ITEMMITEEMITTIME

ITEMMITEEMITTIME

a novel by adam david

A majority of this book came out in a slightly different form as the “Saturday” chapter in the online web project A Week of Kindness and the 2009 edition of the Literary Apprentice, edited by Sierra Mae Paraan, Bernadette April Canay, and Anne Lagamayo, published by the Vibal Foundation.

Special thanks to Ken, Vlad, Carljoe, Saguid, Cholo, Gelo, Alex, Clara, and Sierra.

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Everything merges with the night.

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And offer our professional exterminators all the right problems.

I am seven and here I am. There are years between here and here.

Three years beside me. The dead were stuck were dead. Ten minutes before, the houses were all okay, she assured me. Just out of reach. Just there.

And more importantly at the very least that thing it’s quite a thing.

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Figure 1: Observe something as it changes in time. Record its names.

I lost my license to go through everything again. For other people, that sounded too good to be true, so I referenced my application and told them I tried.

I suggested not loving not taking serious. In another place in the map, my own map ran down the places we had our house had our house volunteered to make ends meet maybe as a short order cook. I don’t really know.

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Figure 2: Observe something as it changes in scale. Record its names.

“Here we are, stuck by this river, waiting, always failing to remember why you talk to me from a distance,” I reply.

“Here we are, stuck by this river, underneath a sky that’s ever falling down,” I reply.

“Here we are, stuck by this river, as if on an ocean, here, always” I reply.

“Here we are, stuck by this river, always failing to remember why we came,” I reply.

“Here we are, stuck by this river, and I wonder why you talk to meas if from a distance ,” I reply.

Here we are, stuck by this river. You talk to me from a distance and I reply.

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Figure 3: Observe something as it changes in a hierarchy. Record its names. Figure 4: Observe something as it changes in differentiation. Record its names.

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I hope this letter finds you. Please allow me a moment to grow under several excellent architects with complex detail and defining design furthermore.

Would you permit light in other places? Where? What is it? A home I beg you? What sky? What light? Alive? Shall we say? What are we standing for? Shall we be getting along? What are you up to now? What would you fancy? Am I out? Those were my words. Figure 5: Observe something as it changes under different emotions. Record

its names.

I want.

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A note said “a house,” not “a home.” As it was a house not some home. A house with a garden and trees and birds. It’s a beautiful house with moldings and stucco and murals and somebody died a brutal death there. The corpse still hidden. The carpet covering up. All the whatnot.

Many preparations. The men prepare for just one night. The women prepare whenever bells are ringing. My preparation is my sulk.

My eye for my sister. An inspired decision. A special something going on somewhere. Somehow sexier. Far far sexier. Whatever. I’m just happy I know what “chop suey” means.

And so the neigh-bors demolished the houses. They neglected the houses. So they de-molished the houses. Maybe in the next year or so.

Another question: how does the work work? I’m still thinking of how to do it cheap.

And as soon as we find our cell phone signals on the brink of collapsing radio resonance our signals all collectively send and receive messages. “Maybe.” “We’ll see.”

The other revelation leaked black sludge and ruined gardenias. They kept it there for a week and then went to pick it up like it was brand new. It looked brand new. These guys do a good job of it, thinking of dinner.

Getting ready for season patrol in tanks. Agenda matters more than perspective. There are more.

Accelerating conversations are abandoned, highly-flexible and endless, private as much as open.

Crucial to understand: revolution anticipated all that has come before.

The transformative wish to become better often dirty busi-ness: pretty politician getting money from someone claiming non-partisan information, really geared to one side or the other. There is reality.

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Hearing both sides. There are lies. Cries of annoying intention, terror-ists simply have different ideas as to the solution. A little ignorance. Without them we’d have nothing. It takes both sides.

That old cartoon arguing about who should run, etc. So much of what is said boils down to arguments be-tween lots of noise, little facts.

Facts state. They respond to inqui-ries. Make the list with which special agreements matter.

Answer: First and foremost, simply don’t. Secondly, don’t. Finally, can you imagine? Can you imagine while tanks muddle along? Tanks do not have room for passengers. Just like to take my chance.

In the near future, according to documents obtained and confirmed, one in three reservists have already been mobilised during the next year, six months, one year.

Discordant information have begun raising people’s expectations. Influ-ence to affect context. The new technology reflects what evidence illustrates.

A fresh supply every year. Within the last twelve months, the first year the number will be higher. The exact number is unknown. Difficult to predict. Just like to take my chance.

Throughout the year, a number does not include a number to fulfil a number specifically authorised.

More and more about what really at stake: the war we the state have suffered less than most far often. The only problem facing us are problems within the list. Problem regarding deaths.

Many deaths are discouraging. Suicide can touch a tank, not to the point of destroying it.

We’ve come a long way and have fewer deaths. However, you have to get out to question people. Just like to take my chance.

A much higher death rate in the theatre. By comparison during the same period, my best years have done it all without the ammo. You see bullets even if ammo were not there.

Bombs from the ground. The list goes on.

Bombs to flight. Then wait. I have waited. They have waited. So forth and so forth. Waiting is what everyone does.

A very long day. The best thing that can happen to you. I can’t re-ally say much.

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Advice the following: Beliefs is not absolute. Same for most things. Look: at actual telling, he or she believes. He or she really does. Very different. Very important to know. They can’t help you shed light, but they are required to be responsive.

If all else fails, opposition has to say yes, has to say very different stories. Honestly say they need us. I can’t really say much.

Flat out lie. Do that regularly. No matter how they may deny it, your taste shines through. Just like to take my chance.

The last two years provide reasonable perfect conversation. I can’t really say much.

At any given time it will be extremely difficult but the important thing is I know but I don’t see.

The best thing that can happen to you.

There are more.

I can’t really say much.

Figure 6: Observe something as it changes in different languages. Record its names.

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Figure 7: Observe something which never changes. Record its names.

I had to lie down for a while where I lost my cherry with my sister. That was a long summer.

The sun now dust and then bang troubles over. Pause. Pause. Pause.

Just one great squawk then peace.

Here we are.

Pause. Pause.

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We are at a standstill. All danger is past instead of violently calling.

Come down. Open door. Ease out.

Open door.

Crouch down. Crouch down. Time of life. There.

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Flash.

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Roaring.

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This is no place. Time is now coming up gone.

Recede. Cease.

Pause. Pause. Pause.

Pause.

Voice breaks. And I have been meaning to drink haphazardly through the house. The house was wrecked. Everything of the house we neglected to fix. The inside of the house. The patio and deck. Every-thing was said and done.

Not only your home but experience of home. Your home a design for your home. Your home a design for your home.

Install the new foundation. Put in the new floor. It’s a job as jobs have to have.

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Hundreds of households collapse. Millions of households silentlessly suffer. A clean house is certainly very sad. The most ideal.

Fugue 1: Observe: something changes in time or name.

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Fugue 2: Observe change in scale. Rename.

I was about to leave the house when my phone rang. I ran to answer it intimately in ten minutes. “Wow, that’s great.” I don’t think I’ll ever forget.

And the game was a game. The dog crisscrossing the yard. The merry-go-around missing wholesale. Tree and landscapes bring it back to life. But first a life.

A few years ago it was early morning and for a few years, of course. Too good to be true, and that time, yes.

Rural sounds then silence advances sound of dragging feet from house. That ruinous old house, silence but for music playing. Dies. Murmurs melody. Murmur dies. Sound of approaching. Stops. Slow. Stop. “Is that you?”

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No better no worse. Silence nice. No doubt. With emotion thundering in the distance.

Back home. Back home. Sobbing calmer with anger.

The highways and byways retired. Silence. Birds laugh wildly, cease, frenziedly. Silence. Pause.

Sound of car coming up. Engine running. A pain in the stomach.

Keep out pain. I don’t know how. Slaps violently.

Sound of door opening. Switching off engine.

Pause. The words pause. Pause. Feet climb up on the crest.

Pause. Louder. Silence. Pause. Pause. Sound of welt. Pause. Sound of welt. Pause. Pause. Sound of welt. Sound of dragging feet.

On the road: a bowl of grit and dust and flies. A shovel. A horse. The jaw near the ear grow whiskers. That lovely laburnum. Chain. Oil. Grease. Hub. Brakes. Gear. Dragging feet. Pause. Dragging feet. This vile dust.

Silence. Rural sounds. This dust will not settle in our time.

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Sound of extracting. Pause. Sound of effort. Effort. Effort. Pause. Pause.

Breathing hard. Get down. Get down. Not get up. Get down.

Effort. Sound of violent unintelligible muttering walks to door tearfully.

Sees me? Recovered sight? No. knows. Feels.

I beseech be off. Awful.

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Morning went and now is dead. What you get for a good deed.

Fugue 3: Observe hierarchy. It names.

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Later that week in between. And afterwards forget that which we’ll never forget. And our

shambles left to fend off for itself. We saw it in the morning half-eaten by some animal. Decapitated. Much to my delight. I was on the next plane back.

Time brokenly exploding now and cease. Great roaring machine listening to cooing of doves.

Engine roars roaring to make heard. Getting air. Throttles. Grinds in gear. Moves up. Grinding gears in anguish. Scream squawk accelerates. Pause. What a death.

Time brokenly exploding now and cease. Great roaring machine listening to cooing of doves.

Engine roars roaring to make heard. Getting air. Throttles. Grinds in gear. Moves up. Grinding gears in anguish. Scream squawk accelerates. Pause. What a death.

Sterile horse. Giddyap. Can’t remember what. Mourning very senile mind. Jumps from one thing to another.

Disconnected thoughts. Thinking out loud. Her child? How strange sex looks: it all boils down to such a menial thing. Tree with yellow flowers. Hysterectomy. Car gone by. Agoraphobia. Memories of her daughter. Sickness. Rheumatism. In mourning. Repetition. Menopause. Getting tough. Girding up. Little loins. The unconnected clichés. Keeps confusing.

Disorganized. Nothing is together. Desire to be dead. Opposite of what. Would want no soul. Could date after Hiroshima. Atomic bomb. Life changed. Atoms. Offended. Ironic comment on world. Everything has meaning or significance. Really nothing. Unwilling to fill in the spaces. Never leave house. I should not be out at all. I should never leave the grounds. Ants. Hymn. Lovely day for the fixture. Have you been drinking again. You are quivering like a blanc-mange. Pudding. And yet the glass was firm. Weather devise. Ends up killing child on house. Inferno. Damned. Making fun of the wild kingdom not realistic. Animals make noises on cue. Coincidences. Want to think some things are in control. There is a supervisor. Parody. Talking about how dull his life is. How ordinary. Excited. Agog. You were struggling with a dead language. Well,

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you know, it will be dead in time. There is that to be said. Figured out by linguist. Child dying. There are the first drops. Golden drizzle. Music that has been playing. Saturday. Favourite sermon. People are fallen. Lift you up. Scare in disbelief. Left with nothing emptiness. Proud of the fact that she doesn’t see things. Groans. Started him thinking about daughter they lost. Enjoyed hearing the children’s voices. Childishness. Senility. Adults are out of control. Play ends like beginning of mystery. Obsession. The thing he carries. Fixation on horses. Waiting for things to happen to have a focal point. The house is the central point. Going to house. Waiting for the house. What happened on the house. Fugue 4: Observe something different. Record it.

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And I remember I was here.

I am seventy-seven and here I am.

And the first thing was the last thing.

There are years between here and here.

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Fugue 5: Observe emotions, names. Fugue 6: Observe thing as language. Record its name.

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Fugue 7: Observe. Never change it.

Adam David lives in Cubao, Quezon City. He has been a zinester and a bookmaker by trade since 1999. He writes criticism for the Philippine Online Chronicles, a Pinoy culture webzine. He regularly maintains a weblog called Oblique Strategies, which can be monitored every now and then on http://wasaaak.blogspot.com