Bañamos 2025

May mga fireworks habang sinusulat ito. May tugtugan sa may dating munisipyo, sa may dalampasigan, doon mismo kung saan kami binakunahan sa panahon ng mga lockdown. Kaninang umaga, nililinis na nila ang grove. 

Nasa pagitan tayo ng anibersaryo ng paglagda at pag-anunsyo ng Batas Militar (ika-21 at 23 ng Setyembre, 1972). Nagsindi ng kandila ang aking mahal na editor sa kanyang hapag-kainan sa Cavite bilang biktima at kaibigan ng mga biktima. Sinusubukan kong magsulat, ngunit...

Maigsing selebrasyon ang saglit na pakikipagkita sa aking kaibigan at sa kanyang asawa (at may kurot pa rin talaga ang kaligiran) bitbit ang mga regalong aklat ng aming tinitingalang guro. Nakilala nila si misis at ang dalawang bunso. Iilang minuto lang ito, hindi na kami nakaupo, pero naikuwento pa ang naganap na pambubudol. Magdadalawang dekada na rin nang huli kaming magkita nang personal. Kung hindi ako nagkakamali, sa kasal ito ng kaibigang yumao kamakailan, si Jun Sungkit. Tinulaan ko ang mag-asawa noon, “Dalawa” ang pamagat, at baka una ko itong pabigkas na tula. Wala akong kopya nito.

Ikinagagalak ko ring makatanggap ng tula sa DM mula sa isang hinahangaang makata. May eksibit ang aking kapatid sa Italya. Ilan lang ang mga ito, kung tutuusin, sa mga bagay na kailangang ipagpasalamat. Na lagi’t laging kabugkos ng mga kalunos-lunos na bagay. Halimbawa rin siguro ng ganito ang mga pulitikal/di-pulitikal na ganap sa pista ng Peñafrancia.

Bukas may transport strike. May mga abiso na ng walang pasok para sa ilang eskuwela ng Maynila at Cavite. Kami naman ay maaga-agang awas, ayon sa Malakanyang:

Hindi (pa?) para talikuran ang mga pagdiriwang. Kailangan ang ligaya kahit pinaliligiran at nagmumula sa mga tinakot, piniit, at pinagdusa. Kung nais harapin at himayin ang salimuot, tara! Kung hindi kaya sa ngayon, oks, pahinga muna. Piliin lang ang masasayang misteryo... o ang malulungkot na misteryo, alinman ang mas napakikiramdamang totoo sa kasalukuyan.  

Maligo sa kalye at/o magsindi ng kandila.

Pandan Scarecrow

Night had begun parading its tinier sounds, all of them, save for ache and water, and other people. The gecko hinted at the repeat of rain, would not commit however. How was lunch with him around? Close: toys strung up, the mess I will miss, that one smelly mask. The youngest fears it, wondering maybe what had been done wrong, or how to earn a father less given to pranks. If a fork drops in the forest and nothing is wounded, are we still hungry? How about being in it, little one, the inside of its lips on the outside of yours, the taste of various milk teeth? How suddenly we burped into song. Hinting, again. We’ve come a long way from the typewriter . . . but coming now, down to your feet, down to tracing these bones of your feet.

Cloth of Air

A Guide to the Filipino Overseas

The Wear of Needs is a collection of shirts. It seems to me an art exhibit in progress, for the pieces in it were composed as aesthetic responses to the countries that the designer had visited. In the past decade, Mae Aguinaldo—the artist, my sister—had gone to Indonesia, India, Malaysia, and Singapore for the purpose of imbibing the specificities of their cultures, the byways of their craft. Of the series, she has this to say: “The T-shirt is both an object of desire and practicality, a duality that is constantly at play in the series. It is the canvas for The Wear of Needs.  It is common and familiar, and anyone can wear it.”

I wish to discuss the particular shirt Mae had sewn in response to the Philippines, the one she named “seasons change,” for the following reasons:

a) she said it was “inspired by the resiliency of Filipinos”

b) it systematically approaches home with external (or externalized) lenses, and

c) the family helped launch the shirt at the Freedom Park, one drizzling Saturday morning, with red yarn and 67 balloons.

*

*

Continued below, courtesy of Center for Art and Thought: