Monday, July 27, 2009


I have been reduced to one big wet and whimpering sob with these two songs I've recently discovered.

Old classics.

Songs that tell of old heart breaking emotions.

Makes one remember old wounds.

Michael Crawford sings the song TELL ME ON A SUNDAY from the Andrew Lloyd Weber musical in a 1990 episode of the Johnny Carson Show.

Here is an old song the real meaning of which I only knew through this video of Judi Dench explaining how it came about and the context to which it belongs.

A very, angry hurt song about being misled.

I think I need to open my windows and breathe again.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009


KAPANAHUNANpen and ink on acid-free paper
305 x 485 mm.

“I am going to San Fernando tonight. Nuqui’s there. I need him,” I heard Malou’s crackling voice over the phone when I picked up the receiver on that rainy night while I was busy with my books for the final exams.

“What the…? Malou, are you stupid??! You’re near bursting and you’re going to fly off to follow a guy who doesn’t even give a damn about you??!” I was near screaming at her when I realized the utter senselessness of her statement.

“It’s just your hormones acting up. For Pete’s sakes, you’re pregnant. Just stay at home. Alright? Tomorrow, I’ll meet you after my exam. Let’s have lunch. My treat," I sternly told her.

“Okay. Promise,” she said.


The next day, I met her at the College of Education after my exam. She waddled out of her classroom like a swollen duck. She would make the perfect image of a young pregnant woman – healthy, robust with life and full of energy, books in her arms and the unmistakable sureness in her steps. She is, at eighteen, a single mother.

“Damn that Nuqui. I heard from his sister last night that he’s in San Fernando to be with his friends – to celebrate a birthday. Would you believe that?? Dan, I need him. I am about to bear a child and he’s nowhere,” she prattled with her words as she took my arm while we walked through the college corridor to go to the Casaa canteen.

“But you pretty well know that he’s already abandoned you. What else do you expect from a good-for-nothing creep who bumped you and made you look like a balloon? Come on. Stop living in a fairy tale. Like it or not, you’re going to have that baby without him,” I told her as I helped her go down the college steps to cross to the next building. As I look to the left for any approaching vehicle as we cross the street, I felt her grip tighten on my arm.

“Ow, you’re hurting my arm. Stop squeezing too much,” I hissed at her.

“Dan. I think it’s time,” she said.

“Time for what?” I snapped back at her, annoyed at the tightness of her grip and having stopped in the middle of the road.

“My water…. just burst…?” she said as she gasped between her words.

I glanced at her as we stood in the middle of the street. I noticed her thighs and the piece of asphalt she stood on were wet. “Oh God! You’re gross. You peed,” I gasped.

She slapped me and yelled, “Idiot! I am giving birth.”


I looked through the glass window of the nursery and spied the little bundle in swaddling clothes. Wrinkled, eyes closed, a little dark and a little pink, I could hardly believe that this tiny creature came from her.

Mommy Beth, Malou’s mother, was beside herself as we both looked at the infant.

“Isn’t my grandson so cute? He’ll grow up to be strong and handsome,” she proudly declared. I touched my face to feel the lump on my cheek caused by Malou’s slapping and wondered how much strength her son will have when he grows up.

“What did Malou tell you his name would be?” Mommy Beth asked me.

“Alf,” I said.

“Is that short for Alfred or Alfredo,” she turned and looked at me.

“No Mommy Beth, just Alf,” I assured her. I didn’t have the courage to tell her that not only is her first grandson named after a puppet in an American comedy show on TV but it really stands for Alien Life Form.

“Well, at least it will be easy to spell on the child’s birth certificate,” she said as she looked back towards the nursery window and goo-goo at her grandchild.

Wednesday, July 8, 2009

WHAT IT MEANS... come out. A Pinoy's way of "coming out of the closet".

It's a bit late but pwede na rin... maybe for next year. :-)

---------------- be Pinoy. And it's really cool to be one. Rock on!