Chapter 2
767 Words
I TOOK A LONG drag until I felt my lungs crumbling. I fixated on the burning sensation then slow-released the smoke. I chain-smoked and went fu/ck all, all because I read about a news clip of a woman ra/ped and slain after being passed around between men who ra/ped her in turns and the medico-legal report showed that the semen found inside her would fill a can of sardines in comparison.
I am in my second box now and it’ll all be over soon in a minute. The stores are closed, the 24-hour store is four blocks away and I will not risk my life just for a box, but I can surely destroy myself if I want to with my preferred vice. I am in control, I repeatedly whispered to myself, I am in control. I am in control. I am present, I am in the now, think, think, think…
I consumed these boxes like it was chocolate. I’ll just get plump with chocolates. While with cigarettes, I feel an active hurt inside, that I can call forth any time I want, like right now, on my second to the last stick. I am burning my life away, but at least I am in control of my emotions. I try not to dwell on it, about the fu/cked news— I will get there — but for now, I try not to tire myself of all the mad and the bad.
The real question is, what can I do? Do I want to die on this mountain? Can I be forgiven of this sick, sick realization, that I am about to commit? Can I be absolved from my sins, the sins of my father and of this world? I have to know, but the answer flashed before I could light my cigarette.
I am of this world, and I can do something about it, but I choose not to.
Where do I go from here?
The answer that crossed: I am like most of the rest who will leave it to the next best asset of mankind. Preferably some strong-armed person who can eat death threats for breakfast.
The smoke escaped when I exhaled sharply.
I didn’t touch the last stick and went back inside my house, took my laptop, edited and put fifteen to twenty stories from the investigation of the ra/pe-slay case and sent it to everyone in my contacts, even those whom I just met last night during the party. At the end of the night, I finally freed my tears.
***
I WOKE UP abruptly when I realized my phone was ringing. I listened on the other end of the line and kept nodding and answered in yeses. The call was short but direct to the point. It was CJ, the frontman, and he called for a meeting.
He created this narration: it was 1993, a powerful official took a liking to a female student who interviewed him for a school paper, had his bodyguards abducted her after the interview while with her boyfriend then brought her to a second location where they ra/ped her and killed them, and found their bodies days later.
CJ said his goal was to launch an album called 1993 with the same number of songs like their other albums and have everyone create content based on the narrative, its energy, and the truth behind it that will push this project forward.
I was one of the writers invited there. There were painters, musicians, marketing, the whole shebang, present in the room. I’ve never felt so powerful until this moment. I felt like I was given this project to unleash the rage and uncover the dirt of these asses toying with their people.
CJ, one of the brains behind this project, specifically asked the creatives of the music and art dept to create beats and mixes and poster and art based on this rough list:
1. Rooster (with sidenote: 1993, year of the rooster)
2. Amazon
3. Worlds (with sidenote: being poor is expensive. borders)
4. Psalm 22 (with sidenote: why are you so far from saving me?)
5. Fest your eyes (with sidenote: feast your eyes, enjoy this festival, confessed through eyes)
6. Rain-stay (with sidenote: mondegreen)
7. Common unity (with sidenote: We love this community, stay safe)
8. We the people
9. Jester seats the throne (with sidenote: fu/ck ‘em clown officials)
10. Slow down, man, but don’t stop
11. Marilag (with sidenote: marilag, adj, Tagalog, majestic, you)
12. Easy circus (we)
- Writer
