"i will let him occupy me for a moment, i tell myself. this moment is a long, dark and hopeless chasm in which i constantly find myself--at wit's end, usually. a series of repeated blunders, impenetrable plot walls (move, tangina, move!) and sometimes even the smallest of trifles (noise. and i live in manila.) sometimes in my frustration, i had slept away entire days. "congrats on subitting an article!" texts a friend, who is overseeing one of the projects in which i contribute to--in pathetic, sporadic fashion. I'm sorry, i wanted to tell him. but i don't, because what if he was actually in a congratulatory mood and the apology would have confunded things further--nah. i'm too full of shame for any kind of response, to be honest.
have just come home from baguio after having interviewed a woman, L, whose family had been weavers for generations. They are about to debut at a design fair soon, and they are wary of having their designs--a labor of love, a kind or rennaissance you might say, for their entire village--pirated for mass production.
"come write about us," her husband, a friend for many years now, keeps asking me. I come, because I want to write, and what wonderful things they have shown me. I have planned what i am to write, all in my head. I don't know what to do next. I'm terrified of many things.
kababawan, putakte.
During a lull in the interview, Tomcat went and asked L about what the colors of their textiles meant. I never thought of that. I couldn't have been gladder to have had him with me at that moment. and i had only asked about what the patterns meant.
"Mahal mo na? Mahal mo na agad?"
"Oo naman." Besides, how can we put a clock to such things. recently, have been awake and at work far more often. not much change in output, but more attempts have been made nonetheless.
I'm still terrified."
Written, September 17, 2014.
I want to embrace her, tell her, "You poor, silly thing."
I want to tell her, "Listen to your head, look at all the tiny red flags."
I want to scream at her, "Run! Run as far away as your little feet will take you!" for there is nothing but pain at the end of that tunnel.
Only pain, a dark, seething, pain.
