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


8.28.2022

second life


i visited home last week, and in between all of the piles of sentimental junk my mother blurted out, "…ikaw baya ang second life ni papa te" (you are your father's second life). not out of context of course, and i think i understand where it's coming from, though it took me by surprise. naturally, i respond with a tiny laugh; she is exaggerating.

i have thought about it several times since then. i felt closer to her than we already are, because by that statement alone, i knew we were wishing for the same thing. he couldn't be around longer than the cancer permitted him, so could he please at least live on through me, through my mother, through my sister?


i can never talk about this easily, and i have stopped after breaking down each time in front of someone. i saw him suffer from the inevitability, day by day watching himself wear away. he didn't talk much in his last weeks, but he made sure to tell us he loved us. i was losing him while i was still a disappointment, so i promised to him that i would pick up where i left off in my studies. (it sounds trivial in the context of that moment as i write it now, but i meant it) hours later, he breathed for the last time. we were there. we saw life leave him!

it takes enormous effort to heal from that. but what i have learned is that loving someone can bring you so much light as they leave you, not in the manner that can be had by any other way. perhaps that is the case for any suffering that comes out of love.

it's his day today. he would have been 60.