Nostalgia as sounding board

Dear Jazz,

Men accumulate more ignorance than they can assimilate and people are bundled of prejudices wrapped in misinformation and tied together with rubber bands of mistakes. (Louis Ginsberg)

So who ever said I'm no longer cynical? All this time I've been preaching radical positivism, but when push comes to shove, I'm as neurotic a person as they come. Only death as surcease from paradox can fully heal me of this affliction by the modern man. God, the world is full of dreary fools. Unfortunately, I'm one of them. Of course, you' agree with me when I say that most people are candidates for self-restraint. It's like a wounded animal convention everytime two people decide to be in one place together.

Sometimes, I'm such a nutcase, I can't even begin to keep up.

Now, I'm sure you're asking yourself where the beef is. Either that or you've given up on this odious letter at the first sentence. Well, perhaps I've become sick unto death of talking about myself, or I've lost the ability to hide my own boredom, or this is simply a high blood pressure anger attack. It's frustration, mostly, at the humungous amount of ignorance that still persists in our society up to this day. Exegetes: did you know that there's an abundance of so-called "bisexuals" in Gumaca? When I asked pointblank one particular proclaimer how many times within the last 12 months he has had intimate relations with a woman, the answer is zero. How many men? Well, let's just say definitely more than 1. Still, he insists he is bisexual since gays here are still thought of as limp-wristed, beauty-parlor inhabitants. It's so damn incomprehensible! My eyes are shrink-wrapped in tears over this arteriosclerosis of views in a supposedly post-modern culture, I'm just about ready to strangle myself.

Too bad...he could have been a really viable prospect. I told you it was frustration.

More anon. With love always.

As we speak exploring

Dear Tina,

If you are the other sputnik*, then that probably makes me the metaphysical sputnik, being that I'm vicariously exploring Visayas and Mindanao through you. It has been two weeks since you left for that trip, and almost a month now since we last saw each other.

Well, you might as well know that I've been doing a little exploring of my own, albeit less geographically and more in terms of the unexplored regions deep within my psyche. Well, during one of these onerous contemplations, and this is quite relevant to another exploration I'm planning to engage in within the next couple of weeks, I suddenly realized that you were particularly against my reaching out and rekindling my friendship with Jigs. What gives? And although your opinion in this matter would not necessarily change my mind, as I have been known, from time to time, to go against your wishes (I am Cam Barros, after all--disappointing friends since 1975), I still am curious enough to know the reason behind these recently voiced objection. Another addition then to the growing list of topics we are going to shred to unrecognizable pieces next time we meet.

One more thing, please remind me the next time to be careful with what I wish for. A few days ago, I was silently lamenting the fact that after Paul and I broke up, my life seems to be suffering from a remarkable dearth in drama. Cut to last night: My brother and I having a minor argument, which escalated to a point wherein he physically pushed me rather unnecessarily, thereby resulting to a potential death by aquarium episode. It was straight out of a scene from Wysteria Lane, wherein psycho-needs-to-enroll-in-an-anger-management- program older brother turns on younger brother over a very miniscule legal argument, it was almost hysterical. Well, I'm still reeling over the incident as much from its melodramatic aspect as to the fact that it happened over something so silly it might as well have been the Marco Sison song "My Love Will See You Through." Go figure.

Now the previous disclosure is only noteworthy in that it compelled one of my mini-orations to emerge from the filing cabinet. Worse, it may just have roused my recently-dormant desire to flee. So much so that joining you and Ron in the last leg of your trip is becoming an extremely attractive prospect. Only, I might just extend that to a couple of years short of a death sentence. As such, restlessness has returned like a solid ray of consciousness shooting through my body.

I miss you, Tina. Suddenly, two weeks seems like such a long time. Come back soon.

More anon. With love always.

_______________________________

* See http://lostsputnik.blogspot.com

Aphoristic attempt

Dear Jigs,

How does one pick up from where one left off when it's no longer a certainty when and where that is? I may have already found myself, yet memory is such a vast labyrinth where one can still occasionally get lost. In desperate need of a milestone, I inevitably proceeded to ransack my drawers. And there, heaped amongst scraps and pieces that have refused all these years to hatch oblivion lay a memoranda written at a time when the taints I wore were barely noticeable. Funny now that I never realized how all along, this was my map in pursuit of the elusive. But I guess I was then too inadequately equipped to navigate through it. As a result, I avoided it like a turbuent sea to prevent myself from drowning in its depths. Alas, I was doomed to spiral down a seemingly endless series of nearmisses until one day, I woke up with my world strewn about me in pieces. Still, the map remained accumulating cobwebs inside my drawer. In the process, I had to take the longest route possible to get to where I am now.

Now, my world is as good as new, fate has become kinder, and the map has chosen to resurface reminding me that yes, things do eventually fall into their proper and predestined places. In all the pointless chaos that is this letter, I really only have one thing I needed to come across: gratitude, the same as that expressed in the said map-memoranda. Gratitude that you waited on the sidelines while I go about getting my shit together. Gratitude for the map, notwithstanding my constant neglect, both of the map and our friendship. And gratitude for being polite to all previous statements. I know the whole thing is as tedious as a warm Hallmark greeting followed by a gun in the head. But hey, I never did say I changed for the better.

Anyway, I still owe you dinner for missing your birthday party last month. Do take me up on that the next time I'm there.

More anon. With love always.

Hushed

Dear Glenn,

"You are such a masochist," said a voice inside my head. Somehow, I found it in myself to disagree. I mean, I don't exactly get any satisfaction whatsoever in grammatically bitchslapping myself to hell and back at every opportune moment. This is just my nature; the way I am put together. I believe this is what's keeping me grounded, considering I've always felt that I am genetically predisposed to arrogance. And with that tediously predictable disclaimer out of the way, let us proceed, shall we?

Aside from a well-thought text message, you never did officially respond to my previous letter. So I just decided to pick up from where I left off and continue with this prospectively one-sided correspondence.

So where, rhetorically, was I? Well, I know where I am, but do you? We never did get to meet up the last time I was there, did we? And here the questions stop. I can actually take a hint, you know. It appears you need some space. That said, it's now being freely given with complete understanding and without any ill whatsoever.

You know where to find me.

More anon when you want it. With love always.