Letter from carrie

I deeply mourn the loss of the country and the world over the passing of Madame Corazon Cojuangco Aquino. She was known as Cory all over. And she personified what might not be the perfect epitome of a human being, but the perfection and mastery of faith and ideals, friendship and humanism.

My friend carrie is seriously agonizing over something so profound and powerful. I can’t fault her. There are always two sides to a coin.  That she saw that manolo of a guy as a mutual friend was telling me, and the glib purveyor of borrowed schisms saying over national television that the cadaver was not given full state honors. And he was cut off by the television host. Quite a snap, but the slip showed. The opposition in a haphazard dream state, wanted to use the cadaver and coffin to either kill the madam Arroyo or throw her head first into Pasig River or have her run over by the mob or the mob’s hakot vehicles so they can take over. Intensely unnerving!!! To think that the family might have allowed that except for some cooler heads that prevailed. Civil society! Church, god-loving people! Pweeh!!!

 

dear allevi,

oy vey! how is the trip to italy? i’m mad at you, you left without saying goodbye and calling in the middle of the night to say you’ve been a week away, huh?!!?

and you’re back and you didn’t brung me choco, whaaaaat?!!?!

and i’m sitting at starbucks without anyone to talk to and suddenly this cute guy, maniac looking, is hitting on me, excuuuse me sir!  the thing inside my panties are not made for.. sheeeeet!

i’ve been counting sheep since you left and now arrived. done that, been doing that, still doing that, damn!!!

i cannot sleep.  it has been more than five days and i am still awake.  all i manage to do to appease my body is allow it a few minutes’ nap and i am startled awake again. then on to waking once more, i think i will die lev, i think that i am dying!

no one will be there to help me. no one will be there to care. no one will be there to console me, well, there’s you and him, but i cannot imagine how you and him could actually spend or waste time with me, whatever.

it’s only just because of this creep (i placed creep’s pic below). i love him. i love him so hard and so much it pains me so. the only one closest to me, is dead now. the creep’s hired him and eleven others via the liberal party to be his bright boys.

they served him and truly served him well. my closest one died in a freak accident in edsa during independence day!  aw shit! and double shit! not the police can help us his family to find out how that goddam thing happened.  where is the culprit? the police cannot say. i dare not ask.  i have nothing to give. the police. they suck, they’re shit!!!  no?  well i know only one or two that have a brain and heart in the right places. but the rest of them? they’re devils. demons.

anyway, creep affected me so much these past few days my chest was going to burst. what am i saying? i am depressed, i am in distress, i am exceedingly sad, terribly lonely, i am out of my wits, i am panicking, i am suicidal but am an obnoxious coward, i can try to kill myself but the greater agony of not dying scares me!!!

oh lev, what has come upon me?

 this creep like closest one, is beloved, beloved, too beloved to me.  nothing in this world can change that. closest one used to say, “kung tutuusin, boss ko si ninoy. pero natatakot ako mag presidente siya dahil kahit ang pamilya niya, kaibigan niya lalo na ang mga kaaway niya, ika nila benggador daw. kasi kapampangan, eh. dugong aso daw.”

 what the hell!!!  closest one could have been right or might have been wrong, too.  but i loved the creep!!!  he is the only one, well, aside from his brod in upsilon sigma phi who i truly worship.

 From the tales of closest one, when creep was still crawling this earth, he lived a full life. he had his brod, and his other brods in upsilon to look after him. of course, there were the politicians and the superpower united states government that had various and several interests in him. nasty, some or most of them.

but creep beloved one, really had the mettle of a great one. everywhere he went, he earned adulation. at 16 or thereabouts, after being drafted by the manila times, he was already writing for a u.s. newspaper and was even sent to cover significant foreign events.

beloved creepy was a genius, if you ask me. of course, that’s not the only thing that made me love him so much.

closest one never saw me grow up. he was dad to me, of course, he was also dad to many other children of different moms.

and closest one, was always with my beloved creep.  most of the time, anyways.  when the liberal party had no other need for his services.

one time, when creep and closest one were in a cebu hotel, closest one caught one of the osmenas and monching mitra both naked in one of the hotel rooms they took for that engagement.  creep said to closest one, let the incident just pass and it just did.

with a father. even a mom, since my mom left us because closest one spent more time with creep and friends than with family.

creep might even have gone to our house in the province, if i recall correctly. but i was too young at the time to even remember the vaguest semblance of a visit by someone like creep, a senator of the realm, an important figure. i was never one for politics, lev you know that.

what affects me, is killing me, about creep is something out of his politics or closest one’s politics, for that matter.

he is so forgotten and so unloved. of course there were so-so 2 million daw who went to the parade on his journey to the grave. but they might as well just as well been the ones that murdered him mercilessly on the tarmac of manila international airport. of course in a well-documented non-fiction book, the cousin of the wife of creep’s was the one together with a now-dead-and-buried psychopath general of marcos and a few (three or four) others including at least two from the us embassy were the planners of the murder of creep.

he put himself in jail, despite the protestations of brod.  but brod gave his family the money anyway for sustenance.  then brod let him go with the americans to the united states. to live in boston, massachussets.  and he got a supposed teaching or lecturing job. but brod he called from pay phones like a secret agent every now and then.  and then 100,000 dollars arrived each time. of course the calls were not only for the money.  creep also called brod to tell him of other things besides. problems, good news, gossip and intelligence, new things in the us, politics, politics, and more politics!!!  pwe!!!

whatever.  creep of course had that standing arrangement with brod that he will be the next president of the philippines.  surely that was a closely held secret. even the wife who back in quezon city never bothered to offer a glass of water or coffee to closest one and was always wearing her duster day in and day out, playing mah jong with her amigas y amigos, pa daan-daan lang sa bisita ni creep, closest one used to narrate. that wife, is the late wife now. but i bet she knew. she knew that the creep arranged with brod to become the next philippine chief executive.  na!!!

it’s a nice day outside always. cold.  wet.  very unsummerly already. it’s now rainy days. and my heart aches and spasms at remembering all the stuff about creep because his name is on television, radio, print, all of a sudden, just because i-don’t-bother-with-anyone-except-mah jong died. shit!!!  and double shiiittt!!!

i wonder where that dolly nazareno and monchy biazon are, of course joe quirino the greatest pinoy host of all time is now dead. but are dolly, monchy and the rest of mahjongeras still all alive? well dolly’s husband at least won himself a post in crame by a pung of dolly his wife. and pong won himself a chief of staffship at  do not begrudge why the fuck everyone’s all gaga about the wife of my beloved creep! i mean they go to all the lengths to use a dead body to kill or bangkokize, nepalize, if not, as the case maybe, venezualize a sitting president.

the ogres know a lot surely, the trolls, the leprechauns and the laman lupas. and they’re rousing luzipero and signor satanino from sleep (does he – she sleep anyway)?  they’re flashing that ugly demonic sign of el. aw sheet!  i’m truly bothered in my sleep, aren’t you lev dearest?

those greedy for power wannabes, they won’t let the country alone. look at that moustachioed man who wanted a piece of the money of the brod of beloved creep? he killed nida blanca that actress, for a slice of the pie c/o justina tantoco who went back to the killers to retrieve her calling cards. daft!!!  supercriminal their lot!!! and they stick together like glue, don’t they? it’s been all over the place, their wonderful marriage and loving alliance. of course, it’s been there for a long time, they were just hiding it. courtesy of manolingling the idiot savant of channel 2.

idn’t they notice, the heavens frowned the moment the ugly duck was paraded? and they’d started to froth in the mouth and spit-spew those devilish words of alsa-salsa, revo-reforma, overthrow of d’ etat!  ooovvvvvveeeeeeerrrr!!! sheeeeet!!! they must be good at tedious, extended masturbation, don’t you think?

of course the children of my beloved creep had to receive brod’s children at the funeral at that old church in intramuros. brod kept them all, wife and beloved creep as well as the children alive with 100,000 dollars every now and then. the family owed brod bigtime. what is to give the children of brod a little smile for showing up in the funeral?

 no one is saying anything outside of reconciliation. reconciliation for huwhaat? a joining of forces against gma? in a coup d’ etat? in making a bangkokish or caracasish or kathmanduish revolt? bullshit!!! fuck you coryistas! fuck you all to hell!!!

 why didn’t the madam of brod come to that funeral? she said of course that all is forgiven and that she was praying for the dead and soon to be buried (now actually deep sixed, thank god in heavens!!!)

so lev, can you find a way to tell all those nincompoops and coños, opportunistas, satanistas, demoños, demoñas, demoñitos, demoñitas, salvajes, quarajos, to stop spewing their bad odor, bad breath, stinking dramas, cheap slapstick, fucking unfamas award ham acting, cry-crying over teevee and saying they’ll take over this country?
carrie
if i meet that humdinger nymphomaniac whose roots are in creep’s wife (who wanted to divorce him since 1980) that was gaga and all agog over long penises, and who suffers from oedipalian disease — always wanting to have sex with very old men (how dare!!!) shit me not but i’ll clobber her to the ground!!!  follow your fucking mama to hell, i’d say!!!
i can’t sleep. because you dare not give me rest. you dare to disturb my peace. the wife of beloved creep used to say, i am cory. i am ngo.
i say to them: well fuck you and your fanatics!!! i am the people, i am the country!!!