Frances MM Rebollido

desk
atlas WIP
texts
lens
illus. WIP
mood cinema

View all experimental-visual experiences of some of my writing, in a continuous stack.












︎   ︎  ︎
© Frances Margaret Rebollido 2018-2024





2024


25082405 (wallpaper of...) 08.25
25082404 (...chamois) 08.25
25082403 (whose house) 08.25
25082402 (in a dream...) 08.25
25082401 (Kömorebi) 08.25
29062401 (ocean swirling ...) 06.29
29062403 (tripping under ...) 06.29
29062405 (where does love ...) 06.29
29062404 (dreaming on ...) 06.29
29062402 (memories of ...) 06.29
tiny man to you 04.25
Montmartre casualty 02.17


2023


light material 12.08
Your subliminal stories...  11.16
suffering from socks  11.16
a place above my shelf 10.21
i only felt good in the afternoon 10.21
bozocorp 01.23


2022


second life 08.28
ant visit 08.04
mantra 07.23
lens 04.24
season of depression 03.24
turning 30 01.22


2021


work flows 10.20
a time in my life 08.03
ocean thoughts 06.10
no dogs and a rainbow 05.23
malinao twilight 05.02
malinao sunrise walks 03.21
after a meditation, new in the island 02.19


2020


undelivered 12.18
sinker wave 05.29
life’s like that 05.29
white noise 05.29
the comedy of mania 05.29


2019


Howl derive 12.27
photographer 02.19
love letter to the sky while in tokyo 02.18


2018


of 2018 12.31
love spelt itself out 11.10
accountability, dead watson 11.10
a line 10.28
ang tindera maldita 07.01
pain, pain 02.19
shibuya 02.05


2017


little maddening 12.11
self coaching 12.10
daze for days 11.26
inbetween 11.19
cool electric 11.06
heavy nights 10.29
A. Lopez street 10.23
sigarilyo sa kadlawn 10.21
It took five pages 10.08
it’s temporary 10.05
progress report 10.02
clouds for mountains 09.26
monster 09.19
moving on 09.08
cloud 08.28
i am realizing that 08.25
breather 08.21
mean drugs 08.18
funk on some esum 08.14
allusions to a diary 08.14
punctuation 08.06
amber waves (an ode to beer) 07.29
watching planes 07.02
dire nights 06.18
change by loss 06.07
good work 05.22
asleep, most lovable 02.14
cheers darlin’ 02.14

2016


sweater in a dream 11.04
baby driver 11.04
i‘m writing 08.16
blond I-III 08.08
drunk on the moon 06.18
oyster or hell 06.17
the peaks and the folds 06.13
coltrane’s after the rain 06.12

2015


there is rain behind 08.04
between flesh 04.16
flakes of burning 04.16
family prayer before meal 03.12

2014


thunderstorms 10.01
for the taking 09.20
smoke around 08.15
radiohead 08.06

2013


oh woman 03.23

2012


suppress 10.23
perks 08.17
Life 08.03
moving colors 06.27
no rhymes 06.09
beads of light 05.25
soliloquy 05.25
hunger dreams 04.30
white steed 04.12
condition your mind 02.27
time 02.20
Home 02.18
as i read the house of leaves 02.12
cracked 01.27
a litter of metaphors 01.24
!cutter 01.24
here’s how 01.13
a note on style 01.10
about Facebook 01.08
feet on my hands 01.06

2011


on technology 12.30
red tape 12.30
!ideation 11.02
edge of desire 07.14
dome of blue 06.15
hermit confessions 05.18
infidelity 05.09
keep the faith 04.29

2009


monologue i 11.01
if only 10.31
the price we pay 10.28
please be safe 10.26
bipolar 10.20


blond I-III


Blond I
when i was 17, i rode my bike downtown — it was new territory for me, lots of cars, lots of streets i was already familiar with but never really committed to memory. after being half-lost for a while i found what i was looking for: six strings, decent sound, light enough for nimble hands. ok. paid the old man a few week’s worth of student savings. got myself some paint tubes too. now when i started heading back home it started to drizzle. i should be fine, home’s like 10 minutes away. but the rain came down heavier and heavier so swiftly– it was a downpour – no mercy — i had no helmet on, no hat, no coat, no nothing. one hand on the handlebar, the other clutching the >>small guitar<<. i was pedaling madly down the highway, couldn’t even wipe the water from my eyes, other drivers were looking at me like i was batshit craZy. well i got home ok. did i love her? what i can tell you is that she gave me wind beneath my wings. i was 17 when she became a story. and for the life of me i do not know how it should end because, well, she left the city just as swiftly as the rain came on me.
i have loved and left other people since.

Blond II
between 2012 and 2013 i lived a mAgniFiCent life. i left home, abandoned a degree and a scholarship, lived alone, earned and left many jobs, got hungry in between jobs, experimented on and assaulted my body with >>chemicals<<, met a girl and fell in >>love<<. i went through a phase wherein a bungee cord and a door knob were my go-to uppers. sometimes i wonder if i got slightly brain damaged from it. but it was then i knew that maybe i can be, and really am a good girl because i couldn’t get addicted to anything and i missed my family so much that i moved back home. also i was lucky enough to touch the girl as much as she touched me and we settled down. fast forward to now, i can say that so much has been stripped of me but i get it now. most of what we thought we know of love is a folly, it is as complex as our SEA of emotions, of the human condition. knowing this, it is much easier to accept love for what it is.

Blond III
as a kid they always ask you, what you want to be when you grow up. i wanted to be so many things. i wanted to be everything. the average human lifespan was not enough. our waking hours were not enough. if only we didn’t need to sleep so much. i had this fear of growing old, and it is this fear that made me abandon anything that i thought took too long. you could say i wasted a good number of years. yeah, i took my sweet time, but i am now sure of one thing, the surest i’ve ever been. that i can be anything, take on any role, no obligations to anyone, but what matters most is how much i’ve seen and how much i’ve felt. i always tell myself, there is so much more than what surrounds you.