I Love You Etcetera Etcetera

I love you etcetera, etcetera
My heart is yada-yada-yada
Forevermore blah, blah, blah
Really, I just want to say I love you

All of that’s a chip off the old block
In simple words, “been there, done that”
But becase my love for you runs deep
Now, I can’t find the right words to describe it

So forgive me, these words are lackluster
Next time, I’ll find ways to be more clever
But to be completely honest, who am I kidding?
I know you will still appreciate it anyway

Because you’re the best, the sweetest
You light up everything in my world
You make me happy, my life worth living
So thank you, I love you, etcetera, etcetera

How’s Your Holiday

A season of giving and drunken cheers
The culmination of a tumultuous year
For celebrations and stale leftovers
For kind hearts and cringey grandstanders

For some, it’s an extension of grief
A season to remind of loved ones lost
Of broken homes and toppled houses
Of dimming lights and empty expressions

Holidays — for us, a week of excess
A season of survival for the rest

Trails of Blood and Piss

I’m stuck in this loop
Tired, heavy-hearted
Slowly going crazy
Weakened by deceit and cruelty

Nighttime comes too early
My gas has gone empty
Can’t set anything alight
There’re dead bodies, left and right

I need to stay awake
Be on the lookout
For a long trace of blood and stride
That they have pissed on in plain sight

However, my knees crack
Strength snatched by those in the tracks
By the ones out to hide the truth
The demons we need to put on mute

Livid, sad

I am livid
I am sad
The world is grieving
But evil goes on

Death by bullets and neglect
By a state that drowns in bloodlust
As if the pandemic isn’t out to kill
Greed and violence remain strong still

4/7/20: Petty B

Journal Entry No. 5

I wasn’t planning on publishing an entry tonight, but the appearance of the supermoon in the sky has inspired me to write.

The government officially announced today the extension of the lockdown until April 30. The spread of Covid-19 is not waning: the number of cases in the country is nearing 4,000, and there are more deaths than recoveries. Last night at a press conference, the president revealed that the money for the economic relief that should support indigent Filipino families while we are under a lockdown can probably only last for the next two months.

As a middle class citizen, I feel guilty for having privileges that I wish I could share with the marginalized members of our society. I do donate to charity drives, but still. There’s a certain degree of uneasiness that I feel for getting used to a routine that I developed the past few weeks: working from home, exercising in the afternoon, and one night a week, videoconferencing with friends while we drink booze.

Three days ago, my petty bourgeoisie ass started making coffee liqueur: a mix of hot water, Italian liqueur (28% alcohol), creamer, sugar, and coffee powder. Since the first cup that I made tasted good, the idea of making this a part of my routine got me excited.

But after giving it some serious thought, I now weep for how the narrative of my existential crisis has to stumble upon the fact that coffee liqueur (I feel so pretentious even typing this fucking word) has become some sort of my moral booster in a time of a coronavirus pandemic, while many people in my country barely have any food to eat. 

End of entry

3/23/20: Cozy + The Gambler

Journal Entry No. 4

I turned our open garage into my workspace today. The dry season has started, and I decided to move outside because my sweat kept on dripping onto our couch because it was so hot. I didn’t want to continue trashing it and be scolded by my mother.

I set up my laptop at a blue, round table, and a China-made speaker under it. While working, I wanted to put on blast my Spotify playlist, titled “Soul on Fire,” which I curated months ago. I regularly listened to its track list on my way to work before the pandemic erupted. The playlist is made up of songs from artists from the soul and blues genre or whose songs are infused with blues or soul stylings.

Hours later, it became apparent that this setup had allowed me to be at my most productive since I started working from home. It was cozy, and the landscape of trees and shrubs was a refreshing sight. Despite all the crazy, distracting stuff happening in the world, I felt pretty pleased with myself.

When my shift ended, I played “The Gamber” by Kenny Rogers, who passed away the other day. I grew up listening to Rogers because my parents always played his records when I was little. However, I first heard of “The Gambler” only in December 2019 when I went to San Francisco, California, for work. On my first night there, I went to a blues bar where a band played the song and almost everyone in the bar was singing along. Hearing the band perform the beautifully written lyrics and the foot-stomping melody of the song deeply moved me. What crept into me was even better than the sensation I feel whenever I watch my favorite local drag queens perform at Obar, Ortigas.

Anyway, it felt right to play the song at the end of my shift. As a celebration for a productive day, and for Rogers’ remarkable work that has served as a soundtrack to the many special moments of my life.

P.S.

I recorded a cover of “The Gambler” minutes later upon reading about Rogers’ death. You can find it here if you’re interested.

 

3/18/20: Biking + Cows

Journal Entry No. 3

It’s been a week since I started working from home. Two minor observations under this setup: I get distracted easily, and the force on the bed is too strong. A major one: my excessive use of social media is taking a toll on my mental health. The amount of information concerning COVID-19 has overwhelmed me, and the need to tune in on the latest enemies of the online cancel culture has exhausted me. I am all for calling out people who help propagate injustices in our society, but for some reason, that also became too much to handle today.

I took a 20-minute break in the afternoon to clear my head. I went outside the house, put my feet on the pedals of a bicycle, and videoconferenced with my office pals (via phone) while simultaneously riding it.

On that short ride, my office pals saw a river, cows, carabaos, and chickens by the side of the asphalt road. I was supposed to show them an arc at the boundary of the territory of our province, which is about 10 minutes away from our house. Inscribed into the arc is the name of our province — a sign that passersby and vehicles are about to cross a border into a different province. I thought it would be cool to show them I could be in two places at once. Unfortunately, several meters away I saw that military personnel were manning the border. Since the entirety of the province is under household quarantine, I wasn’t supposed to be out there loitering. I stopped at a road-side food stall that sells chicken skin, and bought me some. Since under the implemented quarantine rules one member of a household is allowed to go out and buy food, the uniformed personnel can’t arrest me. After grabbing the bag of chicken skin, I decided to head back and showed my office pals more cows instead.

3/14/20: Tequila + China

Journal Entry No. 2

Last night, March 13, me and a friend, an army lieutenant, decided to meet at our house for drinks after months of canceled hangouts. We had tequila. We had a couple of calamancis in the fridge, and only one piece of lemon, which we sliced into approximately 20 small little pieces, to go with salt and tequila.  We had our own shot glasses. On a normal occasion, when there’s no threat from a pandemic outbreak, we share only one shot glass and take turns drinking. Around 30 minutes later, we were joined by my younger brother and his girlfriend who are also both working in the force.

The night started with my friend strumming his guitar, and singing, to a medley of popular local and foreign songs, including ad jingles, which I’m unsure if aided by his impressive ad libs or a pre-existing medley posted online. I noticed that his singing got better, like he performs with a little bit more passion now unlike before. 15 minutes or so later, he broke the news of his plan to get married in April. He said he’s excited, but I also noticed a trace of uneasiness — potentially a misread from my end — as he and I were discussing details. He also shared that the wedding might get postponed if the coronavirus outbreak doesn’t slow down in April.

The drinking session also became a venue for discussion about our thoughts on the incumbent government, especially its maddening “friendship” with China. We were especially frustrated with the government’s abnormal treatment of the issues regarding Chinese-owned firms’ failure to pay billions of taxes and the West Philippine Sea. We ended the discussion with a joke: the Chinese government has already started its 50-year invasion plan. I wasn’t sure if I was the only one who responded to the joke with a nervous laugh.

After finishing the bottle of tequila, we turned our attention to a case of beer. I got wasted, which resulted in a hangover. I’m not complaining though. It’s a luxury to get drunk in times like this.

3/12/20: Pandemic + Dependence

Journal Entry No. 1

The president of the Philippines, my country, announced tonight that the National Capital Region (NCR) will be placed under some sort of a lockdown/quarantine for one month due to the rising cases of COVID-19, the new coronavirus that has killed nearly 4,300 people around the world, and which impact has compelled the World Health Organization (WHO) to call it a pandemic on March 11 EDT.

I live in one of the biggest cities in the NCR, just 30 minutes away from the city where I work as a marketing professional. I live there with my boyfriend who I have been with for over two years. A couple of days ago I had planned to leave the NCR to stay at our family house in the province, which is four hours away, since rumours of a lockdown had been circulating since the outbreak became a global concern. I wanted to be at the same place with my family — my parents and siblings — in the event a lockdown is implemented. My work is not suspended, but we were allowed to work off-site; thus, allowing me to go home. My boyfriend and I had agreed that it would be best to do that. He, on the other hand, will stay at their house where his family resides. This morning, I left the city and arrived at our house in the province. 

In the evening after the president made his announcement in a seemingly drunken behavior — a recurring style which never ceases to surprise and annoy across social media –, I felt anxious, and then scared. A lockdown means shit is getting serious. Under an inept and corrupt government, not to mention abusive, this could end ugly for many people, including myself and my family. What if I already contracted the virus and I’m one of those who just don’t exhibit symptoms? What if I pass on the virus to my parents, who have pre-existing conditions? What if supplies don’t last and we experience starvation? Why is the action plan shared by the president so confusing, and, quite frankly, nonsensical in some parts? How are the people below the poverty line going to cope with this pandemic with minimal support from the government? As usual, the poor are the most susceptible to risks during times like this. It was pretty distressing, but having known what kind of government officials we have for over three years now, it was also depressingly unsurprising.

When my anxieties and fears subsided, I lied down and decided to rest. But before I could, a thought hit me, which made me tear up a bit: I wouldn’t be able to see my partner for a month. The longest we were apart since we started dating was seven days. He is the one that gets me through bad times, and I get those a lot. I am, in fact, having one now as of this writing. The following weeks are going to be tough if the outbreak doesn’t slow down. I hate thisss.

The Rain in This Town

I have planned to abandon this town

There’s nothing here to keep me steady

My vision drowns in muddy waters

I drink drops of poison to keep myself sane

I have planned to abandon this town

My neighbors still have nooses around their necks

Their tears have turned into artifacts; its value still buried in history

I have planned to abandon this town

But as I step outside to set forth, my body weakens, my face loses color

There’s no other place to take shelter

Because everywhere seems the same, everyone seems the same