June 20, 2006
A cut from a calling card of a friend's friend. I always have Jay to thank for when it comes to books in the shelves now, sitting and lying there in all their glorious worlds of words.
Russ and I went home to Cebu after a trip to Jay's place at Bacolod -- and that hike for the seven falls of Mambukal Resort, with the bat-area as the greatest highlight of all... yes Russ, I know we weren't able to go to the area itself, but then again we saw them while on top of the mountain, like huge, black-garbed flies...ug russ jay, ayaw kalimti ang Korean language -- Russ and I each carrying a bagful of books, including the rare finds from Filipino novelists and poets.
For Carlo's unfinished text, I found it inside his collection of poems Marginal Bliss, which was part of the UP Jubilee Students' Edition, 2002.
The verse reminds me of Jay's text message in the 3oth of April, a day right after I turned 20.
The day little Gerome passed away.
Let us both drink from this ocean of pain that contains us, not knowing whether this ritual would make us cry sand or vomit pearls.
The month I stayed with Gerome, I never wrote, save for at least three poems that never got their way past mediocrity level.
The month I stayed with Gerome I never wrote anything about the stink of the hospital, or his skate shoes, or the different way he and I played Icebreaker 2, or the way he looks outside from his window.