The Flight of the Rocketman

The vacuum created by the arrival of freedom
And the possibilities it seems to offer
It's got nothing to do with you
If one can grasp it
It's got nothing to do with you
If one can grasp it

Yea Yea Yea -- up the hill backwards
It'll be alright ooo
-- Up The Hill Backwards, words and music by David Bowie

David Bowie totally astounds me. His discordant melodies and his fabolous, out of this world lyrics just takes me away from my moment. I cannot just play David Bowie in the background. If I play one of his songs, I have to completely remove myself from reality and just be totally involved with his lyrics and his music. It is such an absorbing element. It's ethereal matter. It takes up space but not in a tangible form. It's amazing. And his voice; so alien. I was going to call it pure but it isn't. It's just so "in your face," so powerful. It's menacing, actually. It forces you to deal with it.

I just came from a reading. I wrote a short story that entered this fabolous anthology "Growing Up Filipino" (get a copy, it's a great read! Eep! Shameless plugging...) and I'm still high from the event. After all, as one of the writers, I get to sit in front, side-by-side with people like Cecilia Manguerra Brainard, Krip Yuson, Jimmy Abad, Christina Pantoja-Hidalgo and my teacher in fiction Connie Jan Maraan. These are literary heavy-weights in Philippine literature and I'm a relative newcomer but I was treated as their equal. It was wonderful. It was like a rite of passage into a strange world of literary high society. I felt like a celebrity. It was great. I was so excited and thrilled that when I had to read an excerpt from my story, I ended up reading so fast. As usual, my blood pumps too quickly that my whole body reacts accordingly. I tried to slow down but it seemed like I needed less oxygen in my system. I just kept talking and talking. I could've gone on and on. I loved it. I can't wait to finally get my own book out! Ha Ha Ha

And that's the thing also... I don't feel so rushed anymore about finishing my novel. It would be great but there is no rush. I'll write it and add more and more to the story as time goes by but there is nothing to be disappointed in creating a large body of work, albeit short fiction and poetry. Who knows? Maybe after two years, I would have written enough to compile into a collection? That alone is a pretty big feat, nothing to scoff at. There is no need to rush. Slow and steady, in leaping is there a chance to fall hard and hurt yourself. If anything, I got time.

To someone: you are probably never going to read this. We haven't spoken much and we don't really know each other but from what I gather, you don't seem to be the type to read here. That is not some sort of negative criticism or judgement on you, by the way. It's just how I see you. But I have to let this out. Once again I am asked to keep a secret and this time I will keep it. This time my mouth is shut. The last time, I did pretty well. I lasted a pretty long time before I spilled. But as I said, I don't know you that well, but I will keep your secret. No one will know. I want you to trust me. I will do all I can to earn it. I wait for your texts; fearing early sleep because it might come at the dead of night. I wish to learn more. Explore. I am intrigued. I've started writing on my journal again, more frequently, a place where I can be more open, say your name and say how I really feel. I am once again brought to my most primal, to my most vulnerable. You have me in a corner and you don't even know it. If you squeezed, the pressure alone will snap me in two. But don't be careful, just be yourself. Let's see where this all goes. Every journey has a destination. I want to visit as many as I can.

I want to feel myself go under, baby
Where the deepest rivers bleed
I want to feel it pull me under, darlin'
Until it drops me to my knees
I want to know that I can find you
When there's no more eyes to see
In this cool, clear water runnin'
You'll come runnin' to me
-- Cool, Clear Water; written and performed by Bonnie Raitt