Emo for a cause

I WAS invited by Anne Calma to Conspiracy this past Friday to read an excerpt from “He’d Rather Be Relevant.” It was a “Rock for Guimaras” event; poets and musicians performed to help raise funds for the cause. I was sort of the opening act.

Cindy went along with me; JC and his 17-year-old cousin (whose name eludes me right now) met us there.

Reading from a piece about cancer seemed a bit extraneous in an event for an environmental cause. I intentionally chose a segment that epitomizes the message of “relevance” in the piece—relevance we were all displaying that night, lending our voices, talents, and support to an important cause.

I was into my second bottle of Red Horse when an organizer summoned me to the stage—alcohol pretty much ridding me of any potential nerves.

A poet I am not. But I read three pages of “He’d Rather…”—the three pages with the most emphatic use of cuss words—as I remembered Gelo Suarez performing a month or so ago at Mag:net, as I remembered Lourd De Verya reading poetry during Palanca night, as I remembered Ricky Abad reading Bien Lumbera verses a few hours earlier at an on-campus event honoring the National Artist.

I think I did well. That was the consensus among those I talked to after. A bottle goes a long way in easing nerves, though JC did notice how I read kind of fast.

A girl in attendance approached me after I went off stage. She asked for a copy of the entire piece. Her brother’s fighting cancer. She was moved by my piece—or at least three pages of it.

So the few minutes on stage managed to strike a chord. Mission accomplished, I suppose.

I went back to our table where Cindy and I ordered more and more bottles as we listened to more poets and bands, including Salamin, EO Marcos’ band whose vocalist is Paolo Valenciano. (EO's a friend from Reedley.)

Cindy and I haven’t been having the best of weeks individually in our personal lives so we settled for some good old-fashioned drowning. Long after JC and his cousin left, Cindy and I had “emo-ed” ourselves to sitting on the floor of the semi-enclosed smoking room with empty beer crates stacked behind us and hard rock musicians sitting on chairs while sharing the table that loomed over our heads.

Cindy and I made sure we bought “Rock for Guimaras” T-shirts (I didn’t have to pay entrance so might as well, I thought) before heading back to Katipunan for more cheesy sentimentality over burgers and fries at McDo.

It was nearing 2AM by the time I got home.

…………

Just finished reading Butch Dalisay’s Killing Time in a Warm Place. Great book. Insightful look into the optimism, confusion, struggles, triumphs, and disappointments of what I think is our greatest generation.

Too bad little has changed. So sad the paralyzing lack of vigor in my own generation.

…………

Belated Happy Birthday to Ada (September 23)!

“Perhaps there’s / Something to be said of the number 23, or the mere 29 / Days that separate our births. Maybe there’s significance / In complimenting inclinations towards the cadence of combining / Words and the lively lucidity of images. Or perhaps / There’s just something binding about the power of conversation / (or the poverty from losing P500 to an old lady in front / Of Quiapo Church).”

I’ll give you the rest of your birthday poem when I see you.