#biguine

[sonicandvisualsurprises]

1948

[ozkar-krapo]

Orchestre Antillais CARAÏBANA

"Aux Antilles"

(10". RCA. 1955) [FR]

[sonicandvisualsurprises]

1960

Found this charming track in @luvmesumus's audio archive. What appealed to me was her powerful, exprressive vocals and the warm rhythms.

Unfortunately, I couldn't find any black and white photos of her to add to my collection of female vocalists over @vintageblackandwhiteportraits.

If anyone knows where I might find some, please let me know. Thanks

Lola Martin - Z'Affè Co Ida

[fidjiefidjie]

Bon Soir 🕺🎸🍹💃

La Compagnie Créole 🎶 Ma première biguine partie

[mmepastel]

Coup de cœur pour un parfum ! Ça faisait longtemps !

J’ai commandé quelques échantillons généreux sur la boutique de la maison Jardins d’écrivains (ô surprise, ça m’attirait !), et dans cette maison de parfumerie fondée par Anaïs Biguine, la branche qui m’intéressait davantage était celle nommée Chapel Factory, pour son côté mystique et l’échantillon de L’eau d’épine que j’avais pu sentir grâce à la box de Au Parfum (et qui est vraiment original et beau). Je trouve cette marque extrêmement cohérente et attirante : une sorte de recherche autour de l’ingrédient phare et central, l’encens. Que j’ai toujours aimé. Il se décline ici en plusieurs fragrances originales et assez radicales. La maison propose des bougies, des compositions à brûler, comme pour une cérémonie sacrée mystérieuse.

Ermit Coat est le plus osé : il sent la fumée, le brûlé, il est austère comme il se doit, et vieillit bien sûr ma main. Il évoque vaguement Serge Noire de Lutens que j’ai tant aimé avant qu’il ne devienne un parfum inabordable, mais il n’en a pas la richesse.

Heresy est très intéressant, avec des notes poivrées, et un soupçon de vétiver.

Baptisma est plus souriant, avec pourtant trop de verveine et un côté un peu synthétique qui m’a déplu.

J’ai été très séduite par Pura Lux, sans doute grâce au jasmin et au musc, je l’ai en effet trouvé lumineux, assez addictif sur mon biceps droit.

Mais le coup de foudre, je l’ai eu sur mon dernier essai, biceps gauche, le dernier né de la marque : Oud Pagode. Les ingrédients sont notés ci-dessus. Ceux que je sens réellement sont le thé noir, la poudre de riz, le musc et la fumée. Je sens bien du bois, mais que ce soit de l’oud ou du bois de cachemire, je veux bien le croire, sans les identifier. En tous cas, ce que j’aime, c’est que cet oud, normalement associé en parfumerie à de l’opulence orientale est ici subtil et tiré vers le zen : il est doux comme une caresse, accompagné de notes qui le situent en parfait équilibre entre amertume (celle du thé) et sucre (le riz ? Le bois ?), honnêtement je ne sais pas ce qui en fait la magie, mais c’est un parfum complètement addictif, qui a même quelque chose de régressif pour moi, comme si il me rappelait quelque chose de l’enfance, quelque chose d’évident, de déjà su. Un haïku ? Ce serait facile comme image ; et pourtant, il y a un peu de ça, comme une fausse simplicité, ce n’est pas un parfum qui déploie des milliards de facettes, il est assez linéaire, mais il active en mon cerveau les bonnes touches. J’ai juste envie de plonger mon nez dedans et de me rouler en boule dans des draps blancs, dans un silence peut-être juste troublé par une cloche lointaine. Je ne sais pas si c’est un effet souhaitable, mais en ces temps perturbés, peut-on m’en vouloir de souhaiter la paix, au moins intérieure ?

[claudehenrion]

J'ai mal à la tête...

Jusqu'à ces jours derniers, en des temps où ''tout était mieux, avant'' (l faut bien noter que, au fur et à mesure que le tempus fugit de plus en plus irreparabile, tout devient de plus en plus... ''mieux, avant'' !), c'était simple : il me suffisait d'avaler un comprimé de Doliprane... et le tour était joué : moins de dix minutes plus tard, on était prêt à danser la biguine... ou autre chose, à votre choix. Mais c'était trop simple --''C'est comme tout : tout fout l'camp'', dirait ma chère Madame Michu ! Aujourd'hui, n'importe quel ''pseudo-mozart de la finance''(auto-proclamé) tuerait ses ''Parent 1'' et ''Parent 2'' pour 3 fois rien (13 milliards, tout de même, au prix de la Doliprane ''en gros'' !).

A l'issue sans issue (vous verrez : le grand nettoyage par le vide, en France ! Je prends les paris !) du psychodrame dont nous croyons avoir vu la fin, on commence à mieux comprendre ce qui ne s'est pas passé. Si vous n'êtes pas d'accord avec mon analyse, merci d'écrire à tumblr, mon fournisseur d'espace, qui transmettra. Ou pas.En 2 ou 3 mille mots, c'est l'histoire ratée d'un anti-douleur fabriqué en France, c'est-à-dire là où on en a le plus besoin --et en tout cas, plus besoin qu'ailleurs, compte tenu de la nullité crasse de notre personnel politique et de la monstruosité dévorante de nos ponctions fiscales-- que Sanofi, sans doute fatigué que cette authentique machine à cash fasse ''ding-ding'' sans cesse depuis des décennies, a décidé de la vendre à des américains, soigneusement choisis parmi les plus inhumains, les plus radins, les plus insensibles et les plus anthropophages qui puissent être : un ''Fonds de pension'', le prototype du gouffre sans fond plein de fonds, si j'ose.

En fait, c'est pas ça. Ou ''pas exactement ça''. En revenant sur les épisodes précédents et sur les épisodes inconnus, tout en le vendant, les français en garderaient le contrôle, qui deviendrait ipso facto un non-contrôle, étant entendu que les ricains, pas fous, en deviendraient les seuls propriétaires, au ''droit de regard'' près des français, et à l'Etat (qui vient mettre son grain de sel après la bataille, comme les gendarmes de la chanson), d'exercer un droit de veto à la seule condition, bien spécifiée, que ces mêmes ricains seraient libres de faire ce qu'ils veulent, comme ils veulent, quand ils veulent.

La seule condition, c'est que les dits ricains s'engagent à ne pas léser ce qu'ils auront compris que les français considèrent comme des droits non précisés... mais à ne pas léser, bien évidemment ! La formule est si belle que je l'ai recopiée sans en modifier un seul mot, à votre intention : ''Les (américains) auront le droit d'agir comme bon leur semble dans la limite de la préservation de l'autonomie décisionnelle des français à l'intérieur d'un périmètre contrôlé par les américains dans le respect des éventuelles décisions des français concernant de possibles développements envisageables à condition ''bien entendu --sic !'' de maintenir le niveau minimum de valeur ajoutée produit pendant cinq ans''...

C'est-y-pas beau, ça, Madame ? J'imagine les négociateurs US, habitués à rencontrer des gens sérieux, échangeant force clins d’œil et se retenant à quatre pour ne pas pouffer. Je dois dire que, mis à part les deux membres de phrase ''bien entendu'' et ''cinq années'', je n'ai pas compris un traître mot de ce baragouin à la fois illisible et incompréhensible ! Et nos énarques de pavoiser et de cocoriquer ! Ah les cons... I Et il est désormais inutile d'espérer qu'un bon vieux cachet de Doliprane ait la plus petite chance de transformer cette défaite humiliante et victoire éclatante. Et pourtant... c'est ce qu'ils font, et faisant appel à leur vieille technique émoussée : ''Circulez... Y a rien à voir.''. Adieu, veaux, vaches, cochon, couvée, cachets, Doliprane... mais pas maux de tête. Ils auront réussi à assassiner ce beau et grand pays en moins de temps qu'il n'en faut pour comprendre à quel point ils sont stupides, néfastes, mortifères et... prétentieux. A nous, il nous reste les yeux pour pleurer...

H-Cl.

[raphaeltareaudjazz]

💥💥

Alexandre Stellio Et Son Orch Créole ’“Au Bar Des Iles” Hot Haitian Jazz 1960…

[upismediacenter]

LITERARY: Kutsero

Kapag tumatakbo ang kabayo,  

Tinatakpan ang gilid ng mga mata nito

Para hindi bumaling sa iba ang tingin 

At kutsero’y ‘di biguin.

Ngunit tama ba na nakabase lamang sa

kutsero ang kalesa?

Na tila nakakulong sa nakatakda nitong ruta,

O dapat ba’y malaya siyang makatakbo

Ayon sa hatak at hila ng kaniyang puso?

Pagkatapos ng lahat,

Ang tao ay tao, 

At ang kabayo ay kabayo,

Kahit na parehong kontrolado 

Ng mga sarili nilang kutsero.

Ikaw, sinong kutsero mo?

[phonographica]

Crystal - Funky Biguine (1985)

[littlewalken]

TIL that Daniel Vangarde (Bangalter) went from being banned on French radio to seeing his son win album of the year and more at the Grammys. He was there when Daft Punk won everything.

Now I got to go look at the Grammy footage and see if I can see him.

transcript of the Bilboard.com article:

Daniel Vangarde, Father Of Daft Punk’s Thomas Bangalter & Disco Innovator, Breaks His Silence

From his home in Brazil, the 75-year-old legend reflects on being banned from French radio, the best advice he gave to Daft Punk and the re-release of his catalog: "I think I will not die."

Daniel Vangarde has lived a fascinating life. He’s lived at least three of them, in fact. 

His first act was as a producer, A&R and all-around catalyst for some of the most popular European disco and funk acts of the 1970s and ’80s, shifting millions of copies. Since the late 2000s he’s been residing and working in a Brazilian village of 750 people, teaching English, computer literacy, vocational skills and a range of artistic expression.

Somewhere in the middle he fathered a son, Thomas Bangalter, who also made some decent records himself. 

Vangarde (born Bangalter) helped guide the early movements of Daft Punk, at a time when the pre-Homework duo had magic in their fingertips but hadn’t yet mastered the close control of image and narrative which forged their mystique. Vangarde doled out critical advice to Thomas, Guy-Manuel and a coterie of close friends in the ’90s Parisian scene, instilling in them the requisite knowledge to play the industry game on their own terms and better enabling them to sculpt their consequential destiny. 

Then followed a high-profile battle with France’s publishing and rights society, SACEM, over both restrictive practices for modern artists and historical aberrations for post-World War II remuneration to Jewish musicians. Sufficiently content with both his own success and the imprint he left on the next generation, Vangarde retreated into silence, only fleetingly emerging when required (including a trip to the 2014 Grammy Awards, where he watched his son clean up). There were no plans to issue communiqués with the music ecosystem — until now.

Following a deal with powerhouse French label Because Music, the vaults of Vangarde’s Zagora Records have been busted open. The resultant compilation, Daniel Vanguarde: The Vaults of Zagora Records Mastermind (1971 - 1984), out Nov. 25 on Because Music, should re-situate him in a lineage of discotheque-pleasers with a taste for suave, symphonic and Star Wars-influenced material that bristles with joie de vivre. The comp is surprisingly tight for an era which left no excess untested; it’s not a stretch to say, from the colorway of his suit down to his perm, the Daniel Vangarde peering out from the cover might just have been the model for Disco Stu.

Having undertaken the grand sum of zero English-language interviews for 75 years, Vangarde made himself available to Billboard from the deep Bahian forests for an extremely rare and rather charming conversation about it all. 

One thing that’s clear across your life is a fascination with culture and society outside of your own. You produced artists from the French Antilles and the West Indies, kickstarted a cossack dance craze in the late ’60s, and latterly founded an NGO. Where does this curiosity stem from?

I always liked traveling: I spent 10 summers of my adolescence in Costa Brava [Spain], visited Swinging London, and in 1966 hitchhiked from New York down to Mexico in order to visit the Tarahumara. Life felt like an adventure.

In 1971, I happened upon Guadeloupe and loved it ��� the people, the place, and the local rhythmic music, biguine, which I took back to work on in Paris. Throughout trips to Kathmandu, Bali and Malaysia in the ’70s, my love for African, Arabian, South American and other music outside the French or Anglo-Saxon tradition kept growing.

What were your dreams for the world back then?

Ah, that is easy. I was curious about the globe and completely against war. I was politically active from a young age. I was arrested during the student revolution in ’68 and spent three nights in a jail cell without light. That was very frightening. They say there were no deaths but I am certain this is untrue, there was great violence. For years afterward I had to cross the street whenever I saw a policeman, you know?

You had post-traumatic stress?

Yes, yes, it was this: it was post-traumatic stress. But I stayed against nuclear factories, against the Algerian War and successfully avoided my own military service. I did not change my point of view that mass consumption is a dead-end of civilization. In 1968, we had spiritual belief in a more open future. Today we have realism about our present moment, and that is what it is.

When you were 25, you and longtime collaborator Jean Kluger came up with Yamasuki, a faux-Japanese project whose only release is still pored over by record collectors and DJs like Four Tet. Why did you decide to jump into the deep end with such a specific concept? 

Listen to this article

After the success of “Casatschok,” I was mostly considered a choreographer. Shows about kung fu were beginning to sweep through television, so Kluger and I thought about creating a Japanese dance, which we called Yamasuki, but the great sound of the music caught on more. We really got into a Japanese mindset: I bought an English-to-Japanese phrasebook, we learned phonetic pronunciation and taught a children’s choir lyrics in Japanese. We even hired a karate master to deliver a shout of death [kiai] — except he had no sense of rhythm, so I would stand in the studio, cueing him when to shout… and trembling on the other side of the mic.

As disco became popular globally, and you had French artists like Cerrone winning Grammy Awards for Best New Artist, was there any competition or jealousy? Or did you regard them as your peers?

Peers, totally. There was no competition at all. If there was any competition, in fact, it was with American and English production. I never used a mastering studio; I would be there at the Phillips factory, watching the acetate get pressed, making sure the sound was impeccable. Cerrone, he was not a friend, but we would see each other at the discotheques when taking our new records to the DJ for promotion. The same applies for Jacques Morali {the disco producer responsible for the Village People] — at this time, for the French to have success away from home was a great feeling.

Some of the records you worked on were massive. “D.I.S.C.O.” was the third biggest-seller of 1980 in Germany and the fifth in the UK; the Gibson Brothers sold millions of copies; you’ve been sampled and covered by Erykah Badu, Bananarama, Roger Sanchez — it’s a legacy of success by any other name. Did that come as a surprise to you?

I will say that when I started to make songs, I wanted to write to The Beatles and tell them that there should be five members. [Laughs] I was this certain that I could bring something to them. I imagine that maybe everybody that records hopes that his music will be understood and appreciated by the public. But even if I was expecting success, I recognize it’s a great privilege to live your life off of music. 

What was your relationship to fame throughout all this?

I only did one LP as a frontman, which had the privilege of being banned on radio and television. The lyrics concerned how France is the third biggest producer of bombs and mines. Of course, that’s a state secret, so the record was buried, and I was never a frontman again. But that’s alright: I was an author, composer and producer; an artisan. I sought no fame, no show business. A reporter asked me recently: “So you live your life in the shadows?” And I said, “No! I live in the light, normally, like you do.”

Interest in the Zagora reissue is however fun to me, because I was not fashionable at all. I produced La Compagnie Créole, a very big band in the ’80s, and we could sell out three nights at L’Olympia but I could never once get a journalist to come see the show. That’s just how it was then. If it’s not chanson, it’s not serious. In France, popular music is suspicious.

By the time your career wound down around 1990, was the love for music still present? Was it a creative rupture or a decision to be with your family?

Truthfully, I was not producing music that excited me, and I thought it unwise to carry on. When making a hit my hands would become wet while mixing, and a physical sensation would overtake my belly. So if I was not feeling anything, why would anyone else? Also, there was a new generation doing dance music, and of course this was very close for me.

Yes, on that note… perhaps no one in the last 10 years has done more to kickstart the revival of disco and analog production than your son, Thomas. Why do you think that era has swept back into the public consciousness? 

I can see why. Nothing replaces rhythm. Songs that you can dance to, with a melody you can sing — not rap, not techno, not even Daft Punk can compete with this human response to a good feeling. There are different chapels today: you have country radio, rap radio, rock radio, but the old repertoire has maintained.

What aggregates the masses are famous hits, and disco was the last of this kind of music. When they decided that disco was over and they started to burn the records [1979’s infamous bonfire of hate, Disco Demolition], I thought it was a joke, because I never thought happy, dancing music could possibly fade. And when disco came back, I realized it hadn’t faded after all.

Your know-how helped ground not only a young Daft Punk, but also their peers Phoenix and Air, all of whom credit your advice with allowing them to navigate the music biz and retain creative freedom.

I think all artists should have this freedom. I helped Thomas, Guy-Man and their friends as much as I could to allow them to release without barriers. They were only 20 years old and the industry could have squeezed them — a normal contract generates interference between your work and the time it’s released. I made an introduction to my English lawyer, who is still [Daft Punk’s] lawyer today, and advised them not to let the author’s rights society in France authorize their music for film or publicity. My input was to help create a good environment that allowed them to produce freely.

Do you think the industry is a better place for young artists now than it was in the ’90s, or the ’70s? Or is it contingent on who you are?

That’s difficult to say. I think the music industry is in a terrible situation, not because of the internet, but because record companies and publishers didn’t know how to use the internet. When I helped Thomas set up Daft Club [a groundbreaking hub for digital downloads and fan service, released in tandem with 2001’s Discovery] even then, many considered the internet science fiction for geeks. And what was the result? 

They should have contracted the hackers! The best guy from Napster should have been contracted by record companies to organize a new paid system. At a time when people paid $10-20 for an LP, of course they would have accepted paying $1 instead. But the industry did nothing, music became like free air, and once the value collapsed to zero for many years, it was hard to come back from this.

In the ’70s, the artistic directors of a record company or programmers of a radio station held all the control. So I didn’t think it was good then. But I can’t say it’s better today either. It’s difficult for true talent to break through or generate wealth in the same fashion as before.

As you’ve never given interviews, your working practice from that era is lost. I mean — Bangalter now rings with a uniqueness and star quality, so why did you use Vangarde as your professional surname?

I wanted to allow future Thomas to use Bangalter! No, I chose a pen name in case I had success; I did not wish to book a hotel or restaurant and be recognized. Why Vangarde? Originally I had prepared Morane, the name of a small French plane in the early 1900s. But on the day of registration with SACEM, this was already taken, so I was given one minute to change. I quickly thought of another plane called the Vanguard, and this stuck by complete accident.

You’ve been distant from your own catalog for so long. Why now? 

I’m afraid it’s not very romantic. I have known Emmanuel [de Buretel, kingpin of French electronic music] since he was 25. When Because Music showed interest in buying Zagora Records and releasing some old tracks, I trusted them, and said, “You’ll be the owner of the catalog, so if you want to, yes.” As I have never done photos or interviews, I did not expect interest at all. I could even not remember some of their choices, so I had to go on YouTube and listen back as I was certain these were not my songs! To see any reaction has been a huge shock. Because made a very good decision.

So you never considered what you’d like your legacy to be?

I think I will not die. I have songs that I did 50 years ago that are still popular. If people are happy when they hear the songs and go to dance, or go to see the bands still touring, they do not die. This is the answer of my legacy.

And are you satisfied?

Yes, I’m very happy. I have the privilege to do what I want, and a good personal life… in the shadows. [Laughs] I have a good relationship with Thomas and now I have two grandchildren. One is 20 years old and the other is 14 — I love them. I go on being free and having my health. What more can I ask for?

[sonicandvisualsurprises]

1947

Rediscovering tracks by Rico's Creole Band, a Cuban band based in Paris in the 30's and 40's.

[la-cocotte-de-paris]

hi, siren!! what's your favorite song, scent/perfume, texture to touch and favorite food right now/today? 🤗

Hello, darling Anon!

The song I'm obsessed with atm is actually from a soundtrack — it's the Main Theme from Succession 😅 I've listened to it...perhaps a bit too frequently these past two/three days...

I have two favourite perfumes that I kinda use as a signature scent: Sì Intense by Giorgio Armani and Flore Occulte by Jardins d'Écrivains/Anaïs Biguine. La vie est belle intesément by Lancôme is also really nice ♡

Texture to touch...hmm, I've never really thought about it... I suppose satin and silk ✨️

Favourite food atm...I'd say Nocellara olives 🫒 And salmon scream cheese bagels with spinach and lemon juice 😋

Thank you for asking, dear! 💖✨️

[raphaeltareaudjazz]

Google Martinique - Promesse Séjours Turquoises dans un cadre paradisiaque en Martinique

[lakanamihan]

May ngiti sa mga labi ko habang inaalala ko kung paano natin pinagsiksikan ang isa’t isa sa maliit kong payong.

Sakto ang buhos ng ulan sa bugso ng sarili kong damdamin, parang Habagat na nag-aalimpuyo. Alam ko namang hindi ko pa nararanasan ‘yung proverbial butterflies in your stomach, kahit noon pa. Bumabagsak lang ang puso ko sa ilalim ng tiyan ko at napipigil nang panandalian ang aking paghinga. Umaakyat ang dugo sa mukha ko at para akong sinikmuraan sa kaba. Brutal ang kilig, sa totoo lang.

Pero, pareho nito ang thrill na nararamdaman ko sa Wild River na ride sa amusement park. ‘Yung dahan-dahan kang dadalhin sa tuktok at bigla kang ihuhulog pababa—para kang lumilipad kahit saglit lang. At uulitin mo nang ilang beses para makabisado mo ‘yung pakiramdam.

May madalas sabihin sa mga ganito eh: ‘parang naiwan ‘yung kaluluwa ko sa tuktok!’ Siguro nga naiwan ang kaluluwa ko sa’yo.

Nababasâ na ang braso ko dahil sa pagtulo ng tubig galing sa payong mismo, dahil nga hindi tayo kasya. Ikaw na rin ang naghawak sa payong ko dahil tumitiklop ka na sa kakayuko sa tangkad mo.

“’Yan kasi, hindi nagdadala ng payong,” pang-aasar ko sa’yo.

Ngumiti ka sa’kin nu’n sabay sagot ng, “Sira eh.”

Nakakalunod ka. Para akong nahihilo sa pagkalutang nu’ng mga panahon na ‘yon. Gusto kong nandu’n lang tayo, magkatabi sa ilalim ng maliit kong payong na walang laban sa malakas na ulan.

Habang nakasapo sa sarili kong damdamin, hinayaan kong anurin ng daloy ng tubig-ulan ang isip ko. Hindi na ako nagulat nang sa’yo ito mapadpad.

Nararamdaman kita kahit hindi ako makatingin sa’yo. Hindi ko nga lang alam ang laman ng isip mo. Kinakain na ako ng kaba sa mga panahon na ‘yon. Pero napagtanto ko na, kung hahayaan kong lumipas ang pagkakataon na ito na wala akong ginawa, baka habang-buhay kong pagsisihan.

“Dean…”

Lumingon ka agad pagkabanggit ko sa pangalan mo. Tinaasan mo lang ako ng kilay, at humimig ng mahinang “Hmm?” bilang tugon. Sa lakas ng buhos ng ulan, hindi ko na rin narinig ‘yung tunog. Nakita ko na lang ang magkadikit mong mga labi at ang mga mata mong nakatuon na pala sa’kin.

Mas malakas ang kalabog ng dibdib ko kesa sa pagdadabog ng ulan sa kawawang nylon ng payong natin.

“Dean, I like you.”

At bumulusok na ako pababa. Naiwan ang kaluluwa sa tangwa ng ligtas na distansya sa pagitan nating dalawa. Nahulog ako kasama ng puso ko. Handa akong mabalian ng buto, handa akong tawanan mo o asarin at balewalain ang katotohanang inialay ko sa’yo nang sandaling ‘yon.

Basta, hindi ko pagsisisihan na hindi ko nasabi sa’yo ‘to. Kung anuman ang isasagot mo, tatanggapin ko nang bukal sa loob ko.

Umiwas ka na nu’n ng tingin. Hindi ko agad nalaman ang reaksyon mo dahil itinago mo ‘yun sa’kin. Dala ng kaba, at ng iba pang mga emosyon na nagbabadya, nangilid na nga ang luha ko. Hindi ako sanay na ganito ako tuwing kasama ka, dahil madalas tayong maglokohan lang at mag-asaran. Dahil komportable akong laging nakikipagtalo sa’yo, kasi nakakatuwa kang kadiskurso. Kung bibiguin mo ako, sana ngayon na.

Kahit ayaw kong biguin mo ako.

Malungkot ang mga mata mo nang tumingin ka ulit sa’kin. Parang may bumara sa lalamunan ko nu’n na sinlaki ng piso kaya napapigil ako ng hininga. Halos labinlimang segundo yata ang itinagal bago ako huminga ulit.

“Ano?” tanong mo sa’kin na parang hindi mo narinig nang maayos ang sinabi ko.

Ayoko nang ulitin, Dean. Bakit ba ang tigas ng ulo mo minsan?

Imbes na mamamatay na ako sa kaba, bigla akong napikon sa’yo. Gusto kitang sipain sa tuhod.

“Narinig mo naman eh. Niloloko pa ‘ko nito. Akala mo lagi akong nakikipag-biruan.” Tuloy-tuloy na lumabas sa bibig ko ang inis na naramdaman ko. Hindi na ako nakapag-preno.

“Uulitin mo lang eh,” malumanay mong sabi, may halo nang panunuyo. Naghalo na ang kaba, kilig, hiya, at yamot ko.

Unti-unti nang humihina ang ulan. Pwede nang mapiga ang manggas ng t-shirt kong naulanan rin.

“Gusto nga kita, sabi ko,” pag-uulit ko. Medyo nakakailang at para na naman akong tinutulak mula sa ibabaw ng bangin, pero nandyan ka na bilang audience. Walang kasiguraduhan kung sasaluhin mo ako o panonoorin lang na bumagsak sa lupa.

Pakiramdam ko ang tanga-tanga ko. Nilalamon ako ng kahihiyan. Sinabi ko naman na gagawin ko ‘yun para hindi ko pagsisihan, ‘diba? Oh ayan. Pagtiisan.

“Parang tanga eh,” bulong ko. Kung sino ang tinutukoy ko sa’ting dalawa, hindi ko na alam.

“Gusto rin kita.”

Hindi na ako nakatingin sa'yo nu’n dahil sa inis ko sa'yo ilang segundo pa lang ang nakalipas. Pero narinig ko ang malambing mong tawa sa pagitan ng mga tatlong salitang ‘yun. Hindi ko na napigilan ang mga ngiti ko.

[tugmataludtodtalata]

sa panahong gusto kong kumalma,

nariyan ang bituin.

kumikislap-kislap, nagagalak na ako'y aluin.

nariyan ang hangin.

malamig ang simoy, hindi ako nais biguin.

nariyan ang mga kuliglig.

nagmamasid, hindi ako gustong abalahin.

nariyan ang mga dahon at puno.

nakikinig, nakahandang ako'y yakapin.

nariyan ang mga dumaraan sa kalsada.

mangilan-ngilan, hinahayaan ako sa panahong gusto kong kumalma.