,
live for, to occur. Nobody
said you shouldn’t, you
have a choice. We must
live, it is not enough
to survive a menial
existence. All you have to do
is strive. Strive on that energy
a life support line… but what
if it runs out? You’ll never
know when it’ll strike until that
last moment. Then you’ll realize
that what you have lived was
more than just a life. It’s
a memory embedded in your
dead mind and living on in
the memory of others. You’re
a part of something more.
You’ve slowly helped the world
become what it is today.
Complete the uninspired.
Put a period to what is
hanging. Stop what lingers.
Live. But know when to
halt thy breath and
rest.

Cor, Shane, Jov

(Jov read, hoo-raaaah! Can't believe we did all this in one night. All this mental literary diarrhea on four pages. I felt so light coming home. Thank you (ala Natalie Portaman. lol.) Cheers to the night we felt alive.)

Spazzio July 26, 2011

Wet Wet Wet Round# 3

Below is a transcribed version of our drunken free writing activity.
The necessary form of release-- Eh, ano ngayon? This is NOT poetry!

You can also click on the audio to listen to this glorious garb of gibberish.

Round 3 07262011 Spazzio - SHANE by Amber_Light


Round #3, 1st line by Riley – read by Shane

It is not the best nor the worst of times.
I never said I’d bring the flowers. And
please, don’t call me ‘Ishmael’. I am merely
black ink on a tide of salty volume.
This is not the ocean
either. Nor is this the mountains.
This is just space—with
all the textures, with all
the flavors. With all the
“ifs”. Vast and undefined,
like the soft lines of your
palms, the curb of your
brows, the air that we breathe.
There is solace in all things
unnamed. I love the uncertainty
and utterance you bring forth
amidst all this static. But who
knows if we’re not far from the end.
From what we have heard, we’re not
far away, with every day… now I pray.
I confess to all the wrong I have done
and at the same time hope to see
the morning sun. For us, life as
we know it might be coming to an
end. I trust myself enough that
I won’t bend. I still want to
cherish every moment, as much as
I have unnoticeably lived by Shakespeare’s
every sonnet. As much as I love to
live, even just to give. I’ve learn’t
to love everybody as if they were
my own kid.

Ah! I know. I am cigarettes. Yeah, cigarettes. Or that awkward moment when a guy knocks on the men’s room door when you’re taking a leak. Yeah. Yeah. That.

                                                  _________This is not text on top of a line.___

Leaking. Licking. Lacking.
After that what?
Bad wet fucking?
Again I start,
depth-devoid logic,
shallow reasoning.
Meta my fuckin’
arse, I’m stickin’.
To all this graphic, sporadic,
to cadence. I create my own
world, exist in my mind, em-
brace my human mecha-
nism, acknowledge frailty.
It is necessary to deal with such
things: our complacence,
the final thought which haunts
us before sleeping. But still I
dream. Dream of a time where
there were no problems only
imaginary completeness. Nor
a problem in the world, just
happiness. Just love.
          If I were corporeal, even at least,
even if my ink were to sink, if I
were a whole, a shell to house my
memory, would it all change? Would
I sink or swim? Would my words dance
on the page or would they simply
bubble up the surface?


Riley, Jov, Cor, Shane


(Shane had to cuss by the time he read my part because my penmanship was growing harder by the hour to decipher. I'm sorry, dude. I blame it all on the Red Horse. Thanks for trying to read this though.)

Spazzio July 26, 2011

Wet Wet Wet Round# 2

 Below is a transcribed version of our drunken free writing activity.
The necessary form of release-- Eh, ano ngayon? This is NOT poetry!

You can also click on the audio to listen to this glorious garb of gibberish.

Round 2 07262011 Spazzio - COR by Amber_Light



Round #2, 1st line by Shane – read by Cor

I see a car at my feet.
Silently begging for scrap to eat
I give him a shroom and as
he swallows he starts to swoon.
reminds me of the world today.
Is this really why we live, just
to stay?

            And then there’s this chef wanting
to optimize his time in cooking. A lot
of tasks, a lot of recipes. Given the dish
on the stove & the list of dishes
that are in line to be cooked, what
dish should be cooked next?

            Sex.
Like orgasms mixed? Like
orgasms fakely fixed? I need
a good dish. I’m starving.
Foreplay is it? Like cutting
onions while you weep?
Wail in pleasure. Moan in great
Rapture for something new.
Unanticipated, unfamiliar,
UNSCATHED. Serve me
the purest dish you can muster
and I will consume it up to
the last piece. Make me
glad.
and the reward I shall grant
will be of the highest. Not
me, or my virginity. Something
more pure, but my whole true
love. For you to do with as
you wish. It may be something
as "malansa" as would be fish
but so full of flavor. It would
be more than what you could
ever wish.
           Today was a rainy day
Many cats are playing
Many cocks are
Fighting.1

            Fighting to get to the
same hour first. As if
the minutes don’t matter.
As if the seconds are
mere adjectives in a purple
prose—a purple prose that
doesn’t last. A feverish
one which inflicts. You may recover,
forget, feign robust enlightenment.
This I give you: clean air, space for
you to connect. But as you grow
older and connect, you learn. You
realize you’re lonely for more than just you
but others
too.


Shane, Shirl, Riley, Jov, Cor
________________________________
1 This is a footnote.
[[In the sense of conflict?]]


Spazzio July 26, 2011

Awfully Wet Wet Wet Tuesday

We all ended up at Spazzio due to the frustratingly erratic stormy Tuesday of July 26, 2011.
x – classes
x – work
x – Cinemalaya
CHECK!!! – beer

And the afternoon’s winning lines were:

Deelaytful Riley on his play, Six Boys and a Slut
“And in the end, all the boys didn’t care that she didn’t come.”

Shirl opening up about her high school daze with Riley (as Riley feigns ignorance)
“Nagtanung ka kaya kung pwede mo ‘ko ligawan!”

Jov to Riley while waiting for SRO tickets to watch Cinemalaya films
“Papapasukin ba tayo sa Septick Tank?”

Cor dipping every pulutan in ultra-spicy soy chili-mansi sauce prepared by Shane
“I can’t feel my tongue. I can’t feel my tongue.” (Hala sige, saw-saw pa!)

Shane after coming from the men’s room, telling Cor and Jov
“Na-realize ko may sili pala sa batok ko. Tapos, nag-CR ako. May sili pa pala yung kamay ko.” xD

Below is a transcribed version of our drunken free writing activity.

The necessary form of release-- Eh, ano ngayon? This is NOT poetry!

You can also click on the audio to listen to this glorious garb of gibberish.

Round 1 07262011 Spazzio - RILEY by Amber_Light



Round# 1, 1st line by Jov – read by Riley

Today is like one bad wet fuck.
It’s slippery as hell, but every time
I think I’ll make it, I never come.
The cigarettes are never enough,
do you give a damn?
But all’s well ends well they say.
Even though I have not seen that
happy ending, I’m sure that short
slip will bring me into a state
of sudden realization. A realization
I’m not yet ready to see, a realization
that is full of pretention.

I want to shout out to the old dog,
jump off the trapeze, pull the
plug that connects love and death.
Dumb old dog, had his neck caught by the plug
during the plunge. Dumb
old dog doesn’t fall, he
just hangs. The way snagged
sparrows hang on cables, the way
the child hangs on the cliff
when the catcher in the rye
fails to save him. We hang on
strings that can get cut at
any moment. I like hanging-
out in the goddamn mall.

Can’t sleep can’t eat can’t talk can’t walk
Just think and drink and smoke and
shot. Go out at night never in the
day to spend all the cash I’ve worked
so hard to gain. I can’t clearly see
while I still live. The only reason
-- the love I give. For the depth
of my heart can run so deep. You
can sometimes see hell coz that
cliff is so steep. But from
hell when you look high above
you’ll always spot where I
safe keep your love. Whether
for me it means life of death
please think with your heart, and
not with your head.

             I’ve been trying for so long to get your attention, trying
so hard hoping you’d accept me. But despite you close your door
for me. I’d still be here. I won’t fight. I’ll just stick around
coz I know we’ll soon be together, maybe next year,
the other year or the afterlife.

Alas, no. Oh, alas, oh no.
Alas, yes. Socks still wet,
hair still drips. Let me
start again, today is like
a bad fuck –
all wet. All sweat nothing
more nothing less.
All is lost, we all examine the
mess. Still that door will be there
where I will linger. Hang. Rest.
Ruminate. Because there is nothing
more.

Jov, Cor, Shane, Shirl, and Riley


***

I just listened to / read this madness we gave birth to. What a day. Frustrated much? 

I will post the next 3 rounds of our free writing madness with its corresponding audio. It will be great to laugh over this years later. Thanks for making this terrible terrible day alright. 

Cheers to more nights we'll feel alive!