smile of the grotesque

What would you do when you see a perfect nobody? Who is she to you?

She is nothing but a simple smile. Nothing but a two-second memory that seems to haunt your every hour. A curse. Her face is the face of a curse that you seem to crave for. Everything about her. Terrible things await.

My metal bonds are but chains of thread as she pull me. And I willingly beat myself to torment as she bites her lower lip like she’s unsure. Playing the dangerous game of uncertainty. And she wins everytime.

I no longer know her. But when did I know her? I don’t know her. But maybe… I know her.

Her face, her eyes, her nose and her smile. Oh that wretched and wonderful smile. The smile that burns the passion within my cold blank heart.

And then, I bleed.

birthmark

Both of your shoulders

covered with light

brown skin

that I wish I did not

kiss

when we were alone

together.

They are like two

conquering hands

clutching you

always—

not

letting go.

It has been there years

before I came

to you.

When will I ever

rid of

the light brown

skin, I would like to

get a thin white

knife

and

pierce your

soft plump skin

down to its

firm flesh.

I envy the

mark

that has

rested

around your

shoulders since your

birth.

a glance

In two

seconds

I looked,

you saw.

Our eyes—

we met

like two

bubbles

combined.

In two

seconds

we were

just one

I give

myself

to you.

It then

ended—

pop!

pop!

In two

seconds

I lived

and died

with you.

proetry and poese

After taking up CW101 under Prof. Jhoanna Cruz, we’re expected to have decided to the form of genre we’re suppose to focus at. In Creative Writing, we’ve got a lot to choose from. Being a fanatic of this course, I’m actually having this dilemma of what to focus on.

I’m lousy at playwriting! That’s a fact. At first, I was still optimistic in trying it out. I did try my best but I guess it just wasn’t for me. I don’t know. It’s the genre of being in the stage. The fact that the considerations that it’s to be performed rather than be read is quite new to me. Don’t get me wrong, I like staged plays. I actually had my share of experience in performing on stage in my younger days. But the writing of the play itself, hmmmm… I think it’s a no-no for me.

On the other hand, I guess I can consider myself to be a reasonably fair fiction writer. hehe. I mean, I’ve made stories that clicked. They’re not that good but I guess people found some potential in the writing. To be honest, I tend to get material to man’s best friend–the television. That’s the reason why my first short stories were kind of cinematic in a way. I like writing stories. Short stories or short short stories/flash fictions. The thing about fiction is the fact that I have the chance to explain myself in a prosaic way which is quite comfortable.

Poetry, however, is something exotic yet mysterious genre for me. And I’m quite thrilled in learning it. Unlike fiction, I find poetry more difficult and less comfortable. The choice of words, the tone, rhythm, rhyme, meter and other technicalities or non-techinalities are like strings tangled together in my mind. And the thing is, I love it! I love the feeling of playing with words and I kind of feel like I’m falling in love with poetry.

So it’s either fiction or poetry. Where should I focus and concentrate? I like both. I can be good at both. But there’s this feeling that only one should precede the other in my choice. What? Help me.

Poetry or Prose.

stream of cons

I’m done! I’ve finished passing the necessary requirements for my embarkment. I just wish I won’t get rejected. I really want to be part of the workshop. Oh well, I’ll just cross my fingers here.

For the whole day I’ve been typing and typing and typing. Encoding my aunt’s hand-outs for their month long seminar about Early Childhood. When I’m not typing, I’m playing Minesweeper. It’s probably the only computer game I’m good at except perhaps Solitaire. I know that just sound pathetic.

Inspired by Virginia Woolf and William Faulkner, I’ve started reading books with the “Stream of Consciousness” technique. It’s a way of writing where its the writing is not necessarily linear or logical. It’s actually topsy-turvy but it shows how candid and how the mind actually works. It works like crazy hell!

For example, I’m typing at the moment but I’m actually thinking about the blue dirt in my third toenail. A human’s mind is like a multi-tasking surfer. It works simultaneously. That’s basically more or less the Stream of Consciousness.

Read Woolf’s The Mark on the Wall its a long long work but it all revolve around the goldarned mark on the wall which in the end looks like a snail for her. Cool huh?

Some writers resolve on the Stream of Consciousness because of their deep dark desire to deviate from language and grammar. Some don’t use punctuation marks and doesn’t follow the right spelling and syntax of the language. I tried doing it, check my other blog not correct but correctless.

You may find it weird and odd but you know what, I wouldn’t care. It’s all my brain. Just for the record, NO! I didn’t bother editing any of the posts there. If you want nothing but random words and thoughts, that blog is it.

f

Fly.

Flying.

Flew.

Flown.

Fell.

Fool.

Fly.