We have a live one. :)

Danny, salamat sa e-mail mo, ha? Kinilig naman ako. :) Pasens'ya ka na at ngayon lang ako nakapagcheck ng e-mail, masamang ugali ko na yan na kinaiinisan ng marami kasi kailangan pa ako i-text ng mga tao para icheck ko ang e-mails ko.

Masaya ako na kahit papaano ay napasaya kita sa paglathala ng tula mo sa blog ko. Sana sumulat ka pa ng maraming tula dahil mahusay ka naman. Naibigan ko rin ang ipinadala mong bagong tula, sana okay lang sa'yo kung i-post kong muli ito sa blog, kasama na rin ng liham mo (at liham ko) para magmukha talagang correspondence ng idol at fan. Nyahaha.

Wag kang mag-alala, ugali ng marami ang i-Google ang kanilang sarili. Buti ka nga paminsan-minsan lang, ako nga madalas. :P

Ingat ka at aabangan ko palagi ang mga bago mong katha.

Polaris

From: "Danilo R. dela Cruz, Jr."
To: polarisns@hotmail.com
Subject: Salamat
Date: Wed, 25 Jul 2007 11:40:01 +0800

Hi!

Ugali ko nang i-Google ang pangalan ko paminsan-minsan. Maaaring sanhi ito ng banidad o kaburyungan sa trabaho ko o baka naman paghahanap lang ito sa nawawalang sarili - ako, sabi ng iba, makata. Kinalimutan ko na muna ang pagtula o ako ang kinalimutan ng tula. Naging abala ako sa iba't ibang trabaho sa maraming taon at pakiramdam ko'y unti-unting nababaog ang aking lenggwahe sa pagtula, sa paglikha, sa paghahanap ng kahulugan sa wala. At wala, wala akong magawa kahit anong pilit kong sumulat ng isa o dalawang linya sa gabi. At kapag ganoon, hinahayaan ko na lamang. Wala akong laban kapag ganoon. Hanggang sa makita ko nga na ipinaskil mo sa blog mo ang isang tula ko. Makatutulong iyon sa akin na muling makapagsulat kasama ng iba pang inspirasyon. Maraming salamat kung sino ka man. Gusto ko uling makaniig ang Salita.

Tula ko. Wala lang.

Lahat Tayo ay Nakatayo

Lahat tayo ay nakatayo
sa palengke,
sa pabrika,
sa opisina,
sa bukid,
sa eskuwela,
sa kalsada,
sa Palasyo,
sa silid,
sa kubeta,
sa plasa,
sa simbahan,
at sa mga lugar ng pag-ibig at digmaan.
Walang gustong umupo
dahil baka nga naman mawalan tayo
ng bigas,
ng prutas,
ng isda,
ng karne,
ng gamot,
ng tubig,
ng damit,
at ng asin.
Pati, ng alak,
ng sigarilyo,
ng kantot,
ng gigil,
at ng aliw.
Walang dahilan upang umupo,
lalo't nagkakadaskulan tayo
sa kakaunting grasya at ganansiya.
Sino nga naman ang may gusto
ng barya at disgrasya?
Ng galit at pagdurusa?
At kung may isa man sa atin
ang makaramdam ng hapo
at maisipang umupo,
bigla rin namang tatayo.

Road trip.

It had been awhile since P and I went road tripping and we both decided to go to Subic for a bit of R & R. We stayed at the Subic Bay Yacht Club (our first time) and luckily got a room with a view of the Marina. Subic is a convenient destination. Something about its antiseptic look also appeals to us. On ordinary days, the place is quiet and sleepy, like a ghost town. The streets inside the Freeport zone are almost always deserted and everything, except some restaurants near the Boardwalk, promptly closes at 8 PM. There’s really nothing much to do in Subic except shop and eat, maybe engage in water sports like jet skiing, parasailing, scuba diving if one is inclined to do these sort of things. Honestly the beaches are not that remarkable, but they’re nice enough. I remember the time P and I went there for a day’s excursion. We just did the rounds of the Duty-free shops, ate steaks, then parked our car, windows down, under a tree, facing the sea. The serene environment made me prop my feet up on the dashboard as I allowed the cool sea breezes to lull me to sleep.



By 4 PM we were back again on the road, hoping that we’d reach the North Luzon Expressway before rush hour (this was during the construction of said road. Now, going back and forth to the North is a cinch). What makes the Subic experience even more spectacular is not just getting there, but the journey in getting there. For us the romance starts as we hit the expressway, that wide expanse of road, with the car cruising at the speed of 100 or more kilometers per hour, and driving by bridges that seem to stretch forever, while absorbing the beauty of rural Philippines—the rice fields, the small lakes and tentative waterways, the fruit orchards, the elevations (which never cease to remind me of the time when as a young girl traveling the early mornings with my tatay to visit family in Sta. Lucia or San Fernando, he pointed Mt. Arayat out to me, his voice low and happy, and I remember looking at its outline in the mist, my eyes still cloaked in sleep, and then turning to face my father to smile as if the mountain was a secret we shared), the mud crabs sold in makeshift bamboo stalls from Pampanga to Olongapo, the Razon and Mekeni stores, the various home and religious artifacts sold on either side of the road, each skillfully fashioned/carved by the crafty hands of Kapampangans, and P, energetically jabbering away next to me, telling me story after story, and me, smiling and laughing, my heart full, content, happy, happy.