The Bibliophiles

Standing inside the train bound for Pureza, feet apart for sustaining balance, eyes looking out the window, mind wandering elsewhere. Phone suddenly rang and vibrated. Received a text message from a Patetik friend. It read:

…Potek.Wla c emp0y*.

Emitted a little laugh of disgust. Should have seen it coming. Should have stayed in bed until the drowsiness brought about by a 5-hour sleep fades into nothingness. Emitted a little laugh of disgust once more, along with a heavy sigh and a tsk. Should have stayed at home.

Wednesdays are supposed to be rest days. But since freakin’ *Prof Ethics doesn’t give a damn as to whether his students needed rest, he had scheduled a make-up class complete with blush-on, eyeliner, mascara, foundation, etc. for today… and then saying that he won’t make it, leaving the class hanging.

Sat with friends and classmates at the second floor lobby. Talked about the final requirements for Public Info and Campaigns, and cursed Prof  to his last atom, despite the fact that the department fuckaculty room is a good five steps from where we’re sitting. Left the school after an hour or so.  Upon knowing that  Maui had stumbled upon E. M. Forster’s book Maurice (that book she’d been  looking for in various bookstores for quite a while now)  yesterday at Booksale in Shopwise Cubao, decided to tag along with her to the aforesaid place for yet another book raid.

At the LRT Pureza station platform, we saw train number 12 custom-painted or custom-coated, well whatever, with what seemed like a gigantic teaser of the movie 2012 with the daunting WE WERE WARNED | THIS IS HOW THE WORLD WILL END. Maui was apparently thrilled at the sight of it, she had texted me early that morning that she wanted to ride that train. But it had already passed us by. So we hunkered down the platform, after the passing of two trains more,  the 2012 one came back and we hopped in.

Dropped off to Gateway Cineplex first to accompany Maui in buying Tita Elen, her mother, a ticket to Michael Jackson’s This Is It. She’s one big fanatic, needless to say. And after a series of twists and turns, there loomed the glass doors of Booksale. A grin made its way all over my face.

Scoured shelf after shelf, section by section. Hoping that some stray and affordable Sheldon would pop before my eyes. Unluckily, no Sheldon showed up. Ended up buying two Cornwell hardbounds – Blow Fly, and Cause of Death – both of them Scarpetta novels of course, and The Great Jessica Zafra’s sourcebook of pithy statements – Monty Python’s Flying Circus: All The Words Volume 1. Good finds at cheap prices. What more can one say. Whilst Maui bought two books, one was Adam and Steve, and another one which title I forgot, and placed a copy of Brokeback Mountain for reservation. Yes, Booksale is open for reservations, but only for two days from that day, quite a good discovery. Oops, forget that I ever mentioned that. Have also met Joy, Maui’s friend, one certified bibliophile too.

On Saturday, will surely go back to  Cubao, at Gateway Cineplex 10 in particular, for I-Witness DocuFest. Can hardly wait.

Afterthought

Symptomatic by Danzy Senna

I tried to explain to her what I loved about my work: The sense I got disappearing into somebody else’s story. Of watching and not being seen. Then and only then do the secrets reveal themselves to you.

- Symptomatic by Danzy Senna

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So after the typhoon attacks that left Pasig, Rizal and Marikina inundated with truckloads of garbage and maddening mud, classes resume in the slightly-affected areas in the metro.

School seemed unscathed, its stifling ambiance still apparent and fashionista-wannabes consistent. Only that they were fewer in number yesterday. Perhaps some volunteered in the repacking and distribution of relief goods, marooned in a chest-deep flood, or simply hadn’t gotten around to convincing themselves in going to school, assuming that the professors would be considerate since The Great Flood practically devastated most of the places from which their students come from. This is merely stating the obvious, I know.  It’s never easy for a nocturnal being to summon her writing-nerve amid the broad daylight.

Doggone Catastrophe

This post is  a compilation of my thoughts at the onslaught of tropical storm Ondoy. They are all  written in longhand – a rare occurrence I must say – brought about by the power outage in the past three days.

Case file no. 260909 – Terrifying Typhoons II

It’s been raining since I woke up at around seven this morning. By nine-thirty, the electricity went off. And by ten, the family started salvaging the sofa, the fridge, the closet, and other valuable possessions by elevating them at ten inches from the flooring – a pond had miraculously materialized inside our house. And I was dumbstruck as the magnificent sight of a brownish river complete with floating pieces of plastic, cotton buds, twigs, and lots of other icky stuff, greeted me from the outside.

Must be the modern-day version of The Great Flood (God forbid), I thought with a lopsided smile. Pathetically awful, awfully pathetic. A flood of such shocking depth occurred for the first time in our place, probably caused by the industrial operations in a vast tract of land nearby that had brought forth the clogging of drains. But of course, that’s some theory. At the back of my mind, there still lingered a doubt. Perhaps it’s about time to make amends for our sins.

Fear of the uncontrollable mingled with anxiety for the pile of schoolworks that lies ahead began seeping through my nerves. Typhoons, as I have pointed out in a post way back, have this peculiar knack for spoiling important happenings, and disturbing one’s bodily functions.

Parental Guidance

Early Friday morning, I had awakened to the sound of Mother nagging me to attend the parents’ meeting and card distribution of my sister in Rizal High, 1 o’clock that afternoon. With my mind groggy, I nearly replied, Hala minsan na nga lang kami magkita ni Sir Ethics dahil hindi na siya masyadong pumapasok, luckily, I caught my consciousness and sanity near enough to give her a no and add, 1:30 pa uwi ko. She was adamant with it though, until I left the house at 8 am she was still convincing me to go; otherwise she won’t give me money to buy the book I wanted. So that’s what you call child bribery. But that only steeled my resolve of not going, even if it meant another Twisted away from my grasp.