The Tay-Tay of Literary World

Daisy Jones & The Six by Taylor Jenkins Reid
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Antagal bago ko natapos! I even attended a birthday party and talked about this book before I went on a slump. Reading a fiction in an oral history with all the characters written is a very tricky style, it dies the hype and the joy of just reading. It's different from plays, when the intent is speaking on a first-person POV. Oral histories shouldn't have even insertion of an author notes, it will somehow be converted as a dissertation.

At least that's how I felt with the gimmicky writing, a dissertation trying hard to be an oral history. That's why it became boring at the mid-part. It gets repetitive.

It's my first time reading Taylor Jenkins Reid, and I actually applaud her for fleshing out women characters in a setting filled with men. Rock-and-roll is about men and them dominating music in a rugged muddy and Americana style while taking drugs and alcohol and getting their high, before deciding to settle down. That's how the world was before— it was all about them. It also toned the character of Daisy being born out of burgis pribilej, being a prodigy with less effort because she wasn't thinking about rent or the money she will spend on what healthy food to eat. She has an access to a lot of things. And even so, she has to claw her way just to be recognized and seen.

I am still a bias of Jennifer Egan and Sally Rooney being the GenX and Millenial female writers, but maybe this Taylor thrives in the GenZ demographic, especially with her songwriting savviness and able to translate her book with all other forms of media. She was able to put content in Spotify and Amazon prime by merely rehashing her slam poetry into Americana-esque songs with the vibes of that Taylor's Folklore, and reaped tons of royalties and rights with it.

I am envious of the utility of her creations, and she is really a talented Zennial/GenZ writer. Looking forward to her other works, but lesser of the gimmick.

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Because of Netflix

White Noise by Don DeLillo
My rating: 2 of 5 stars

I just got through with this sarcism kineme and I somehow regret reading this because American sarcasm is not my strongest suit.

Also, I read this for the sake of appreciating Greta Gerwig's attempt to make this into a film. This book is know as a "treasure-trove-wonder" because this was a very difficult fiction to transcend (or translate?) into another media. Should I be watching Barbie first? Lols.

I admire the readers who do get to enjoy this Vonnegut bootleg (and even that latter writer, I don't appreciate. I do apologize.)

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Hormonal Woe

 Dearest K—,

I cried last night. 

I saw a video of a couple sitting on the beach with their director's chair and I messaged you actually requesting that we can do the same: just go to the beach and just sit using my director's chair that I bought for the guests. 

I haven't sit on the chair that I bought leisurely. I tried that once to test its durability. After that I just kept them under the cabinet and just pull them out when needed.

And I realized, yung mga ganitong hiling o simpleng ligaya na tatanga sa dagat kapag gusto eh hindi ko na magawa. Hindi ko rin magawa kasama ka. Hindi ko magawa nang mag-isa. Ano ba ang humahadlang? Bakit parang pati yung kagustuhang pagpungko at pagtunganga sa dagat eh kailangan pang ihiling? Why do I have to beg for such a simple pleasure?

And I realized hindi pala tayo katulad ng dati. Ang propesyon natin ay hindi tulad ng sa iba, at ang mga desisyon natin ang lumamon sa sistemang mahirap makahanap ng oras para sa simpleng ligaya. At dahil ayaw na ayaw ko ang nagmamakaawa, nainis ako sa sarili at naluha, at tuluyan na lang naiyak. 

Kailan ko kaya mararanasan ang simpleng hiling nang kasama ka? Mararanasan ko pa kaya? Siguro kay Lord ko na lang iaasa lahat ng bigat ng nararamdaman ko, kasama ng pagiging hormonal kasi magkakaron na ako.

Umiikot-ikot lang itong nararamdaman sa iyo. Galit, lungkot, saya, lungkot. 

Pero sa panahong lalong wala ka: lungkot, galit, lungkot, lungkot.

Dear Therapist

(Jotting this; I was planning to create a long writing material of my random conversations with the midnight therapist as I share my rants and realizations with the daily grind in the corporate and having only few moments. I used to talk to him during lunch breaks, while walking home, and even before falling asleep.)

---

Dear therapist, 

Bahay pa lang itong inaayos ko, pero ramdam ko na yata ang depresyon ng nanay ko nang inaalagaan kaming mga anak nya. Parati syang pagod, but she has to keep going. Naalala ko na hindi sya kinakausap ng tatay namin dahil busy sa graduate school, at busy rin sa pambababae, at busy na laitin ang nanay ko na walang alam sa tech at gadgets.

I never felt that isolation before, until this series of come and go, movements sa condo. Kung paano yung sukat, paano pagpantay. "Paki pantay naman ang laminate!" Paano yung grace under pressure, at lahat yun, wala kang ka-share.

Ang hanap ko na lang sa buhay minsan ay yung may ka-share ako ng struggling and thriving moments, yung sa pagtatapos ng araw, kahit antok na antok ka, may tatapik sa iyo (in a lover's way) and will tell you, "bukas, laban ulit." Ito yung mga moments na iniiyakan ko madalas sa pagtulog, kaya siguro hindi rin maganda ang tulog ko recently. Gets ko yung "meron namang iba jan", "laban lang", pero iba talaga kapag galawang jowa te. Mas may hugot, mas may pag-ibig. 

Charot ORAYT NALULUHA NA NAMAN AKONG EWAN HINDI KO NAMAN REGLA PERO HORMONAL AKONG EWAN

Feeling ko kapag si SG guy ang magsabi ng "goodjob" saken, maluluha na lang din ako, kasi naiconsider ko syang asawa before. Sobrang craving for a lover's touch ang nangyayari saken. But it will pass, sabi nga sa fleabag. So ayun.

Bayaran kita sa therapy mo hahahaha

(Dear Ella, 

First of all, pwede natin itong gawing podcast na ano?)

Bayad na! hahahaha

Four Years

Happy four years, dok. 

It has been four years since we first met. Ito yung mga panahong nanood tayo ng Aladdin, at nagvideoke sa Centerstage kahit isa't kalahating oras lang ang nai-enjoy.

Andami mong sinabi noon, mga pangakong nariyan ka lang. Magkukwento, makikinig. Pero lumipas ang apat na taon, nagkasakitan na tayo, at ngayon, parang convenient fuck lang ang lahat.

Sabi mo may nararamdaman ka pa sa akin. Poot kaya ang nararamdaman mo sa akin? Mas gusto mo kasing hindi magkwento kasi nasaktan na kita, takot kang masaktan ulit. 

Pero ano ang aasahan ko sa one-way communication? Ni kwento mo nga ngayong araw eh wala akong alam.

Kumusta ako? Ito, nagpapaka-fleabag. 

Remember the SG guy? We recently talked again. Last night. Gave me an advice to keep the drive. Naikwento ko kasi na pagod na ako, pero masigasig pa rin ako sa pag-aayos ng condo, kasi gusto ko by July 1, ready na lahat.

Sinasabi ko sa iyo ito kasi ito ang kulang na kulang sa iyo, ang makipag-usap. Hindi dahilan ang ka-busyhan mo sa pagdo-doktor dahil parang hindi mo nirespeto ang katulad mong may titulo at pinanghahawakang propesyon. Mas naiisip kong wala akong halaga sa iyo, lalo na at kapag tinatamaan ako ng kawalang-kumpyansa sa mga bagay.

May nararamdaman pa ba ako sa iyo? Meron man, pero pagkauhaw. Uhaw na uhaw sa presensiya mo. Sa hawak mo, sa boses mo, sa pagtitig mo.

Itutuloy ko pa ba itong pakikipaglandian sa iyo? Hindi ko rin alam, wala kasi akong napapala ngayong taon eh. Siguro sex. Sex lang? Siguro. Hindi ko alam. Siguro mga danas ng iyong pakikipagkita, pero mas marami ang danas ng iyong pagkawala. Hindi ko nga alam kung totoong busy ka eh, paano, wala kang sinasabi. Susubukan mo pa rin ba yung isang buwan na hindi ako kausapin? Eh para saan pa at nakipagkita ka sa akin?

Kailan ka lalabas sa kuweba mo, at kailan mo itatapat sa akin yang sakit na nararamdaman mo? Kung kelan mamamatay ka? Inuulit ko ha, hindi ko alam kung nasaan ka kung mamatay ka. Wala akong balita sa iyo, at wala akong kakilala na malapit mo sa buhay. Kaya kahit anong galit man yan na tungkol saken, itapat mo na. Tapos, ikaw na magtapos nito. Sinubukan kong tapusin, pero hinahanap ka ng katawan ko. 

Mas mabuti siguro na ikaw na ang tumapos. At least alam ko na sa dulo ng lahat ng ito, may closure. Baka nga closure lang talaga ang hanap ko sa iyo, at hindi ang pagbabalik sa kalbaryo.

I don't know if it's still right to say I love you but I do, 

Ella.

Dream Journal on a Tiring Tuesday

Weird dream.

I was in a girl group of agents — like Charlie's angels — and selling our services to spy a husband and give two options : kill without a trace, or full restoration of relationship via marriage counselling. So many conversations in between, most of those I have forgotten. Nagkunyari kaming real estate agents when I found a potential client na iniistalk ang asawa sa building. So what I did was to look for evidences to corroborate na nanloloko talaga ang asawa, before we roll the spiel — that selling point. 

So I went to a room acting as a maid like Maid in Manhattan and found a lipstick and a lingerie. And she was crying. When I suggested the services, she was conflicted. Told her we won't give her demands, and we can refer her to another agency who can give other "friendlier terms".  

I wasn't able to tell what she wanted, but she was in tears when she finally decided the terms. However, when we gave her the form, another agent gave me a NDA document and in it—I found the doctor's family home. 

Then I woke up with Timmie's cries to let him out of the bedroom, and I write this in haze before I go back to sleep. 

Orayt, goodnight!

Dear M

 Dear M—,

Naalala mo pa noong college, patay na patay ako sa iyo? Nag-confess ako sa iyo Friday night, tapos nag-break na tayo Monday night, sa may catwalk habang naulan nang malakas at maghihintay ito tumila, kasama ng mga tsismosa nating kabarkada? Sa sobrang lungkot ko, naisip ko bumili ng notebook, at magpalitan tayo ng mga liham sa isa't-isa, ipapahiram ito bawat gabi, at itinatala ang mga ginawa nating pag-aaral sa maghapon? Hindi ko naisip that it would be my writing style; ang naisip ko noon, gusto kitang makilala, kasama ng pagkilala ko sa mga riles ng PNR bilang main transport natin kapag sabay tayong uuwi after class. Kapag may pagkakataon akong sumabay sa iyo pauwi south-bound, isusugal ko ang oras ng commute at ng mahabang pasensya ng paghihintay sa second to the last trip to San Pedro, kung saan standing sa tren at kakarag-karag, mala-Home Along da Riles circa 2004.

Naalala lang kita nang magawi kami rito sa Albay at nakita ang mga riles na nababalot na ng carabao grass, o natatabunan ng aspalto sa National Road para sa sasakyan, at naisip kong sobrang bonak talaga ng mass transit sa Pinas. Hindi mo mae-enjoy ang magkakawatak at magkakalayong rancho at tourist spot ng Bicol region kung wala kang kotse. Malayong-malayo sa Japan kung saan bawat tourist spot eh may train station sa tabi.

Naisip rin kita nang makilala ko si J—. Galing rin sya sa school natin, pero team-dorm sya, hindi team-riles. Puru siya aral, at never nakasakay ng PNR, kaya ibang-iba ang kwentong promdi niya sa mabangis na lungsod. Nasa bansa na rin sya ng may effective bus transit at hyperinflated car prices kasi maliit ang lupain ng mala-NY na ASEAN nation. 'Kako sa kanya, ninais ko rin sumulat ng kwentong paglalakbay at pagkakaugnay — sa pamamagitan ng paggamit ng tren. Naalala ko na sinubukan ko yun noong college. Sinubukan ko sa iyo noon.

Parang tayong tren: mga riles ang nagdudugtong sa atin mula sa malalayo, riles din ang mahihiwalay sa atin kapag nasa gitna ito ng tawiran. It bridges the far distances to a close, and yet, we break away if we're too close. Gusto ko ring isulat ang kabalintunaan ng riles, katulad ng kalakhang maynila na napapalibutan ng balintunay: sa bawat barangay may solo-living sa mataas na condo na kapitbahay na class C at D na bahay na bato at lulan ang isang angkan. Parang tayo, na kahit anong pilit kong lumapit sa iyo noon, kapag hindi uukol, hindi bubukol. Ngayon tuloy, hirap kang igapang ang ipon mo sa mamahaling bilihin ng diaper at isasabay mo pa sa iyong hinuhulugang motor.

But that's another matter of irony. Hindi babagay sa balak kong isulat.

Na-enjoy ko ang Bicol, M. Kaya lang nalungkot ako kasi sa pag-enjoy ko, kailangan pa ng kaibigan kong humanap ng rent-a-car at puntahan ang mga lugar na may magandang view ng Mayon, at pwedeng picture-an pang-instagram. Kung hindi mo nalalaman, ang lakas ko maka-jeje sa social media. Gusto ko parati akong may picture sa travel ko, lalo na ngayong hindi ako masyado nakakapag-travel na. Kaya siguro hirap din sa pagsusulat, dahil hindi na masyado nakakapaglakbay. Adulting is so hard, I am faced with the challenges of purchasing furnitures and fixtures, that I sometimes losing contact with friends, and even losing sleep. Puru labas ang pera, pero para sa investment naman daw ang sabi nila. Parang sugal, para sa maalwal na pamumuhay.

Sana ganun din ang ating gobyerno, marunong sumugal para sa maalwal na pamumuhay ng mga tao. Kahit man lang sa mga bus na on-time, o sa mga LRT at MRT na dumarating na every two minutes sana. Pinakamaganda, ibalik nila ang long-distance rail transit mula Tayuman hanggang Bicol. Hindi yung puru San Pedro. Iabot na nila hanggang dito sa Albay. Better yet, get it done until Sorsogon. Para wala na akong dahilan bakit hindi ako makatawid ng Leyte. Ang probinsya ng tatay kong aning-aning na at hindi man lang death-ready ngayong matindi na ang sakit niya. Hay, nalulungkot ako na ang Pilipinas ay katulad ng tatay ko: lakas mangutang ng pera, pero hindi man lang maglaan sa kinabukasan. Hipak pa ng bisyo.

Sa pamamagitan ng kotseng hiram ay nakarating ako sa Green Hills ng Quitinday. Hindi ito shopping center oi, literal na berdeng burol na may kubo at matatanaw ang perfect cone kapag naiakyat mo ang lampas 100 steps assault. Eka nila, isang Congressman na raw ang bumili nito. Revoked ang ancestral domain. Wala man lang malasakit. Paano na kapag nagkaroon ng 100% ownership sa saligang batas? Hindi ako against sa ganung economic policy, pero kung hindi epektibo ang Tax Code nating circa 1977, paano natin masisingil ang mga panginoong maylupa, di ba? Hindi nga rin effective ang AMLA natin kasi andami paring naglalaba ng pera sa mga casino eh. Laba-pera habang nanonood ng Broadway. Ganun ang burgis way. Sometimes, free check-in for a patron. Oha, maging permanent resident ka lang ng sugalan para tuluy-tuloy ang money integrating. Hindi ko lang alam kung alam mo pa ang ibig kong sabihin; hindi ka na accountant, di ba? Nasa call center ka ng payables-receivables, kung saan mas nakaka-relate ka kung paano magsesettle ng mga credit card bills ng misis mo, kaka-hoard ng mga baby supplies sa Lazada kada buwan.

Sa dami ng gusto kong isulat kapag ako ay naglalakbay, hindi ko na maipili ano ang uunahin ko. Katulad ng paggamit ko sa notebook natin, parang dumpster lang ng mga iniisip ko ang notes app dito sa phone. Mas maganda ang tech ngayon, all of these are stored in a cloud. Hindi katulad ng notebook natin na nawawala na nang makita ni mama ito at itinambak sa kung saan, tapos ayun, Ondoy happened.

I just wanted to write about travel and connections and yet here we are: me trying again to connect to you via this epistolary exposition and you not knowing where I was and what I am doing. Kaya heto ako, nakahigang nagta-type habang tanaw ang mahiyaing Mayon.

So. Kumusta? 

Thank You, Bigolas Dickolas

This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

But when I think of you, I want to be alone together. I want to strive against and for. I want to live in contact. I want to be a context for you, and you for me.

I love you, and I love you, and I want to find out what that means together.

My, what a ride! I love the fact that they only used the scifi element as the backdrop, and really focusing on the letter exchange. Made me feel giddy sometimes, even though the motions of the time war made me confused a bit. There's shape shifting, time-jumping, competition and chase — and then there's taunt letters that turned into love exchanges.

Thanks to Bigolas Dickolas Wolfwood and his insane twitter traction that made me curious to this book. And it's like what Honey said, the best way to sell a book is to have that one reader fully ingesting its content, and fully blasting his/her raves and heartfelt sentiments. Thanks to this book, I am back on the reading groove.

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Prayers for the Unresolved

I am this close to unblocking him and actually offering him a fuck-buddy-relapse-pseudo-jowa. But then I was thinking of the precious beginnings we have had and the subsequent abandoned moments and the disrespectful antics towards our previous romance. I am not sure if prayers helped to get through with these interludes, but sometimes, ngl, I cry myself to sleep because I do wish that this festering desire to be kissed and touched will go away. 

Please pray for a stronger resolve.

Sometimes I call this as a craving. And I do think this is a valid, yet insatiable need. I don't watch romcoms, no more of the kdramas, not even porn. Just to get out of this system. But even those random taps of my workmates, I shoo them away. Because I might break down of frustration. 

Staying in condo helped. I just open the balcony and hear the white noise of the manic traffic in c5, languishing the motivation to stay awake, and deciding to sleep on the floor even with the Manila heat and the absence of AC in the unit. 

Hours later after I wake up, sometimes it goes away. Oftentimes though, it lingers in the farthest corner of my mind.

Sometimes I think I became unlucky, looking for summer romance of sorts. I mean, what's the meaning of it all — making the first move on bumble. And then they offer to drink beer at the first meeting? What about having actual food and actual coffee or even a glass of water? Are wholesome activities already dead in the field of online dating? That is so sad and frustrating. 

And before getting to the sleight of hand — to address that craving — I still have to put my best foot forward. And yet, men are really intimidated on how I say things, or even tell candidly on the things that matter.

Hays. I do apologize for all these lashing out to you in the wee hours of morn, and I sometimes I tell myself that I was abusing you as a friend. I might need to pay you for being a quasi-therapist. Just because the midnight therapist is away on a holiday. I guess he is tired of me saying all these, too. 

But again, thank you for all the patience and for just reading these messages, even they are going in circles like my thought process on things. 

So. There.

Limewash

 20 April 2023

Dearest K,

Kumusta? After a long month of not communicating with you (in any way, btw), here I was, thinking of you while I was finishing up my DIY Project. I completed my accent wall today! Sure, there were naps and trashtalking and introspections in between, but painting seems to be therapeutic. It kept me grounded and present, always checking that the primer and the limewash paint will not harden; the continuous stirring and the conscious dipping of the brush makes it more of a task handed to be done. The repeated strokes are also meditative and measurable. The activity was predictable. I hope in time, like painting, we were able to meditate whatever happened in our lives in the past days, get the task on hand done, and feel proud of whatever we did. And also, to share it with someone who mattered.

Today, you do matter.

E