A slightly edited memo.

Standard

I remember writing this a few months ago while drinking with my ninong at this nice bar in Lagro, Route 21. I highly recommend that place because they have decent sisig and a live band that does old-school covers.

For some reason I felt really lonely that night, and as I didn’t really want to sing (they allowed eager customers to jam along with them), I decided to write this in my phone. This poem was only edited when I started typing it for this post, and even then I didn’t change it a lot, so this version will be very close to how I wrote it while tipsy (minus the typos, of course).


A slightly edited memo.
By Koko Quilatan

I miss feeling remotely human, like
An ignorant little idiot standing
Unsuspecting
To the rest of the world, suspended
In naivete
That would make a straight A schoolgirl
Put in detention blush.

I miss the feeling of being stupid
And not giving two
Rat’s asses about what happened to Korea
Or about what the word “pretentious” meant
And why it was so important to know what it meant,
Especially in the presence of smart acquaintances.
I mean people.

I was told once that being an artist meant
Baring your soul to the rest of the world
And slashing up your heart,
And letting
Aspiration,
Inspiration,
And perspiration flow freely
Between
The pores of your skin.
I only found out recently that you could
Do nothing, absolutely nothing
And it would be considered art.
What would that mean, then, for the rest of us
Meager underlings
To those known as that upper caste system known as
“Artists”?
It meant pissing on the walls of your own home,
And I’m not talking about the bathroom either,
I’m talking
Full-blown
Golden
Showers
Spraying the sides of your so-called postmodern minimalist living room
Complete with wallpaper that came from a Papemelroti store.

I once told a man of my age that he was getting pretty old.
He told me that I was insane for taking to someone of my own age,
Of my own social stature and achievement,
For giving him advice.
My superego interrupted me in the midst of my speech,
And told me
I was being stupid
For handing out advice to a
Reflection
In the mirror.

I once joined a rap music collective and we called ourselves
Ilustrados
Like Rizal and Luna and all those cowards-slash-geniuses
Who left this hellhole.
It was like escaping the
Deadened
Local scene, and it was pretty fun.
We performed at a Christmas party
Where one of us made
The best non-“yo momma” joke of all time.

I took a piss a few seconds after having seen a janitor fish
And a Manny Pacquiao poster
On the way to the restroom.
A room of rest would be nice, and I don’t mean a room to pee in.
I want an actual
Room where to rest.
I want to wake up tomorrow to happiness.

I feel tired of talking in the first person,
But will make to inkling of an attempt to correct my grammaer and sslpegin.
I talk to the ghost of
Hitler’s mustache and it feels bad
After all those years,
So it’s trying to make it up to everyone else through this
Elaborate,
Deeply convoluted
Metaphor about
Nothing in
Particular.

I watched an episode of
Shingeki no Kyojin
Earlier, and I felt disappointed.
I expected more death and destruction
From a series where people are killed with
Gigantic, hyperbolic, clown-faced versions of themsel–
Oh wait no I was watching Japanese cartoons,
(It’s called anime, plebeian.)
How could I not know that?

I realized that you can’t make lemonade from life’s lemons
Because they don’t exist growupandgetarealjob

I experienced a lot of weird responses to me telling people
That I’m a philosophy major,
Ranging from
“Oh, interesting,” to
“Wow what’s it like?” to
“Oh so you’ll be going to law school.” to
“Wow what’s it like facing unemployment?” to
“Oh wow nothing has any meaning, how are you still
Alive?”

I’m in a beerhouse, a house of beer
And that’s not as amazing as you think it is because of all those solicitors.
Believe me, you’d enjoy your cheap beer a lot more
If drinking it didn’t involve a guy with very dirtily-dyed blonde hair
And oversized clothes
Trying to get money from you
And asking your uncle for money.

I got a bit taller recently, I don’t know
If it’s true of it everyone just got shorter because
I can still pee in a urinal from five feet away in the morning after
I wake up.

I remember that I got drunk
For the first time
At my friend’s eighteenth birthday party
And it involved filling up
Two bags of donuts with vomit
And it was really gross.

I’m currently hearing a cover band that doesn’t suck.
The only problem is that they only cover
Easy songs.
I like them a lot though.

I heard the song
“You’re so vain”
And I thought it was about me.

I thought of the phrase
“Different vibes”
And instantly saw a piece of graffiti that said,
“Vibes.”

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