on a mac. sadly, not during a live performance.
situationer: when i get starstruck, i freeze, blurt out stupid phrases, and smile like there was no tomorrow. once, when i saw my mermaid-mentor in a concert after eons of not seeing her, i cried while i was hugging her. in my own twisted hierarchy of truths, to see her at unlikely places serves as a sign from god that everything would be alright. while we were conversing, she saw j. neil garcia, her colleague and mate in the pantheon of literary people. she introduced me to him. and i was so starstruck, so fatalistically moved that i shook his hand and blurted out: i love your poems with crazy fire in my eyes. (it’s just so hard to control emotions during times as this one.) another time, when my friends and i went to U.P. to drop off something, we passed by the lit faculty, and i saw on a door a nameplate with the name, bienvenido santos. i stayed rooted on the spot, with my friend gaping at the door. i guess we were waiting for the door to swing open and reveal the great writer scribbling away on some sheaf of paper.
fast forward to today, with no certainty of growth when it comes to my maturity: recently, i was able to watch cynthia alexander’s chord progression video. i remember being rooted on the spot when i saw cynthia a. perform once. i can’t remember if i held on to a friend’s hand, but knowing myself, i would have written a journal entry out of it. naturally, i was in that state when i had a stupid grin on my face. the first time i heard one of her songs was when i was in grade 7. it’s a very distinct memory: i was lying on the floor, as it is my habit to listen to albums in that position. NU played her song, the ceiling spun tales, and time stood still.
i watched the video on the mac, mesmerized, as she scratched her forehead. i thought, so this is how a goddess scratches her forehead. she performed, and her fingers did little dances on her guitar’s frets. on the video, she admitted she was a bit shy being taped. my god. i just stood in front of the mac, and listened to her. no thoughts rushed in, no noises from other people filtered in; like everything was distilled, as if i can do anything and everything if i willed it. my mind was lucid. everything was at it should be: my goddess was singing, and i was listening.
if i were a stupid writer, i would give you pieces of trivia about her, but today, that’s not my calling. a goddess doesn’t deserve less. digest her words, eat the words if you like so that you’d feel, even if only a bit, her rawness and sincerity.
“woke up this morning i was staring at the ceiling cracks.. i have seen, i have been to places far and deep in my mind, only to find comfort in your strangeness.. we are nothing, we are nothing, we are nothing, but the dust on our feet dying to be born again….” comfort in your strangeness
“and threw wide open the door, slippin’ away, slippin’ away from me….” slipping away
“i remember walking in the rain, no umbrella with your arms around me…” no umbrella