Habemus Corsarium

I am all of these names. I am none of them. I am a multifaceted gem sparkling a thousand dreams, a thousand nightmares. I am your buddy, your adversary, your comedy, your tragedy, your prose, your poetry, your life, your death, your unlife.

I am Phillip Yerro Kimpo Jr. A typical complete birth certificate name -- a first name, a mother's maiden name, a surname. And a Jr. to mark me as a successor to some throne, a nominal rip-off even. To my utmost joy, there is no second name attached to Phillip, the ones generously given by the queer parents of my generation. Luckily I didn’t end up as Phillip Alexander (which would’ve been bad, considering I want my son to be Alexander the Great and me Phillip of the Philippines), or Phillip Paul (which would’ve been bad, because that’d mean I was just another Christian name-clone, and of course, Phillip Paul simply sounds awful), or even (heaven forbid) Phillip Giovanni. Without a second name, this chap’s truly inimitable in his generation -- Phillip Jr. Wait, does Jr. count as a second name? Damn.

I am Philos Stormblade. The hero of my swords-and-sorcery fantasy saga. You’re thinking, what an insipid name. But isn’t that the case with your name? Or mine for that matter. Philos means love; Phillip means lover of horses. Stormblade is a pedestrian high-fantasy surname denoting a, yes, blade of the storms; Kimpo is supposedly Korean for port of gold. What’s the diff? Absolutely none. It’s not in the meaning of the name; it’s in how you put meaning into it. It’s not about carrying the name; it’s about living it.

I am Phillip Kimpo Jr. A name without a middle name. There's no reason to put it there, for she is not here. Give explicit credit where credit is due, and implicit discredit where discredit is due.

I am Kidlat Karimlan. The Dark Lightning. The hero of my Tagalog short story for social change. The title is a paradox, lightning is chaos. Enough said.

I am Phillip Kimpo II. The II makes me an Emperor. Didn’t you know? Philip of Macedon was Philip II. Told you, my son is going to be Alexander the Great. And do you actually think Emperor Phillip Jr. is going to strike fear into the hearts of my foes? Jr. is for the boys. I am a man.

I am P.Y. Kimpo. A dreadful, uncalled-for imitation of T.S. Eliot. Makes me feel like a famous writer already. And yes, it is a nifty shortcut. Downside? My mother’s partaking of the fame.

I am Kimpo. To my friends, there’s no Phillip; there’s only Kimpo. Good morning, Kimpo! O Kimpo, kamusta na? Bwiset ‘tong si Kimpo e! It’s alright; after all, I am my family. I am the Clan within the Man. Kimpo -- Korean or Filipino, it matters not. I am a nation of my own.

I am the Corsarius. Simply, a corsair. Captain of my own ship, terror of Life’s seedy ports. Tavern of preference -- The Crimson Pen. Barmaid of preference -- any of the Greek Muses. Molded by twenty years of pain and hardship, and prone to moments of deep angst. I do throw tantrums, but tantrums of the pen. I am a corsair, not a pirate. I am a swashbuckler, not a buccaneer. I express my angst with panache and wit, not with demented aggression. With the pen as my cutlass, I will set sail and claim the seven seas as my own.

I am PYKJ. I am Phil the Insipid-titled. I am the Junior. I am Light Darkning. I am the Second. I am P.Y. Eliot. I am Kimps. I am Cors. I am all of these names. I am none of them.

I am who I am. I am who I! I am who? I am.

I.