gogol's playthings.

these is the story about gogol's playthings.
gogol's parents never buy him toys. most of his toys were either given to him or stuffs from the kitchen counters that slowly crept their way into his toy basket. gogol's parents do not patronize toy kingdom and are anti-consumerist.

first off...



The Ball.


This soft, spongy football was given by gogol's "kika" mao's friend myrrh. she loves to think she's gogol's godmother. his mother forgot when this was given to him but it could be during that stage when he was mastering his picking objects skills or maybe his pincer grasp. gogol does not practice picking up skills with this ball anymore. He is so done with it already. This ball is now used for mastering his throwing skills. His parents hope that this ball will inspire him to be a FIFA world cup star by the time he's 18.

Osong Paloy (you wouldn't wanna know what that means. believe me.)

Osong Paloy was a name invented by gogol's tatay when he was told that a write up about gogol's playthings will be made. For header purposes, a name for this gayish bear had to be invented, since most of gogol's toys do not have names. Osong paloy arrived in our apartment sometime in june 2007 from isabela, in northern philippines. it was sent to "kika" mao by a friend. as expected it was turned over to gogol. gogol never played with it until recently, and his parents thought it was too fuzzy for him to play with.

Tarsilo the tartol

Tarsilo was a product of gogol's "kika" mao's christmas party in december of 2007. gogol's mother used tarsilo's neck as bottle propper when gogol was still unable to hold the bottle on his own.Tarsilo used to have a black dot on his plastic eyes. But they were eventually rubbed out. Gogol's parents and his then sitter Manang Inday used to draw the black dot using the permanent marker but the dot would only last for a day. they eventually got tired of it and accepted tarsilo's "blinded" look. Tarsilo the tartol looks like a happy stuffed toy, not considering his gayish color. Gogol loves him.



Spiderman, spiderman

spiderman was a puppet bought by gogol's lola in Davao City. he was not appreciative of it at first, not until his mother used spiderman to sing to him Twinkle Twinkle Little Star at night, after their reading/story telling session on the board book "Squirrel is Hungry" by satoshi kitamura. Now gogol can't live a day without hugging and kissing spiderman. He sometimes even let spiderman sleep beside him. (picture to come)



Kabayoman


Kabayoman was a christmas gift to gogol by his nanay's cousin. before spiderman came to gogol's life, kabayoman was one of his favorite companions. he seems to like kabayoman better that osong paloy perhaps because kabayoman looks so macho, and osong paloy looks so girl. Also, Kabayoman is so flexible he can fit in gogol's small bag now matter how full it is. and he always do things with a big horsey smile on his face.

gogol's shoes.

I'm not a shoe person. i only have 2 pairs of shoes which i really consider mine, one is a hiking shoe (which is as historical as it could be, i bought it at rockport in greenbelt while the magdalo soldiers are preparing for their great uprising a block away and myself and my sister knowing about it 2 hours later while inside the cinema watching "Miranda" -- starring christina ricci -- through a text sent by my father who was in Iloilo) and the other one is a running shoe (a 3-year old running shoe that needs replacement). Similarly, gogol isn't raised to be a shoe guy, although that seems to be far from happening as the shoe-rack corner appears to be one of his favorite spots in our 6x10 apartment, next to "under the table". The moment he wakes up he'll usually get hold of any of his shoes, signaling that he wants to get some fresh morning air outside. or maybe have some morning gibberish with his girlfriend from door 4.

He would also be as kuripot as his parents.



The first walking shoes.


when gogol was just learning to walk we never required him to put on shoe when he's in side the house. that way, they said, the child learns how to balance properly since nothing intervenes between his feet and the ground. That's as organic as you could get. Gogol used this pair of shoes when he practiced walking outside, in the driveway of our apartment at 10 months. this time, at 18 months and an expert at walking, he would never even bother to put on shoes when he rushes out (usually to greet the ambulant vendor of puto or baye-baye).I try not to be a stage mom as possible but my siblings and my husband could not help laughing every time gogol takes this out from our improvised shoe rack. Yes, that's (worn-out) 3m bandages you see.

The Aldeguer sandals.

While hunting for a really cheap pair of ecru/beige (no, no not white, and not open toed, as the the guideline saud) graduation shoes in aldeguer street i chanced upon this kiddie open toed sandals. very cheap. a jollibee value meal is even more expensive compared to this. and it looks comfortable for the restless feet of my then 14-month old gogol. i immediately bought one for him. when he tried it, it's half an inch smaller. but he liked it a lot. fearing that bantay bata 163 would punish us for foot-binding gogol, we left the straps unstrapped and off the baby goes to the driveway with his sandal straps flapping like goofy's ears.

all star.

his grandfather said he looks like george harrison if he has this on. we hadn't seen a baby his age (then 11 months) wearing green all star hi-cut sneakers. he looked like a rad boy with this pair on. there isn't much story on this shoes except that it was a gift from his aunt when she went to arizona for a job training. he wasn't as hyper active then.

Spiderman shoes.

gogol was also given a pair spiderman shoes that were so thickly padded he could hardly walk in them. the size was just right though. however, by the looks of it, i don't think they were made for walking babies. the shoes was sent by his lola from the US so i suppose they were intentionally made for big caucasian babies who are certainly not in their walking stage. gogol rarely use them. in fact, we only put this on him when we want to turn him into a clown.

I am Spartan.

his other lola also bought him these greek-like sandals from a trade fair. maybe it's form marikina. i'm not so sure. but it's way cheaper than the first sandals i bought but wearing them instantly turn gogol into a greek god with a big, fat belly. this is the one he always use for walking around the apartment driveway. or spending his hyper-active afternoon with similarly hyper active friends from the other units.













Cars, his latest fave.

in may of this year his lola (the same lola who sent him the spiderman shoes) again sent him character shoes, this time from the movie Cars. this has become so far his well-loved shoes and is a symbol of "lagalag time". this is the one he takes out of the shoe rack and give to anybody available when he wants to go out of the house. when he dons this on, sockless, in his shorts and tee shirt, he looks like "naputo nga intsik".


Gogol is bound to have more shoes than his parents. he also has a white hi-cut osh kosh sent by his grandma (the spiderman shoe grandma) together with the cars shoes. and his other grandma (the spartan sandal grandma) also bought him batman slippers. i bought him cheap rubber slippers in my hometown's market (at a price of mcfloat, sold by a 10 year old kid maybe being subjected to child labor). so.

and for the last words, here is gogol
(with a pillow on his back since he was a ninja turtle that day but he was annoyed and didn't want to be a ninja turtle so all the time the pillow was there he was agitated, irritable and threw tantrums):

A M E N.

WHIR.

I SAID I FEEL SO SMASHING PUMPKINS TODAY. AND SINCE YESTERDAY.


I've wasted all my years
Been chasin' all my fears
For another
Brighter than you

I gave in long ago
To make it to the show
It's not easy
When you're alone

All your prayers
In my ears
Don't you care

Whir yourself around
Just to fall back down
Whir yourself around

My honey, little girl
C'mon let's go for a whirl
It's still early
Sun is sleeping

She says she wants to marry me
She says she wants a baby
It's not easy
When you're scared

Whir yourself around
Just to fall back down
Whir yourself around

All your prayers
In my ears
Don't you care

tantrums.

while listening to eraserfuckingheads.

one excuse allowing me to a tantrums spree today is my runny nose and everything that the post-trangkaso condition has to offer. but an adult throwing tantrums is a big thumbs down, more so if she's broke like me.

hemingways....

(now it's "cigarettes will kill you" -- but will it?)

if i was less affected as i thought i was i wouldn't be so bugged about this issue but i do have to write about this. i just have to write about this otherwise i might find myself muttering to my own self while commuting from my dirty office to the even dirtier Jaro District (it's understandable; the flood, remember??).

if i didn't ask her to sarsuela would my phone be still around? talk of possibilities. maybe that "sms-ing" her was the jinx.

then i receive the lamest excuse EVERRRRRRRRRRRRRR from a person with maybe an IQ higher than mine: "i went to blah blah blah and before i knew it it was my time to leave".

i mean how dazed and confused could you get it'd take you a week to realize you're HELLOO!! in third world Philippines and needs to pack up and go to another third world asian hellhole? I mean how bad could your life really really get? We had to feet water inside our house. and i'm broke. with bills to pay. or maybe there was just too much time for "dazing and confusing." dun...du...du...dunnnnnn!!!!

that is just so lame. i wish she just told me "i really didn't have plans to see your skinny ugly face" than give me poetics. With that she doesn't even need to say sorry because i'd instantly understand. BUT POETICS????? for chrissakes.

if only i could remember what excuse she gave when she refused to go out of their house to see us because she had her hair rebonded??? in the fucking philippines? what??? no rebond service in that another asian third world (oh, wait, maybe they're second already!)

People, people, people.

if you're not good at excuses, more so lying, don't ever attempt it at desperate moments especially when you don't have the liberties to click Ctrl+Z. and before you knew it...Ooops, it came out. and came out REALLY LAMEEEEEEEEEE.

people. people. people.


they never learn.

BLEEEEEEEEEEEEEH!

writers.

Writers are people who write. By and large, they are not happy people. They're not good at relationships. Often they're drunks. And writing -- good writing -- does not get easier and easier with practice. It gets harder and harder -- so eventually the writer must stall out into silence.The silence that waits for every writer and that, inevitably, if only with death (if we're lucky the two may happen at the same time: but they are still two, and their coincidence is rare), the writer must fall into is angst-ridden and terrifying - and often drives us mad. (In a letter to Allen Tate, the poet Hart Crane once described writing as "dancing on dynamite.") So if you're not a writer, consider yourself fortunate.



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