#dodgerino

HEHE THANKU DODGER

She is the sweetest, Her kisses send me reeling. (I’m diabetic.)

What a wonder the future must be! We’ll have automated drones with hardly any compensation for their work (except perhaps for what is needed for maintenance) and I hear that the birth of artificial intelligence will herald a new age Anyway, that’s what they told me in college, during a class I hardly paid attention at (I only studied to pass the exams), the loans of which I’m still paying off with sparse paychecks from my dead-end job.

We've managed to hate each other clear to the other side of knowing; to the point of tabula rasa, a blank slate. Not to say that break-ups are cyclical, but rather, I suppose that in the closure we're free to proceed to erasure. One big fat zero.

dodgerino 

Update! Sorry for the general absence and lack of new posts lately. I’ve been recycling some old works, but the reason for that is because for the past couple of weeks, I’ve been prepping a new piece for a show I’ll be performing at! On Friday, May 8th, I’ll be doing a couple of spoken word poems at the UP College of Architecture, in UP Diliman, Quezon City. Show starts at 6 PM, and it’s honestly gonna be a lot of fun. Some really talented people will be there, and I hope those in the Metro Manila area are able to come through. Hopefully, by next week, I’ll have videos up of my performance. I’ll also be getting back to bring you all new content. Look forward to it! - Dodgerino

So, my grandma is special. Not in the way that everyone’s grandma is special. I mean, she sees things. I remember when I was younger and I was visiting the Philippines for the first time, she took my uncle’s hand and traced over it. And with a knowing eye she looked him over and said: “I’m so happy for you. I know you’re working so hard right now, but it’s going to pay off, anak.” In a few years’ time, that uncle ended up hitting it big with a restaurant he’d started with his friends. Eventually, that became her routine with us. She’d wrap us in the biggest hugs, and just afterwards, hold our hands, regardless of how sweaty they might be. Mom said it was her way of feeling connected with us. Either way, I loved her, and she never passed up the opportunity to show me that she felt the same. She was always so curious about me. Early on, she’d said: “This one. This one has a good heart. And he will have one great love in his life and he’ll never let her go.” And over the years, whenever I’d see her, she’d ask: “Is she here yet? Have you brought her home?” And I’d laugh, and go, no grandma. Not yet, but I’m looking. And she’d never frown or act disappointed. She’d just smile and say, I know my love. I know. She’s still on her way. And I remember one day, when I was twenty one, I brought home the girlfriend I was seeing at the time. And my grandma, she’s just through the roof, ecstatic. “Oh my goodness! Ohhh my goodness, is this the one Johnny?” “I hope so, grandma.” I was really in love with this one. And you know how growing up in America, you kinda have this mindset that you’re going to have to go through a lot of different girls, a lot of crushes and disappointment, until you finally find someone worth sticking it out with? That’s just the way the culture brings you up. But well, I was really happy, because I thought I’d lucked out. I didn’t have to go through so much. Heartbreak was a relative stranger. I’d found the right one early. Well, we both had. She was my first, and I hers. It’s miraculous it worked out that way, really. So I thought I’ll go bring her over to meet my family. And grandma hugs me. And she looks right into my eyes, her hands following my arms until her palms are in mine. And she traces the valleys in my hands. “I knew it. You are going to have one great love. One really great love that is going to spoil you.” She looks over at my girlfriend, and looks her over. And she’s so happy, she wraps her arms tightly around her. And although I’m the one in love, I’m so happy for my grandmother, finally seeing her promises unfold in front of her. And she lets go for a second. And traces my girlfriend’s arms down to her hands. Her fingers trace the webbing between her forefinger and thumb. The cracks between her fingers. The spaces I had measured over countless times. My grandmother disengages, lets go, smiles, and says nothing. She almost wanders haphazardly into the kitchen, but still manages to find a glass, and fill it with water. And... I just don’t get it. I go over to her, and I ask her what’s wrong. She looks up at me, and she’s tearing. She seems frightful. “Two. Two, my love. She’s got two.”