Some philosophical consideration of transience

2011 August 25
tags: , ,
by Kim

Days in between days and in between hours, life fades. It sheds invisibly like a dead skin. The incredulous pressure to count more of what is lost and growing more perplexed as to why: such is living. It keeps happening so we become alert. Loss makes us aware of the gaping holes in our hearts that needs filling. Every day you wonder when you will gain something, truly, something of value. And even then when it passes through your hand, will you know? Will you recognize what it is that one ought not to lose? You never know. Such as how you never know how hours turn to days in between days.

At times it is bearable to cope with this sense of loss. Hope clings to the surface of our consciousness like a damp cloth.

I once dreamt that I stood in the middle of a near empty highway at night. There were no cars. As soon as a headlight reared itself from a distance, I crossed. What was the point of this? I knew that regardless of how unthreatening it might be to stand in emptiness, it is still precarious. Precaution is never the absence of danger. When danger waltzed in, I felt safer. At least I knew what was coming. Knowledge is never reassuring but it has the illusion of security. When we know then we become less afraid. Even of dying.

But dying is different from death itself. We do not know what death is like so we are afraid of it. Is this what they mean by “face your fear”? Is it facing the possibility of death? It made me think of all of those who stared down at death from the precipice. It must pass through fear somehow. And after that, who knows. Is it a vacuum? Are we emptied of all fear when death finally comes?

Perhaps this is why some are no longer afraid to die, or at least they say they do. They know it does not last: fear, life and death. For that matter, nothing lasts. We cling to the transience of things being where they are at a certain moment before they are gone. We are obsessed about preservation, permanence and the habitual discourse of living life to the fullest. When life is full, does it not become empty? Heidegger must be rolling in his grave by now. Are we not living paradoxes, in that sense?

Every day I contemplate. Modernity prescribes that this is a pointless exercise. I laugh, I talk, I eat, I sing, I love, I dance, I drink, I cry – nothing wrong with that. True that no one tells me what to do but how come all this pressure not to think? I ask, I think, I think again and on top of another point of analysis, I think about that too. I have been told that I think too much like it is the most laughable thing. It is funny. It is funny that it is funny and even funnier that it is funny at all. We laugh at the darkest things to ease the tension, to reduce it to its most trivial form. For when things are small they become bearable. I remember how the late Edith Tiempo described, for instance, how love is folded up so it is compacted in our hands. We compact those that overwhelm us. An act of suppression that makes life all the more bearable: we fold and fold until we run out of halves. We are all made of the little things that we shelve in the back of our minds. The little things we would rather not think about.

Albeit, it is pointless! It is pointless to think about the big questions. I am just as clingy as the damn damp cloth. For what little or much I have to live for there is that pointlessness to it. We all fall down eventually. We all fade. We all lose. But here I am and you can read me and that is the point of it all.

Running

2011 August 16
tags: , ,
by Kim

I have been running for some time. I have no usual path. I just run wherever curiosity takes me. I want to keep running until I get tired. Soon enough your body exhausts itself and you couldn’t run any further. You stop.

I count on that blissful moment of thoughtlessness.

And then I roll around in bed, tired. Rearing to sleep.

When I wake up, I am replenished. I feel powerful. And then I think of you. I could run no further.

I swim. Every breathe I take is to keep my mind on the water. Underwater I try to swim as long as I can before coming up for air. I don’t know why. It’s not necessary yet I do it. I skip a second to breathe.

Keep your mind on the water.

This goes on for about eight hundred meters. And then I gasp. I am panting while clinging to the edge of the pool. I am exhausted. I lay my head back and let my body float for a while to rest. I look up to the starless sky and I close my eyes.

I opened my eyes and you are next to me. I could feel you stir. Are you pretending to be asleep?

I kiss your naked back. I kiss along the line of your spine. You stir some more. You wriggle a little bit. And you comment that the room is too dark that it makes you horny all the time.

I spoon you and make gentle thrusts on you. You moan. You like it. You turn around and put your arm around me. Your hands are all over. You grab my hand to let me know you are wet. Everything is a blur at that point. You roll on top of me. You rub yourself against me. You ride me and you say you like it. It’s incredible.

I wake up.

I wake up and see the starless sky and my body is afloat on the pool.

I do not own you

2011 August 8
by Kim

Never will you sate
me with your embrace, now that
we are not naked.

As it stands: Overcoming psychic entropy

2011 July 21
by Kim

It’s been a while since I have written anything which resembles my active voice. At the moment I’m compelled to deal with the noise in my head: one similar to a derby stadium. I must write.

I just got back from a three-day escape. It wasn’t enough time for me. I feel I should have been gone for a week. And I also feel strongly about the idea of disappearing for a month. If not for the things tying me down, I would have gone for it. A month of solitude. Maybe even a year.

Every time my world congests all I think about is escape.

But I can’t. Not at the moment. So much is at stake. I have to plow through all of my responsibilities one task at a time. Yet I always have to deal with this sinking feeling that there’s never enough time. And I stress myself out with the feeling I get out of imagining impossibilities.

And while all of this is going on in my head, another part of me is seeking attention. It’s flailing its arms at me in distress. At times when I have the patience, I look at it with some consideration and give it the attention that it demands from me. The trouble with being a student of psychology is the tendency to turn a private emotional event or moment of introspection as a therapy session. I ask myself the same questions I would a client. The Whats and Hows. Never why because that stuff takes you nowhere concrete.

Whereas there are days when I grow tired and anxious and I just want to shake off the “distraction”. It has not been easy. I find myself putting my face between the pages of a book whenever I’m reading. How I wish knowledge was absorbed that way. There are days when I feel restless and I just want to see a friend so that they can talk to me about their issues and forget myself for a moment. Some mornings I run or swim and then I stop midway. And the moment I feel tired or when I take a rest, these thoughts come marching back in to my consciousness. I don’t want to think about it all the time, but I do.

***

Recently, a friend sought some advice on how to break up with someone. I told her that I wouldn’t be the best person to talk to. But I said something to her which surprised me: the decisions we make when it comes to relationships reflect our attitude toward commitment – it goes both ways. To break up is also a commitment. Once you commit to cutting ties, you have to ask yourself if you want this to be permanent. If you can commit to someone, you can also commit to yourself and what you’re willing to do – I said something to that effect.

Decisions, decisions. The trouble with me is that I procrastinate so much that I don’t decide right away. You never move forward until you’ve made a decision. So suck up your own advice, Kim.

So yes, I have myself to blame if I feel in any way STUCK. Would I still feel like escaping when I’ve untangled myself from my own cognitive mess? Perhaps.

Cognitive Dissonance

2011 July 20
by Kim

To leave on a whim doesn’t mean I have somewhere to go.
Just because my eyes are open doesn’t mean I’m wide awake.
And when I talk to someone it doesn’t mean I see their face.
When I cry, it doesn’t mean I’m emotional.
Walking down the road fast doesn’t mean I’m in a hurry.
Taking on more work doesn’t mean that I have no interest in rest.
Resting doesn’t mean I’m not restless.
Just as how sitting down after long hours of standing doesn’t mean that I am tired.
Becoming destitute doesn’t mean I am humble.
Smiling doesn’t mean I’m pleased.
Laughing doesn’t mean I find it funny.
Nodding doesn’t mean that I agree.
Being articulate doesn’t mean I am thinking clearly.
Speaking my mind doesn’t mean I want to be heard.
Making the right decision doesn’t mean I am happy.
Isolation doesn’t mean I want everyone to walk away.
Disappearing doesn’t mean I am saying goodbye.
Doing something reckless doesn’t mean I am fearless.
Knowing doesn’t mean I have learned.

A food post

2011 July 5
tags:
by Kim

I love food so much. I’m not that picky, actually. But I know what I like. You can take me anywhere. We can go to Agdao wet market and have a nice bowl of balbacua with corn shavings on the side. Or let’s have hinalang in Obrero or Bonifacio during the wee hours, when the drivers need to warm up their gut. Unlike most people, you’ll find that I have no qualms about vegetables. In fact I LOVE them. Quaint vegetable eateries at chinatown will make me happy. Some days let’s have pork barbecue, gizzard and fried fish on the sidewalks of Roxas. Not to mention some RC to push it down. Or some hot pastil bundled in banana leaf. I will go for Toron any day or Pinaypay, depending on my mood. I especially love street food hotcakes. What is with how margarine and sugar going so well together? I know it tastes so artificial, but I like those five-peso buko juice in a jug that’s been overpowered by evaporated milk. Might as well buy evaporated milk and mix it with muscovado – that stuff reminds me of my childhood.

We can also dine out at a fancy restaurant. I do keep my manners in check, for my companion’s sake so no worries. Otherwise, I eat alone and just concentrate on the food I’m eating. I call it “date with a plate”. Want to pleasantly surprise me? I have a predilection for any white meat soaked in lemon sauce. It has to have that consistency that’s almost like honey, but not quite as thick. I also love beef ribs with anything mushroom and garlic. Okay, oriental style will be nice too – I used to crave beef brisket like it was a wet dream. I am thankfully not allergic to any seafood so you can stuff me with crab and all its fatty orange goodness. Speaking of seafood, scallops are my favorite. Mom used to warn me about my expensive taste when I began to demand scallops every Sunday, the big ones they import from Australia. But even the small ones are nice: I will be satiated after 250g of baked Scallops. I’ve tried eating that with some sizzling fish gonads (Bagaybay), I thought I was in heaven.

I love goats but when they’ve been struck down and turned to Bopiz, I love them all the more. Kilawin comes second to that. I don’t understand why people wouldn’t like that stuff. What about Kinilaw or Sinuglaw? That’s Ceviche for the rest of you. Raw fish tickles my fancy. Sashimi to Nigirizushi. I cannot stress enough how much I LOVE Japanese food. Gyoza, Ramen, Yasai Ittame, uhh..stuff me with these. I actually don’t mind dying from Fugu poisoning one day. Which reminds me, I am planning to visit some coastal town in Mindanao which I heard serve a local version of the delicacy at an affordable price.

Oh, how could I forget my love for pasta? I eat tomatoes straight from the bush so that when you put them down on a sauce the effect is divine. I like big chunks of tomatoes on my pasta, if not in puree form. Pomodoro is a favorite. But so is pasta in herb and olive oil with roasted garlic and mixed vegetable pasta. I like both the creamy and oily kind of pesto pasta. As for the puttanesca, I have two caveats: one, is for it to have lots of capers and black olives and two, it has to be dry and spicy. I prepare for pasta with chunks of blue peppato or blush, depending on my mood. A meat platter would be nice, too, paramaham as my favorite.

I have a sweet tooth but I don’t like anything too sweet (except for Red Velvet), the kind that makes your head hurt. The kind of sweetness I look for is one with body. I want my whole mouth to be filled with the flavor of sweetness. I eat for sensation. Some friends call me chocolate monster and with good reason. Dark please. The darker the better, especially the ones from Peru. Belgian chocolates are best in fondue form or some plain baked good. The swiss chocolate is best in liquid form especially if served hot on a dessert. I love chocolate cakes and brownies. Straight up cakes are fine by me – I eat them fast. Layered ones take time. That’s why I especially love soft desserts like cold mousse or chocolate pudding.

Speaking of soft desserts, I love gelatin and other cold desserts. Ice cream on crepe or ice cream cake/sandwich will complete my day so long as nuts were used sparingly. Cold tapioca or cold taho with huge sago bits. Ah, the sago…they have to be pearl-sized. They actually count for snacks, just give me something soft to munch on. Like special fried tikoy or Japanese rice cake with custard filling. Donuts come in a close second, the ones that have a chocolate base are the best. If you know me well enough, you know where to find my FAVORITE donut. Clue: it’s six hours away. Speaking of something found hours away, just a short trip from the city will take you to Mers where they make the best Bibinkas. I like how some parts of the surface get burnt, the mixture of egg and cheese on top. Yum! Makes me miss the Ube bibinka of Kibuwi…ah, the gustatory decadence of my childhood.

Now, what to pair with all this? I drink a lot of water. But if I could get away with it, I love fresh fruit juices particularly mangoes, honeydew, guyabano, buko, strawberries, kiwi… I try to avoid soda when possible but I would gladly put it off if I finally find a place serving Vanilla cola. Red wine goes well with dark meat (cabernet sauvignon if the seasoning is mild and pinot noir for full-flavored dishes). White wine goes well with fish and vegetables. Beer for unpretentious pizza and latino dishes. Dark beer is a safe bet for any kind of food, dry lager for everything else…the rest is for a purely social function. Belgian and German beers are fruity if not malty like a nice bottle of Hoegaarden. And of course my favorite: lambic beer whether made of sour cherries or raspberries. To die for. I always say, it’s the only beer that makes you smile at the first sip…but then again, don’t take my word for it.

Don’t get me started on coffee. This would require a different article. My favorite? Espresso.

What else have I missed? My love for soups. I loved pumpkin soup the first time I tried it, it didn’t have that much broth but it was an interesting soup nevertheless. Lately, I’ve been craving for that giant burger at Al’s. With some belgian fries to go with that. What about cheese? Absolutely crazy about cheeses. Even ordinary cheddar, once burnt taste oh so yummy. But blue cheese tops my list any day. I love soft boiled eggs with Kaya toast. In Malaysia, I’ve tried this with Chrysanthemum tea instead of coffee. ACK. Why am I writing all of this? Why am I writing about things I cannot have right now?

Satisfy me

2011 June 28
by Kim

I stared into abyss
from the top of the well
I could easily find
water, elsewhere
but I want it
deeper
darker
unknown

The catapults
gripped and stretched
the tension is sure to break
but I want it pulled
harder
longer, until
shaking

I want to be killed
with a look as she
puts her hand
in my mouth
while she utters
commands
bend
kneel
come

I have no use
for hesitation
no thrill from
the timid
only pauses
when the brain
pumps too much blood
from all the surreal
ecstasy

For I want it
deeper
darker
unknown
tighter
harder
longer
shaking
kneeling
bending
coming
coming
coming
coming

To sudden death

Protected: X withdrawal

2011 June 26
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by Kim

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When I’m quiet, I think

2011 June 12
by Kim

I always thought Sundays were my kind of day.

As soon as I got out this morning, I was pleasantly surprised to find out that it is Independence day. At some part of town, flags of the revolution were draped along the gates of a government building. For the occasion, it seemed ironic that the street is nearly empty. It still feels like a Sunday. The frenzy, if there was any, is hidden from my vantage point. And I liked that. The fact that I have a view of the city that conforms to my aesthetic of what a Sunday is like. A serene day. A day fit for contemplation. Despite these interjections of historical note.

I’m very sensitive about things I see. It is in this sort of encounter between my reality and senses charged with the most emotion. Images have a way of seeping in to my poetic memory. It is a memory so intense that I have to keep them private. My mind becomes a sanctum. For instance, what beauty I see becomes untouchable. They are in a dreamlike movement, yet it is immovable.

And so when, coincidentally, random things fall upon each other and begin to appear meaningful and memorable…I don’t know. Sometimes I look away from reason because at times reasons seem absurd. No, I don’t believe things happen for a reason. But when things happen, one reasons out. Assigning meaning to a random array of events. It’s a trickster.

Being human has a call to transcendence. And yet we are made of matter too, things which set limits. Limits we overlook because we are just…human.

***

I am saying something but I am not telling you what it is. There are times that vagueness explains itself best:

I’m inclined with the idea that the week starts on a Sunday. There is a calmness when one is being eased in to a new beginning. But things also end on a Sunday in a brutal fashion. The weekend is over. The week turns its back on time ad infinitum.

It is a day of beginning and end.

Summertime

2011 May 4
tags:
by Kim

The kiss of summer
has the lingering sweetness
of goodbye

She once said
that sweat is filthy
yet she was proud to have ran
all those childhood years
unrelenting to the beckoning
of afternoon naptimes

She is religious with her siestas
Awaken only by the distonic chorus
of her neck
At this point her body rises,
“Let us not waste
the sunshine we have left.”

I am here with her

Her eyes light up
whenever the flowers
wake up to the sun
At times, the mornings are cool
the skies glum
casting only faint rays
the blooms escape
But you have to water them anyway
All still thirst in their sleep

In my sleep
I dream of holding you, my love
It shows in the tightness of my grip
and the frenzy of my kisses

Desire is brash
Desire is vulgar
Forgive me
if I show you
no sympathy in the sack

Time is of the essence
so why do you avert your eyes
from what is essentially timeless?
Such as love

We are here together now
but we have said our goodbyes
long before the end of summer

Yes, the kiss of summer
has the lingering sweetness
of goodbye