Life: An Excerpt

Due to some recent circumstances, I have decided to allot just a tiny whiny bit of my time to continuing to write the play that I was supposed to write a zillion years ago. Here’s an excerpt.

Every story is a movie waiting to be made, a hope waiting to be fulfilled, a dream waiting to be realized. Yet one wonders: what story is worth telling the world? Is it one filled with a mountain of hopes and dreams, or one that begins and ends with a tragic, heartbreaking eulogy?

No.

If there’s one thing that I have realized as a writer, it’s that the best story is not one told with the help of innate imagination, but with one’s own heart and mind. That is why the best story that one can tell is a story that needs no creativity and no imagination, for there is nothing more real, more unexpected and more uncreative than the truth.

Life.

Coming Soon.

RAAWR.

Fil 11 Blog #1: Walang Kwenta

Ako’y nagsimula magsulat ng mga kwento nung ako ay siyam na taon pa lamang. Ito ay itinuturi ko na isa sa mga pinakaimportanteng bahagi ng aking buhay, dahil dito ko natuklasan ang isa sa pinakaminamahal kong ‘hobby’: ang pagsusulat ng kwento. Lumawak ang sakop ng aking mga sinusulat nung ako’y tumanda. Hindi lang kwento ang sinusulat ko noon: nasama narin ang mga tula, dula, lyriko at iba pa. Maraming taon ang lumipas na, at dumarating ang panahon na naituri ko nang paraan ng hanap buhay ang pagsusulat, at ito ang dahilan kung bakit napili ko ang aking kursong Kommunikasyon.

Ngunit masasabi kong hindi parin ako ‘magaling’, masasabi ko na ang halos sampung taong karanasan sa pagsusulat ay maari kong itaglay. Pero, medyo nawalan ako ng tiwala sa mga pinagsusulat ko pagkatapos ng diskusyon sa klaseng Filipino nung Huwebes. Bumago ang tingin ko sa mga pinagsusulat ko, at napaisip ako: may silbi pa ba ang mga ginagawa kong kwento? Kwento ba talaga sila? Nung sinabi ng propesor ko sa Filipino na dahil hindi nasasalamin sa mga panitikan na sinusulat ng mga kabataan tulad ko ang mga nasasabing katangian ng panitikan, masasabi kong nawala talaga ang tiwala ko sa mga sinusulat ko. Pero, nagkaroon rin ako ng bagong paningin sa araw-araw kong pagsusulat. Hindi lang ako nagsusulat ng mga iba’t-ibang mga pangungusap, nagiisip rin ako ng malalim kung may tunay na kwenta ba ang bawat pangugusap, ang bawat salita. At dahil dito, labis akong nagpapasalamat na naging paksa sa aming diskusyon ang panitikan. Nagkaroon ako ng nakabagong tingin sa panitikan, at mas binigyan ko ng halaga ang pagsusulat.

Para Kay Ophelia

This is just a random try at writing in Filipino for me. I’m not that good (nor do I think I’m any good at all), but please, indulge my need to practice a bit! thanks ūüôā

Para Kay Ophelia

Mula sa mesa ni: Lorenzo Tolentino Cabral

Ang liham na ito ay iniwan sa tanggapan ni Gabriel Hermano, ang presidente ng kompanyang Hermano Industries, at ang tatay ni Ophelia Hermano, ang aking minamahal na sinta. Inaasahan ko sana na ito ay makarating sa aking minamahal, ngunit kalungkutan ang sumalubong sa akin sa susunod na araw, dahil nalaman ko na si Ophelia pala ay ikakasal na sa isang Amerikano mula naman sa Italya na nangangalang Giovanni Thatcher, kung kaya’t ako ay nagsulat ng isang bagong liham, at ang luma ay ikinuha ko na mula sa opisina at isinunog habang lumipas ang isang mahaba at malungkot na gabi.

Minamahal na Ophelia,

Bukas,maaring pinatay ko na ang sarili ko.

Sinunog ko ang bahay, at nanatili ako doon habang umiiyak, habang hawak ang iyong iisang litrato.

Ngunit, hindi ako ganoong klaseng tao.

Sa totoo lang, Ophelia, hindi lang ikaw ang naging laman ng kaisipan ko araw-araw.

Sa totoo lang, may pangarap din ako.

Hindi ka ba nagtataka kung bakit pinili ko ang Ateneo, ngunit nasa La Salle ka?

Sa tingin mo ba may silbi ba sa akin kung pupunta lang ako doon sa Taft para makasama ka?

Hindi.

Hindi ko tatapunin ang mga pangarap ko para lang habulin ang isang babaeng sinungaling tulad mo.

Pero, hindi ko masasabing nawala ka ng todo sa isipan ko.

Aamin kong nasaktan ako sa ginawa mo. Nasaktan ako sa kasinugalingang sinabi mo sa akin, Ophelia.

Maari kong idaan sa iba’t-ibang paraan ang aking hinagpis, ngunit ito ang pinili ko.

Isusulat ko nalang, Ophelia.

Isusulat ko nalang, para hindi ka na mahiya sa mga leche mong magulang.

Isusulat ko nalang, para hindi mo makalimutan.

Isusulat ko nalang… dahil naalala mo ba, Ophelia?

Naalala mo na liham rin ang rinegalo ko sayo sa Araw ng Mga Puso?

Hindi siguro.

Kasi, may asawa ka na pala.

May nagmamahal na pala sayo.

Isa lang ang masasabi ko, Ophelia, isa lang: gago.

Nagpapaalam,

Lorenzo Teodoro Cabral

It’s one of those nights when it feels like Christmas is close, and yet the disappointing morning follows: enveloping you in an almost oven-like heat that reminds you once more why you dread the Philippine weather. You stuff your green cardigan in your bag, close the zipper and head off, walking as briskly as you can towards the dark corner in between the dingy Chinese restaurant and the ukay-ukay shop where you first found her.

There she is again: this time, sitting on a trash can in the dark corner, her hair disheveled and her eyes down. You tap her shoulder and the girl looks up at you, her plain expression changing from dismay to delight in a mere instant.

“You ready?” she asks, taking out two cigarette-shaped tubes from the pocket of her brown cutoffs. You nod, despite the feeling of reluctance in your throat. You take the tube from her and sit on the trash can next to her.

“On the count of three–” she says. “One–two–…”

‘A Day In the Life’ suddenly plays in your mind, as if by magic. You hear the lyrics and forget the smell of the dark corner and the dumpster. You forget the whore that fed you the drug, and find yourself drifting off into a reality you’ve only read about in books. A reality that you’ve began to embrace, ever since you acquainted yourself with this dark, foreboding world. The same world that welcomed you with open arms and cared for you.

What could be more beautiful?

Nothing.

Nothing New

Forgive the lack of opinion posts on my blog recently, as nothing interesting (in my opinion) has happened in, around and out of this beloved ‘place’ ¬†I call my country. I’ve recently just been putting to words some random bouts of ‘lightbulb’ that I’ve been having these past few days, which haven’t really given me much, and I’m down (I’m really down).:/ Here’s to hoping the next few days will inspire me to continue, finish or at least start some substance-filled pieces. ūüôā¬†

 

Shoes

Portable fraternal twins traverse the world with their masters,

And live together in bland apartments in the shady parts of town. 

They’re the weirdest of friends, but surprisingly, the most loyal.¬†

They come and go as their masters do, but cannot leave as they please. 

 

Their humanistic qualities embrace the ideals that biology dictates. 

As scent wraps the human in a seemingly indelible stench, they too share the pain of smell, the despair of stink.

Ah, shoes.

A reflection of what society dictates, a rule book for the things that make life what it is. 

The simplest, and subtlest form of hierarchical expression.