After years of writing and reflecting on this space, it’s time for a new chapter. I’m grateful for every visit, comment, and quiet moment we’ve shared through these words.
I’ll be continuing my writing over on Medium, and I’d love for you to join me there: https://medium.com/@cbaclagon
See you on the other side.
With gratitude,
Chuck
to reclaim fire that was extinguished
to climb walls and watch the sunset
to take long walks inside the campus
to jump fences and locked gates
to hold banners and chant protest
to roll the dice at snakes and ladders
to see those piercing eyes
and your disarming smile
to embrace as we bid farewell
knowing that tomorrow holds promise
Longing…
to share an umbrella in the rain
to stroll empty museum isles
to have ice cream, noodles and cocktails
to be embraced in the cinema
to fall on a roller skate
to drink tea on coffeeshops
to get lost in old manila
hoping that the winding road
will lead me to you
Waiting and longing…
…Longing in silence
….Silently waiting
on the brink of tears
after a string of bad decisions
in a dance of vice, substance
and years of indecision
unspoken words, silent refrain,
hearts bespoke
is the chill of this occassion
that i drown in intoxication
feeling empty and in misery
not wanting pity nor empathy
all I have are the smiles of the dead and the dying
to comfort this aching heart
in this season of jubilation
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I take offense that their drive to push their 'radical' agendas they peddled the same populist language that was used in the disinformation campaign of the Marcos-Duterte tandem.
I take offense for intentionally leaving out the reality of massive disinformation and electoral fraud as important variables in the final outcome of the polls.
I take offense at their gull to speak for the 'masses' for romanticizing them as a revolutionary force but hesitate in demanding responsibility from the masses for their choice to elect oppressors.
I take offense in how they attacked their supposed allies more than the Marcos and Duterte tandem.
I take offense that in their pursuance of ideological articulation of change they willingly provided an opening for the rise of fascism and an extension of populist rule in the Philippines.
I take offense that when the shit of this new regime hits the fan, it is not them who will certainly experience the violence of the state.
To those who chose cynicism because it seemed cooler.
To those who are saying: "I told you so".
To those who say: "that's just the way thing are".
To those sayin: "move on."
Fuck you.
The prospects are so uncertain
We cannot feel anything but anxiety.
Many rose to the test
Cast their lot on hope itself.
But it seemed that in spite of everything
Still fell short of victory
Against the monsters that lay siege.
We are walking wounded but not fallen.
Tired but not lifeless.
Today we limp
Knowing that in time we will heal
And with enough perseverance
We can emerge strong and organized
And able to seize the day.
so far my experience has been terrible with prayer.
mere seconds of praying i get the opposite response.
the thing just got worse.
worse for the person i am praying for.
worse for me.
and then when i reflect and try to count my blessing.
i realize the multitude that are worse off than me
who i believe likewise prayed.
again i ask: why do we even bother?
There was a time when i started adjusting my entire personal time to bathe, take a shit, groom and take care of myself in general to the hours beyond midnight.
Now it just sucks that even that time is being taken away from me.
For how long will this last I sadly do not know.
For the past 5 years, I have been gradually immersed in this empty nothingness at home.
And now we start another year again in the shadow of this big empty nothingness.
We are only on our third day of 2022 and it’s beginning to feel like prospects are no better than the previous year.
I am tired and lonely staring, living and breathing the air within this big empty nothingness.
Each passing day is a difficult act of waking up to a new day with nothing to look forward to.
I don’t know how long I can last.
For the past few years, nothing has pained me more than the holidays.
None more so than the Christmas, I guess there is something about the cold weather and the cloudy skies that contrasts to the superficial joy of the consuming frenzy that comes with the season.
But as I grew older I can help but feel short-changed by the hype.
In the past couple of years, there's that added anxiety because Christmas means being alone in a houseful of people who have no idea that I am dying on the inside because of them.
The feeling of being trapped is more pronounced than on the regular days where I have my job as an escape.
The shit we have to live with because of love.
I have always thought that I am prone to this feeling. But these recent and ongoing years of unkindness have brought out the worst in me and then some.
There are no words to describe the pain of feeling left out at the sight of others' freedom while you stare at them from the confines of existential prisons made of love, kinship, and regret.
Holidays. Weekends. Lockdowns. So on...
Wasted sunshine. Sleepless nights. A shit-scented house. And nowhere to go.
As much as I would like to put an end to the usage of the term, I also feel that I can only be nothing but brutal in uttering words to articulate this indefinite limbo of pain.
I can't find myself to be anything but brutal.
It has been years and each time I wake up in the morning I open my eyes to this ever-increasing temptation to give up the ghost.
I wake up to be reminded that I have nothing to look forward to in my life.
I wake up to the loud noise of the television as it is watched by deaf ears.
I wake up to the thud of a body hitting the floor and the blood-soaked head and fractured bones where adrenalin kicks in to respond to emergencies.
I wake up to pressing deadlines at work and too tough decisions that need to be made.
I wake up to messages of scammers and swindlers.
I wake to count the days of how cruel the pandemic has been to people I know and love.
I wake up to the darkness of political realities where hope seems futile wishful thinking.
I wake up to realize that the years have passed and I am lonely.
I wake up lonely.
Daily.
Feeling cold and alone.
Alive but dying a painful death on the inside.
We're on the eve of a long weekend.
In my case, the pandemic has not been kind to holidays and weekends.
It means long hours spent at home.
Longer hours of tension.
Longer hours of restraint.
Prolonged exposure to that weird space that lies between anger and pity.
In agony she prayed: confessing her sins, seeking forgiveness,
Expressing gratitude and supplicating for either relief or release.
In a tragic twist of faith
A few minutes after saying "amen,"
Spasms and chills accompany the high fever
As I lay down beside her I listened to her pray yet again
But I find it hard not to think that your timing was cruel
A few minutes after the petition was sealed with an amen
You sent down pain on her frail body
I find no meaning and purpose
Maybe it would've just been better if
We could have been resolved
With a universe of no meaning
No divine cosmology
And life's tragedy was just
The byproduct of oppressive systems
Borne of selfish human choices
And random coincidences
Amen
My first year working for Greenpeace was life-changing as it coincided with the time that the organization was faced with the biggest organizational ecological flashpoint moments ranging from oil and cyanide spills; to violent dispersals and arrests of our activists; to having our flagship run aground a UNESCO World Heritage site.
Over the years the organization has changed from the one that I joined, but such is the case in all things.
In spite of that, I'm happy that they are still around and fighting the good fight. Happy 50th Greenpeace.
He enjoys being beyond reproach.
He savors in His divine right to be unaccountable.
Unlike the rest of us. Languishing in the misery of His benevolent choices.
"For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord". (Isiah 55:8)
Jusko.
And in all of this, I've only been given explanations based on observations from afar
I'm finding it unfair that not once have I been approached by anyone to offer me anything
Only pleas for help, support, a listening ear, and advice for their personal crisis
I feel like a thread that's unraveling from its spool on its way to an inevitable end
It feels really frustrating that this indefinite pause in my life is just an act of vacillating from one crisis to another with no end in sight.
