Rockstar dreams fulfilled...somewhat

So that's what it's like to be a rockstar

A couple of weeks ago found me up onstage with a microphone in front of me at Mag:Net Katipunan, one of the steady hangouts of budding artists and musicians. But, instead of bursting out into song, I had the pleasure of reading aloud a poem and an excerpt of a short story I wrote. Yeah yeah, not very rock star-ish, I know, but it was close enough. It was the culmination of the four-week "hanging out" writing class I attended facilitated by Sir Krip Yuson. Alongside the "hanging out" songwriting class under Cynthia Alexander, we were asked to read our works aloud in front of a good-size audience.


Rock star mode


With "classmates" Caroline Howard and Timi Nubla and "prof" Sir Krip Yuson after the reading

Mag:Net is offering the same hanging out classes next month, I think. I might sign-up again. I highly recommend others do so too. There are worse ways to spend Saturday afternoons than "hanging out" with writers, songwriters, musicans and other artists. I think they added a scriptwriting workshop conducted by Ricky Lee.

And in the interest of providing my readers (yes, all four of you) with a semblance of what I learned in class (and on the off chance the person I wrote it for will get to read it) here's the poem I read during our, er, "graduation." (Keep in mind that I consider myself more of a prose guy. I'm a bit uncomfortable writing poetry, and I'm the first to dismiss lovey-dovey poems on longing and heartbreak, but this one practically wrote itself. Plus if Sir Krip thought it was good enough to be heard by a roomful of complete strangers, then who am I to judge?)

Jill

The sheets are crumpled and restless
the pillows downcast and forlorn.
The journal I keep on the nightstand table
Is tear-smudged, exhausted and torn.

I wish I could turn you off
as easily as the lightswitch
near my bed
because then
I won't have to worry
about going to sleep
and seeing you in my head
almost in a hurry
without my consent

Throwing punches underwater
casting nets in a fishless sea
I dread the thought of sleep tonight
When I see only you, not me.