Thursday, June 16, 2011


“We’re not going out here until we've managed to write something decent,” I told myself sternly. The sun peeks behind the dark clouds and the open window allowed the entry of some cold wet breeze. Perfect, I’d say. There was no internet connection in my room (you have to go down to the lobby for wi-fi) which means no distractions from whatever site that might drag me to some ridiculous conversation which includes the use of some ridiculous words like “vagrancy,” “effervescent,” and “communicable.”

I’ve been blaming the weather for my inability to summon metaphors or even simple paragraphs lately. The heat irritates me. Cold makes me weak.

This might count as hiding though I prefer it called “self-exile,” like what I did last year for my birthday when I left the planet without any contacts or suicide note. I spent my days traipsing the roads of Tagaytay only to retire at night in some cheap apartelle drinking vodka. And now, together with me in this hotel room, my luggage which includes two change of underwear (I’m in full commando most of the times, even as I go out and check the sky or play race with the waves) my laptop and a dozen grammar guide books to doctor my rambling sentences, I will try and challenge Sigmund Freud.

[It’s nostalgic too. Last time I was here, dengue symptoms pinned me down inside my room. The mere memory of it gives me the same chill.]

It’s insane how I wanted to be a writer. I remember my good friend Edward. Between us, he is the real writer. We’re the perfect duo, people would say. Edward, the prolific writer, and me, his procrastinating director. He’ll tell you how it is and I’ll show you how it is. He’s fantastic with words and his connection with the subject is always profound. I thought I’m best behind the camera. That’s how we always worked and always with satisfying end result.

But all these are lies. I locked myself inside this room and ran away from everyone not to write, but to actually realign my purpose, to once again gather my emotions and to feel “effervescent” and know that at least I’m still breathing.

Although, realigning is not really realigning. I’m so used to “vagrancy” that peace and order feels like a “communicable” disease consuming me largely day by day which makes me want to vomit. I hate it. I’m void with emotions and happy was not enough to fire up the snoring cells of my hand and mouth. I thought “effervescent” is happy but the unsolicited visits of housekeeping during my orgasmic epiphanies tell me otherwise.

I remember how I so arrogantly left the world of television production to avail the peace and simplicity I always dreamed of. When at 2 ‘o clock in the morning I feed on some sleepy actor his lines and where 30 men work on a set-up to make it look and feel like at screaming high noon. Now I wonder if I still want that kind of peace.

Spread eagle, lying on my bed, still in full commando, I wonder if I can really write, my plans on taking immortality through writing a book and making a film. I thought about retreating in Ilocos and build there my dream rest house with a picket fence and a tomato garden and just forget about the lustful city. I thought about my music, a family of my own someday in the future and Devon, my cactus that sits patiently in my room.

Two days more and I will leave with few promises on my pocket. That I will get more inspiration even it means being petrified by love for the nth time, have my heart shattered into gazillion pieces and attempt to consume a mouthful of silver cleaning solution. That I will study harder, read more books and act out my age, more. Finally, find better, other jobs maybe, which pay could land me my dream rest house in Ilocos, produce my very own film someday, publish my written memoirs and shun me away from potential suicides and temptations of insanity that writing and life bring.

15 reaction(s):

Leah said...

Ang lalim. di ko naintindihan ang ilang words. hehe.. nosebleed. *sniff *tissue

Minsan, gusto ko rin mag disappear sa world. lol.. kahit ilang days lang.. Yes, "self-exile" would be the right word... have some ME time.. to think about things, to reflect..

Pero ewan, parang malabo yata. tsk. Kasi...

basta.. ewan.. kumplikado rin ang buhay ko. hehe..

You name your cactus Devon? Nice. Love the picture. Relax na relax ka...

^travis said...

"my dream rest house with a picket fence and a tomato garden...' <-an idyllic countryside retreat.

ako, gusto ko dun sa malamig, may strawberries, peanut brittle at ukay-ukay. lols

orally said...

This entry is so sexy methinks. The pictures you post here, are they all self portraits? Happy birthday DB, and just like your smaller twin brother, you too write very well. Cheers!

^travis said...

They say "that a birthday is just the first day of another 365-day journey around the sun." Well I hope that you enjoy the trip. Happy birthday, DB!

Juan der Last said...

I just realized that I've never been away from home on my birthday. Maybe it's time to start a tradition?

In case I don't catch you again in time, happy birthday DB! Sending you Good Vibes!

Spiral Prince said...

Don't forgot to look for answers to the questions you have in your exile. Make them if you cannot find them. :)

Désolé Boy said...

Leah - Naku, please don't say I used "maka-nose bleeding words." I'm not that kind of "writer," hehe. I try to stay away from highfalutin words. Anyway, whatever it is you're undergoing I sure hope you can make your way through it. And yeah, Devon is my cactus. I'll introduce him here one day if I can find the words on romanticizing a cactus. Thanks ;D
Travis - I'm enjoying the solitude. And yeah, I always dream of a tomato garden of my own. Was it really that countryside-ish? Haha. Anyway, it's a few more days before my birthday. But thank you [for the greeting and for stopping by here.]
Bien - Me? Sexy? Hahaha. Thank you. And to answer your question, yes, most pictures I post here are self-portrait thanks to my rusting camera tripod. ;D
Papa Jay - Why not? Or you can hit the road and just drive wherever a "full tank" could bring you. Please tag me along. Road trip! Road trip! Haha. Thanks for always droppin' by. ;D
Spiral Prince - I will. I will. Thank you. ;D

dabo said...

"It’s insane how I wanted to be a writer."

Arent't they all, sir?

Then after you did become one, you'll find out that it was the world that was really mad and you're the only sane person.

Peter said...

Not Freud but Sarte. Existentialist post!

Désolé Boy said...

Dabo - I can't wait for that moment to arrive. It's great to have you here sir. An honor if I must say. You write good materials in your blog. Thanks for droppin' by.
Peter - Sarte indeed! I just simply hate Freud hence his name being mentioned here. I thought, maybe this inclination to existentialism is brought upon by another year that would add up to my age. Maybe. Thank you ;D

Viktor Saudad said...

I'd like to retreat to ilocos too...
hideaway kumbaga. *sighs*

shenanigans said...


anu daw?


the green breaker said...

You know what, I think I should rename to Desolate Green Breaker. I enjoy separation like you do. lol #justkidding

i dunno when your day is, but happy birthday desole boy. :)

Désolé Boy said...

Victor Saudad - Maawatan ti Ilocano? Hehe
Russ - Ouch! Hindi mo talaga nakuha ang point ko? That's sad for a writer.
Green Breaker - If you do that it would appear like we're married coz you're taking my name with you. Haha. Just kidding. You'll know when's my day. A few more days from now. Thanks ;D

Cinderella said...

And this entry sealed my day. Good night.


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