Once a fella cared too much…

Those who don’t give a fuck once gave too many fucks about everything.

(The) Name’s Not At All Relevant

The Killing Cross

(Circa April 2016)

“The sound of my gun is my music.”

Perched unknown atop a tree
In a city turned rubbles, lost in the debris
White in the snow, ready to pounce
Concealed in the shadow, all set to trounce.

Clutched in my hands, my lifeline and friend
Ammos in check, scope and armor in perfect blend
It’s them or me, it ain’t a choice
My rifle – my unmuffled voice.

The hunter balks ever so patiently
Stalking the blind and unwitting prey
A couple of inch is all it takes
You’ll forever sleep in scattered bits.

The cross is forever etched in my vision
Resting on the temple, buried in the bosom
This is the world, all the world to me
The trigger’s your switch, concludes your destiny.

Never blink even for a split second
The scarlet dot’s in between your eyes
Or a crown, a tiny crimson one
The reaper’s scythe all set to smite.

Temple by temple, one click at a time
Like dominoes, inanimately turn grime
Chests popping, heads exploding
“It ain’t gonna be me, ain’t gonna be mine!”

Forgive me brother ‘tis not my will
It’s all for peace, for good to be still
You’re not evil, I’m neither saint
They’re waiting, my child and my girl, with hope not faint.

Now take a breath, take all you can
Don’t blink, be whist and be sober
Eyes wide open or shut real tight
One cock and pull, and it’s all over.

Forgive me if you’re all over…

The Return of the Crowd of Grumblers

 

“Maski mga di binaha nakipila tapos sila pa yung mareklamo.”

So went the post in our subdivision’s homeowners Facebook page referring to what happened during the distribution of relief goods through the local parish. Luckily, we’re in a certain part of the subdivision which was left untouched by floods due to the previous typhoon. For some reason, even our neighbors who were not directly affected by the calamity nor desperately in need of relief goods were present during the distribution and they were the ones being referred to as the grumblers.

I wondered why of all people present, those who were more fortunate were the ones who had the gall to grumble and behave as entitled brats instead of responsible adults.

Sure everyone has his/her own reasons why they were present in the queue. Perhaps their supplies at home were already low or they have financial difficulties. But the grumbling part, well, I don’t know how to make sense out of which.

One possible reason that I can think of is people expect equality over equity. Regardless of the situation and individual circumstances, everyone should receive equal items. That means anyone should receive the same grocery and relief items as everyone else. The severely affected could have been given something more and better if those who can still manage will yield for their less fortunate fellows.

Another plausible explanation is, because they may not have yet experienced how to be humbled by any experience, disaster or otherwise, in which you will consider everything given to you as a blessing and gratitude is the only fitting response.

It was only then that I fully understood what Pope Francis meant when he said giving is not enough. We also have to experience to be on the receiving end and that is to receive humbly and graciously from both God and people, with no grumbling involved.

Fuck The Soulmate Mentality!

Love with our significant other is like a heart-shaped jigsaw puzzle made up of two pieces. And due to the novelty of our experiences together, each puzzle piece have intricate, unique patterns that can fit perfectly to only one piece.

But what people fail to realize is that it’s not just a trial and error fitting spree. It involves the painful process of refining the edges, cutting an edge to accommodate the other piece, and extending some parts to fill the gaps of the other.

The interesting thing is, this gap that we’re trying to fill in order to piece together this puzzle, is dynamic. Such that, the patterns change in our lifetime and thus the process of cutting, welding, and grinding are perennial processes necessary to keep the love puzzle in perfect fit.

Moral of the story? FUCK THE SOULMATE MENTALITY!

Praise Aleluya!

“Jeez! What’s that word again?!”

A man is receiving instructions on how to navigate with his peculiar newly-bought horse.

“When you want it to move, say ‘Praise Aleluya!’ And to stop, say ‘Aamen’ got that?”

“Roger that,” said the man and shouted “praise aleluya” and got his horse galloping in no time.

“Aamen, Aamen,” the man said testing the “breaks” pulling the horse to a complete stop.

“Cool!” he muttered to himself.

And so the man, to his joy, traversed through the meadows with his horse lost in his thoughts about his good fortune, when he realized that he’s heading right straight to a 200-foot cliff.

Panic-stricken, the man desperately tried to remember the word for stop when suddenly he managed to shout “Aamen!” just in time for the horse to stop in it’s next step into the jagged rocks below.

“Whew!” cried the man in relief while holding high his right fist. “I know I count on You.

And I can never thank you enough Lord. PRAISE ALELUYA!!!”

See You On The Other Side, Jamir Garcia

You’re one of my role models on what it means to be a badass.

Dammit man, dammit!

I hope you will find peace, dammit Jamir, dammit!…

Boomer Journals 3 – Power Outages Expose the Buck Nakedness of Our Souls

A couple of predicaments we faced the morning after a hell of a night of a ferocious typhoon: the lack of water and electricity. It would have been manageable if at least the water supply was spared even if the power is out. The typhoon however, had been too kind not to take one without the other.

So we had no water and no electricity. That’s fine. At least the roof stayed intact despite the sustained strong winds, flood never made it inside the house and most importantly there’s food.

But of course one must not get stuck on either feeling sorry or overwhelming gratitude. You gotta get going because life must, well you know, go on.

No H2O

Thankfully we had more than enough drinking water so consequently, cooking isn’t going to be an issue. Except that you will need something to wash the dishes, the “kaserola” and the “kaldero“. And(!), to flush the pungent toilet bowl saturated with piss. Not to mention the dreaded instance when you have to answer an urgent call from nature.

The good news though was that our neighbors from the adjacent village offers potable water. The bad news is, it was 50 meters or so from our house and I have nothing but sheer muscle power.

I can’t help but remember my childhood when I used to fetch water from a pump well, pail by pail until the 150 liters container is filled including the “kambong” or “tapayan“, an earthen drinking water container.

“kambong” in Iloko and “tapayan” in TagalogAdd caption

Those required serious muscle moments as well.

While I seem to reminisce those memories with relish, those were unpleasant but necessary chores essential to maintain the balance of everyday living. But even if it was uncool, they taught me a lot about the nuts and bolts of existence. Those were instances where you don’t have a choice but to embrace the suck that comes with it and utter expletives inorder to let off steam.

There’s plenty of time to do that anyway, while hauling water from a distance. If there’s one thing you will be proud to rediscover about yourself and humanity in general, it is the fact that we are natural polyglots when it comes to the sweet science of swearing.

No electric current

My phone’s battery went dead so I couldn’t keep myself busy online to temporarily forget about our misery.

I don’t mind that I didn’t know what’s happening online. I can live with that anyway. And besides, there are more pressing issues such as having dinner before dark and getting ourselves ready for bed before sundown in order to extend the life of a lone candle up until 8:00 PM.

We have trees all around our small house so humidity is not an issue. Mosquitoes are but a minor annoyance as well, thanks to our “moskiteros” which also serve as balms to our feet.

It’s been years if not decades since I experienced days on end without electricity. But at least I have those past experiences to tap into so I knew exactly what to expect. The kids however do not have anything at all except this one, their first time.

It’s tough to see them lamenting about our predicament. But at least they now have their first ever experience of what it feels like without power.

Those two nights were dark and quiet with only a few lit candle sticks illuminating homes in our neighborhood. Not eerie though but peaceful. Flashbacks of farm life flooded my consciousness where we had to go to bed before 8:00 in the evening. I got used to it before that I can say I enjoyed the dark, the sound of crickets, the stories needed to get us drowsy, and the company of family.

Finally – and there was light

It took three days and two nights before power was restored. The water supply however took more than a week after to go back to normal.

The momentary absence of electricity and water supply can teach a lot about ourselves. Yes, the absence of our basic comforts can be a blessing if only show our nakedness. We are closer to our souls when our attachments which we often mistook as our main identity and the end all and be all of our being, are lifted off our shoulders. For some, power interruption is enough to get their souls buck naked. For others, it would take more than that to expose their nakedness.

And then there was light, finally.

My reflections borne out of blackout and interrupted water service served me well towards another illuminated outlook at life as well as a short-lived entertainment. But of course, along with everybody else, this boomer was glad the electricity was back!