In Media Res: The Word-Eater

Well, I've managed to finish the draft of the Boracay Cup article and I'm letting my boss see if it's comprehensible. This leaves me with two more articles for this week (one really since it's more or less the same thing) with the rest set for next week.

Excellent.

In the meantime, here's Word-Vomit (part 1) detailing one of a few stories that have been knocking in my head this past week. Sorry about this. Likewise, I'm not implementing a 15-minute limit to this thing but don't worry about length. I've got too many things to do (and write about) to make my audience's eyes glaze and roll up.

This one came out of the blue: I was having my first smoke and cup of coffee for the day when the opening line blinked into existence in my head. To paraphrase a saying, sometimes you get the idea and sometimes the idea gets you.

In brief: There are parasites and there are parasites. Or, if you like, there are vampires and there are vampires. They have to have normal lives, too. And of course, one of them happens to be an English instructor at the state university...

He lived on words.

Literally, he ate them for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Sometimes he had them for snacks, too. For example, the word 'effervescent' was a tasty morsel a bit on the spicy side with a light tinge of sweetness. Or the words 'cavalcade' and 'arboretum' were good together, the basil after-taste of the latter combining well with the saltiness of the former.

He loved the feel of them on his tongue before he swallowed them.

Of course, he ate and drank like what normal people did. No point in letting other people see what you really are and fear what you did. Like now, sitting with his fellow teachers at a bar in Katipunan avenue, drinking beer and eating pulutan dishes like sisig and tokwa't baboy, exchanging gossip about this department head or that assistant vice principal. It was sometimes fun for him.

"So Cherie goes and tells him to pass the student even after the little brat flunked all his exams..."

"Well, what do you expect?"

"Yeah. It's all politics, you know. And you don't get on Cherie's bad side, not if you want her hounding you all the way to the teacher's bathroom..."

But he couldn't resist every now and then to snatch at the words floating around him. For example, he heard a couple talking dirty to each other at a nearby table. Erotic words like 'thrust' and 'massage' were an aphrodisiac to him... until he heard someone say 'orgasmatory' and he lost all appetite.

Eh. Artificial words always left a bad taste in his mouth.

"I still don't get what the new curriculum program is all about..."

"Tell me about it. All I understand is that I'm overloaded with students clamoring for one class."

"You're overloaded? Almost all my subjects have been cancelled because there haven't been enough students enrolling for 'em!"

He always wondered if there were others like him. Or if there were others who shared his preference for the English language. For example, were there those who liked the taste of Cyrillic? French? Or even-- wonders of wonders-- Bisaya?

"Fuck!"

"What's the problem?"

"I'm trying to remember this poem by Neruda. But there's this word at the tip of my tongue that I can't... Aggh!"

He smiled. Especially at the sweet taste that blossomed on his tongue, like grapes that had been slightly fermented in the sun. Or a claret of good wine.

Ah, melancholy.

Hmmm. Time for a late lunch, I do believe.