Friday, July 5, 2013


AFTER all these years, the word “loneliness” still confuses—and fascinates—me... I know what it means in all its definitions and angles and symmetries and conveyances (and all that stuff) yet I can't seem to figure out how to work this innate human/emotional “response to isolation” around truths that I have evolved with/in. Years ago, a lovely lady told me, like a serene drape of sun onto a cold bed of grass: “I am very lonely, want to come over and spend time with me?” Surely, I know what it meant... Loneliness cuts deep and I was hoping that it'd evoke a need that transcends the warmest of sexual engagement. But in no time that I realized—over and over and over again—that “I am lonely” is more like a “distress call at night,” a sweet but outward invite to simply get naked together and not be physically alone.

      Two phrases that offended me big time and still is: “Wanna fuck me?” and “I just wanted to fuck you.” I tried my best to go around these, but I still go back to my primitive cheesiness, yes I am a cold “age of inquisition” bitch. Who refuses sex anyways, right? I am not saying “fucking” is bad. It is not. It is only a matter of time—following more moments beyond the bedroom, backseat of a car, or wherever—when “fucking” becomes “making love.” I'd go for that ride... Problem is, how do we go pass the kick-off intrigue, the initial heat of the night?
     Oh yes, people have things to do after sweat and sweetness have been consumed in bed... It seems that is the rule more than exception. “Loneliness” is a fleeting vacuum (sic!) that happens, it happens and it is filled up by having another fill it up, at a given moment. (Sarcasm, yes.) When I was very young (but not a virgin, okay?) I wrote a song with the lyrics that go: “Love is two sets of loneliness—needing, wanting, filling each other...” But I knew at that time “filling each other” wasn't few hours at night, or even an entire day in a bedroom, shared few and far in between when “loneliness” strikes again. “Filling each other” is a beautiful human response to connection, togetherness, friendship... A warm entanglement in a room, sheets ruffled and moans consumed, is a beautiful entry point to a lasting relationship.
      Moreover, friendships and family make us warm, they fill us up... Remember the Cherokee who survived the trail of tears--amidst winter cold and atrocious war? They saved themselves by being with each other and with the body and the spirit of the buffalo. Cold and loneliness--strike most--in the heart of darkness, not outside of it. Just don't be lonely. If you are physically alone--write, paint, sing, cook, create. Meet people. The thought that you will share what you created to the world later when spring sun rises again (or even if rain or snow keep on falling), will make you warmer than ever. And yes, the only way not to be alone or feel the fangs of loneliness cut through you—is fill someone up as you allow yourself to be filled. From one night to 1001 days...

--Pasckie Pascua
from, "My Life as a Greyhound"

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

WHEN do we need a friend?

I HAVE a very primitive reflex or instinctive response when it comes to friendships and relationships. Friendship... We need a friend when we are ailing and sick, we need a heart to cook a hot kale soup or wash/change the beddings; or when the oven doesn't work or the DVD player needs cleaning, we need a handy dude to get things fixed. Or when words don't fall or the canvas remains blank, we need a sweet distraction to ruffle our clouds and entice the muse to come back in; or when the blue, blue sky simply gets too dark for the full moon to watch over us, we need that silly, little joke that immediately casts sunshine onto our gloomy imaginings...

     Unfortunately, we close our doors exactly, precisely during those moments: when colds seep through the veins, we fear passing the virus; when the stove conks out, we don't bother a hand that doesn't ask for dollars paid for hours served; when a poem doesn't shape, we shut the door and even shut the earth's biological clock for 100 percent privacy; when the blue sky turns pitch black, we just succumb deep in the catacomb of our isolated darkness.
     But then, a friend is one who risks infection for an ailing soul, one who finds joy in smearing his hands to heal another human being, one who inspires a beautiful song to blossom out of a puddle of mud, one who pulls up the blinds and allows a streak of wonderful sun to pass through the cracks of our triple-locked windows.
     Friendship is easy... like how a heart beats to guide a reasonable mind, or how a spirit hovers through the snow-caped agony of the woods to survive a speck of warmth between trees. That is all we need, that is all that matters. But a friend is hard to find because we seem to enjoy the detached confusion of lostness.  

--PPASCUA, from “My Life as a Greyhound”