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#occupythepage, The 2011-2012 Philippine Collegian Anthology Call for Submissions



At a time when revolutions are born in cyberspace and global thought is summarized in hashtags, the artist is in limbo: empowered by a supposed democratization of culture but now rendered more placeless (useless?) than ever. And in the advent of a worldwide expression of rage against greed, who else but the artist must sound the alarm?

The Philippine Collegian, the official weekly student publication of UP Diliman, is now accepting submissions for its upcoming literary folio. Short fiction, poems, essays, and graphic fiction in English and Filipino are welcome. We are also accepting photographs and artworks.

Email your submissions as an attachment (.rtf for texts and .png or .jpeg for images, at least 300 dpi) with a short bionote to kulelitfolio@gmail.com or bring them to our office, Room 401 Vinzons Hall, UP Diliman. The deadline for submissions is March 15.

PS. Marjo and I will be editing! With some help from Jayson Fajarda and Caloy Piocos. Submit!
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I miss you, LJ. :)

I think I will go back to you soon, prodigal son-, player who eventually settled-style.
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    Eagles - Desperado
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If you know any Collegian alumnus who might be out of the loop:

More than writing

Was bullied by Melane to come up with something, to boost publicity and shit. Please disseminate!
  • Current Music
    Adele - One and Only
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Kiligz powhz.

Beautiful night; the poet whose collection I did my final paper on not only asked for my number, she asked me to send her my paper, and, upon leaving, approached me to say goodbye and make beso. A couple hours earlier, newly arrived Kat was like, "Hello! 'Di ba ikaw si Mabi David?" HAHAHAH. Starstruck! Tongue-tied. She was so nice! Calm, calm. Also: new literary crush, but will shut up about that. After Ilyong's, went over to fetch Alaysa for celebratory yogurt because Ninotchka Rosca commented on her status on Facebook. Then went over to watch Norwegian Wood with Alan. Bought pan de sal with chunky peanut butter. Beautiful night! Thanks for the company, Tin!

Thanks for the beer, and good luck, Chingbee!

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    Adele - I Found a Boy
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Rain at 4:30 in the morning, and this:



which sounds, for some reason, dear Adele, victorious-empty. Pyrrhic, almost. Like the boy she found can make her happy, but he can't take the gloom out of her. Oye, overreading. Nothing in the text suggests so. But the tone, the tone. Going for calm, obviously, and maybe smugness, but crossing over to something else. A ewan.

There is always someone

At some point, the city becomes his lover, traffic his lullaby, torrential rain a surprise burst of emotions running down pavements, its damp cheeks. He tells the driver his destination, a word meaning intelligent, then a big hospital as additional clue. But in the coffee shop he cups the warmth like the concave of someone’s mouth and the city beyond the sweaty glass becomes a memory. There is always someone in the vicinity whose warmth he thinks of: the one behind the expensive laptop, the one buried in books, the one who is always there, in that spot near the terra cotta pots, as familiar as the various routes available in case of flooding, in case of unusually heavy volume of cars on the road. He imagines taking the seat across him with the boldness that only intimacy affords, a swell of love, a cursory “Where were we?” and the many words we assign to the task of continuing where we left of.

Grrr. Chingbee-wannabee!

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    Adele - I Found a Boy
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Stuffs XXII

  • Am writing a lyric sequence. Hmm, really like how that sounds. Also, like the requirement itself, surprised as we all were that will be workshopping a series of poems, and not disparate ones. To prepare for it, took up sequences by Shakespeare, Donne, Rilke, Hughes, Sexton, Olds, and Gluck. Lots of Gluck. Requirement is 20 poems with thematic center and movement and shit. Myth with confession. Calendrical, chronological, or narratological. Plot or depth.
  • Prof warned that will be an obsessive project. Something that requires prolonged dwelling. Was told to stay out of topics that can push selves toward brink of insanity, e.g., one's distant father, one who got away, etc. So decided to do Bakla in the City sequence. Hope not as frivolous as it sounds, though. "City" is ongoing preoccupation, while bakla will, oversimplification aside, be about being tiny fish in ocean of gayness, i.e., search for love, sex, happiness, etc. Afraid it won't be as personal as necessary, but that is the point.
  • Have to come up with 3 poems by Wednesday. Oh dear. Maybe will recycle poems? Is it not self-plagiarism?
  • To prepare for grueling process, have been reading poem sequences and listening to Adele's 21 album. Starting to contemplate on - brr - past attempts at love, and happiness and, today, being alone in no uncertain terms. O lord. Finally see what prof means. But maybe will end sequence on positive note: like how 21 ends with I Found a Boy. See? Positive.
  • Meanwhile, deadlines for fiction and nonfiction workshops also this week. Fiction (non-realist) is lame attempt at speculative, alternate reality about reversed political pecking order. Non-fic is about Cubao, and the city's violence rendered unseen by its ubiquity. Prepared to get criticism that non-fic doesn't have enough I, and prepared to yell to rest of class, That is the bloody point.
  • Planned, in this barrage of requirements, to banish self from online stuff, although option rendered impossible as works are submitted and even critiqued online. Grr.


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    Adele - I Found a Boy
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--

Sa ‘yo, kaibigan
(Kay A)

Alam mo naman ang halina ng pag-upo
sa lupa sa panahong ito, kung kailan
ginugupo tayo ng mga dambuhalang
nakatayo at nakatitig nang may buong
pagmamalaki. Ang tawag ng paglapit
sa lupang unang gumuhit ng kapalaran
bago tayo umibig, at inibig, nagkamali
sa pinili, at winaglit ng pumili sa atin.
Alam mo rin ang maglakad sa dilim
nang may kamay sa palad, at tinig sa
taingang nagsasabing, “Masdam mo
ang buwan sa langit at pakadamhin
ang init ng katawan, at lamig ng ihip.”

Ngunit ngayong nasasadlak sa bukas
na walang tugon, sa paglisan na walang
pag-amin, kaibigan, alam mo naman
ang mga paraan at daan tungo sa akin,
ang mga pasilyo at siwang na hindi
kailanman ipipinid upang madaluyan
ng iyong luha, tumulo man ito sa lupa
o iwaglit sa hangin. Sa isang buntong-
hininga ako ay darating, bitbit hindi
ang pangakong maaampat ang sugat,
ngunit ang pagsalok sa dugo upang
inumin at magpalakas sa pagal na 
pusong iibig muli, at iibig, at iibig.


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  • Current Music
    Amy W. - Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow
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Stuffs XXI

So:
  • My friends know: when I'm feeling restless, worthless, and other-less (aw), I like planning trips and itineraries. Knowing what I know now, it's an attempt to visualize space and distance and perspective. Then someone alerted me to a Cebu Pacific promo and voila! I am headed to Cagayan de Oro in October. Have alerted Philline! Excited! Whee! Although:
  • Booking for one. The story of my life.
  • On second thought, maybe should've checked academic calendar first. Hope no finals stuff scheduled. Speaking of which, the three workshop classes I have this sem have decided to play a trick on me, i.e., pegging all workshop slots/submissions on August 5. Awesome. Hoping for a three-tracked mind.
  • A poem:

    The Garden
    Louise Glück

    I couldn’t do it again,
    I can hardly bear to look at it—

    in the garden, in light rain
    the young couple planting
    a row of peas, as though
    no one has ever done this before,
    the great difficulties have never as yet
    been faced and solved—

    They cannot see themselves,
    in fresh dirt, starting up
    without perspective,
    the hills behind them pale green,
    clouded with flowers—

    She wants to stop;
    he wants to get to the end,
    to stay with the thing—

    Look at her, touching his cheek
    to make a truce, her fingers
    cool with spring rain;
    in thin grass, bursts of purple crocus—

    even here, even at the beginning of love,
    her hand leaving his face makes
    an image of departure

    and they think
    they are free to overlook
    this sadness.
  • Packed day tomorrow. Raket in Makati at 9, then class at 1 until 7, then Philline in Katips/everywhere else until 5 the following day. Worse, will be in corporate attire the whole time, unless get the energy to haul nice shirt, shorts, and tsinelas (highly doubt it).
  • Alan asked about plans for second sem and mind was blank. Oh no, are we back to direction-less malingering? I thought-- Need compass. Or paperweight. Or another. So sad.


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  • Current Music
    Emmylou H. - A Love That Will Never Grow Old