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Tonight We Slurp in Color
From Tonight We Slurp in Color's cover:
"Tonight We Slurp in Color delights in its desire to disrespect everyone and everything. Lovers and friends, fictional characters and quasi-celebrities, the poet herself: they’re violently displayed in the most compromising positions, bacon strips and oven toasters and whatnot sputtering out of their orifices. Even Serious Issues™ are treated with deliberate callousness, viciously whittled down into tropes advancing a perspective that’s Baudelairean in its mania for the depraved and the disgusting. Aggression trumps affinity; shock trumps shame. But the annihilatory energy is couched in poetry that’s hyper-agile in its catalogs and mind-blowing in its narrative surprises, the salacious content powered by an imagination as generous as an orgy." - poet Mark Anthony Cayanan
"Andrea V. Tubig’s Tonight We Slurp in Color is preoccupied with surfaces, which is to say: this book does not prefer depth but instead: a mask made out of a dead dog’s face; dreams of sunburnt flamingoes and naked men diving into pools of guyabano juice; scum-like frappuccino looking like Satan’s shit. Saying no to the stasis of depth means saying yes to motion of metonyms: the persona gives her muse a blowjob, and his orgasm consists of “vegetable oil, beer, picture frames, fried chicken, cathedral debris, stationery, diced carrots, bacon strips, [and] bullets.” Tubig’s poems startle not because of meaning but because of movement, a refusal to stay still, despite strictures, such as, say, the alphabet: “Swain. Stripling. Staminate. Stallion. Tweety Bird. Tuna. Tom. The worst. Teenager. Tiger. Tom or Drake.” The metonyms accumulate, though there is no wholeness in the pile up, only an awareness of the gaps are as forceful as the parts. The poems are typified by capacious sentences and surprising elements that come one after another, but surface activity is longing in disguise, a desire to reach out, regardless of the prospect of rejection: “I fix my eyes on the door and you are nowhere to be found. Please let me sleep. I am fucking exhausted. The coffee shop’s about to close. Tomorrow, I’ll wait again. Same time, same place. Hopefully, tomorrow, I’ll recognize you.” In other words: “Type of electrical coupling. Type of bonding. Unruly. Unstable.”" - poet and critic Vincenz Serrano
"Tonight We Slurp in Color delights in its desire to disrespect everyone and everything. Lovers and friends, fictional characters and quasi-celebrities, the poet herself: they’re violently displayed in the most compromising positions, bacon strips and oven toasters and whatnot sputtering out of their orifices. Even Serious Issues™ are treated with deliberate callousness, viciously whittled down into tropes advancing a perspective that’s Baudelairean in its mania for the depraved and the disgusting. Aggression trumps affinity; shock trumps shame. But the annihilatory energy is couched in poetry that’s hyper-agile in its catalogs and mind-blowing in its narrative surprises, the salacious content powered by an imagination as generous as an orgy." - poet Mark Anthony Cayanan
"Andrea V. Tubig’s Tonight We Slurp in Color is preoccupied with surfaces, which is to say: this book does not prefer depth but instead: a mask made out of a dead dog’s face; dreams of sunburnt flamingoes and naked men diving into pools of guyabano juice; scum-like frappuccino looking like Satan’s shit. Saying no to the stasis of depth means saying yes to motion of metonyms: the persona gives her muse a blowjob, and his orgasm consists of “vegetable oil, beer, picture frames, fried chicken, cathedral debris, stationery, diced carrots, bacon strips, [and] bullets.” Tubig’s poems startle not because of meaning but because of movement, a refusal to stay still, despite strictures, such as, say, the alphabet: “Swain. Stripling. Staminate. Stallion. Tweety Bird. Tuna. Tom. The worst. Teenager. Tiger. Tom or Drake.” The metonyms accumulate, though there is no wholeness in the pile up, only an awareness of the gaps are as forceful as the parts. The poems are typified by capacious sentences and surprising elements that come one after another, but surface activity is longing in disguise, a desire to reach out, regardless of the prospect of rejection: “I fix my eyes on the door and you are nowhere to be found. Please let me sleep. I am fucking exhausted. The coffee shop’s about to close. Tomorrow, I’ll wait again. Same time, same place. Hopefully, tomorrow, I’ll recognize you.” In other words: “Type of electrical coupling. Type of bonding. Unruly. Unstable.”" - poet and critic Vincenz Serrano
- GenresPoetry
54 pages, Paperback
Published April 21, 2017
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Displaying 1 - 21 of 21 reviews
October 22, 2025
this might be my third or fourth reread of the collection. and it is still so fresh and vibrant and nothing competes with it. when i read poetry. this is what i want to see. it is so genuine. whimsical. and so real. this is a generational treasure and capsule.
August 15, 2025
Why We Are Compelled to Stare: Andrea V. Tubig and Tonight We Slurp in Color
Reading Andrea V. Tubig’s “Tonight We Slurp In Colors” (2017) appropriately feels like a one-night stand - and not just any one-night stand, but the best, most indulgent sex ever. It’s the kind of sex where your sexual partner fades in the memory, distorted and faceless, but the ghost of their tongue still burns, tracing liquid fire on your thighs. No other poetry collection will ride you, spit on you, and penetrate you like “Tonight We Slurp in Color” will.
Andrea Tubig’s poetry embodies the sublime: pushing the boundaries of what is socially acceptable by taking sex, violence, addiction, spit, and a unicorn and melting them all together in a pot. The product of this abominable concoction? A famished cunt with tender, red rims. This, however, does not mean every poem in the collection is about mindless, steamy sex - quite the opposite, actually. In every thrust of her lustful words there is a longing that begs to be felt, to be sucked, and to be cuddled. In her poem Andy Tubig, for example, the picture of her vagina exudes a vulgarity that is frowned upon by most; the lines, on the other hand, tell a different thing:
Near-sighted poet
Always too bold,
Too coarse,
Too messy,
Too thick,
Too loose,
For you
[Tubig 18]
The way I see it, Andrea Tubig’s persona in the poem has been naked for most of her life, exposed and touched multiple times. Still, underneath the layers of sticky cum and her vulnerability is a boldness that doesn’t regret anything. There is no shame, either, only a sense of yearning for something - or anything, really - because the novelty of regular sex is gone. The world has become too dull for this poor, amorous woman and it seems like no man can satisfy her. This intense hunger for such a carnal desire is unbecoming for a lady; but Andrea Tubig doesn’t care. She’s shameless. She’s angry. She’s horny. She needs a fuck. She needs a man, or a lesbian, or an artist - no, not an artist (they’re crazy!) - or an avocado, yes, an avocado will do. The weight of her words does not come from the indecency of her spreading her legs to the world and terrorizing anyone within vicinity by using a megaphone as a dildo, her poems are powerful because they’re her own, no one else’s but her own. This ownership of language and the ability to speak ushers a sense of freedom for women to voice their rawest desires and wear it like a shiny medal, no longer governed by the constraints set upon by patriarchy to reinforce their control over what women could and not say. Women are allowed to be bastos, too - and look at how good at being bastos Andrea Tubig is:
Paint dripped from their dicks, the colors of their fluids mixed like soup made of sky and cement. Their sex recreated, the best in centuries. A Painted Fuck. 69 x 69. Cum on Canvas. Still life. [Tubig 15]
Key word: allowed - when a person is allowed to do something, they have permission to fuck bananas and if they don’t want to, well, that’s okay, too. The point of the matter here: if every single woman in the world has the opportunity to write another “Tonight We Slurp in Colors'' without feeling like they’re on a death row, women could cultivate a stronger culture for dismantling every aspect of patriarchy - for sexual liberation is political liberation, and political liberation is the removal of restrictions in all forms and shapes (or some well-established scholar would say; I, personally, would just like to read more erotica written by women).
The Exhibitionist and the Voyeur
Andrea Tubig ties her readers in a pole and dances around it doing whatever. As a reader, you’re looking at her naked body because she has compelled you to look at her body. Her striking command to captivate the audience lies in the distinct cadence of her voice. It’s erratic, rapid-fire, chaotic, sharp, witty, and trashy - definitely a voice that came from someone who has a lot of experience, not in sex necessarily, but in life: in hurting, in loving, and everything else in between. It’s a poetry collection of bruising knees because the persona has been praying in earnest - or, has been sucking their boyfriend’s dick too much, either way it works. With Andrea Tubig’s writing, the female body is not sexualized in a way that she doesn’t want to; she is rather perceived and gawked at according to her will and agency. She talks about things the way she wants to - the reader doesn’t have to understand, they just have to listen and take everything in.
He says it was the best day of his life. She even let him shove the cue stick up her ass. But the best part, he says, is how her pussy tastes like sun-dried tomatoes. Can you believe it? [Tubig 41]
Serious matters like adultery, pedophilia, and abandonment is handled in her unique Andrea Tubig way. These topics are glossed over and are drowned in the onslaught of emotions pertaining to the “why”, rather than answering “what”.Why would she continue to wait for a muse who’s obviously never going to show up? And why would she write about it at all? It’s simple: it’s because she can. Her storytelling is not limited by the norm and the traditional, she’s taking charge of her narratives and telling them her own voice, in her own volition, her own timing, in her own pacing, and her own way. There is a sense of “wildness” in her writing that’s reminiscent of the turbulent storms of growing up as a woman, or as someone who’s trying to figure out life with some certain upsets and difficulties - and she’s trying to relay that to the audience the same way she experienced them: confusingly charming, sinfully euphoric, and blissfully painful.
To me, this wildness and freedom should be an encouragement for women to let go of their inhibitions and write what they want to write, feel what they feel, and have orgasms whenever (and wherever) they want to. Tonight We Slurp in Colors is an invitation to celebrate: the messy world of womanhood, the painful nights of unreciprocated tenderness, and the explosive rage of the female race.
On Power
The absurdity of her sexual encounters in the collection touches on a sense of surrealism. The line that divides the real and the fantasy is blurred. She’s wondering about how to fuck a telletubby? God forbid a girl has hobbies, right? Reiterating the sense of freedom discussed earlier, the existence of “Tonight We Slurp in Colors” is proof that women are capable of being as dirty, sleazy, and sticky as men can be - so, they should write about it more, experience it more, and speak about it more. Andrea Tubig’s erotic writing fosters a boldness that champions the female libidinal desire, unrestrained and unlimited. In the very veins of these poems, there is power; power to refuse men, men who finish early, men who don’t finish at all, men who stay, and those who leave; power to demand kisses, a certain position, speed, depth, a lick, a suck, hope, and worship; power to give a blowjob, finger, tongue, time, space, poem, paradise, and love; power to keep a blue hair, condom, condoms with cum, cum without condom, a lover, and a mother; power to lose virginity, sanity, and little bit of dignity - power to just about to do anything
But this poem isn’t good enough, so now I’m gonna write about how I slept with my childhood friend’s ex-boyfriend, except this clearly has something to do about sex. And sex is clichéd and spiteful. Or so my mother says. So now I’m writing about my brother’s left foot. [Tubig 46]
No matter how many times you read and experience Andre Tubig’s writing, it always feels like a one-night stand; that pound-me-like-it’s-the-end-of-world kind of sex with a strange, exotic looking man that you met when you were soul searching in a faraway town where no one knows you. There is a strange comfort in knowing that, in some way, you’ll never be able to recreate the best sex of your life ever, and the guy you’re in cahoots with will never see you again - so you’re free to fantasize over and over again, the memory is internally seared in your mind and the steam of your naughty adventures kisses you from time to time - reading Tonight We Slurp in Colors is a recreation of this feeling. There is always a new detail to discover and a different perspective to appreciate. It never runs out of knots for the reader to untangle.
My final piece on Andrea Tubig and her erotic writing: I like the consistent speaker throughout the poems. There is a strong personality that will let you look at her, touch her, bite her, finger her, chain her, whip her, open her stomach and eat her guts out like a starving caveman but you’re not allowed to ask about the guy whoso picture sits neatly on her bedside table - establishing boundaries is very nice, you know, you should try it some time.
Reading Andrea V. Tubig’s “Tonight We Slurp In Colors” (2017) appropriately feels like a one-night stand - and not just any one-night stand, but the best, most indulgent sex ever. It’s the kind of sex where your sexual partner fades in the memory, distorted and faceless, but the ghost of their tongue still burns, tracing liquid fire on your thighs. No other poetry collection will ride you, spit on you, and penetrate you like “Tonight We Slurp in Color” will.
Andrea Tubig’s poetry embodies the sublime: pushing the boundaries of what is socially acceptable by taking sex, violence, addiction, spit, and a unicorn and melting them all together in a pot. The product of this abominable concoction? A famished cunt with tender, red rims. This, however, does not mean every poem in the collection is about mindless, steamy sex - quite the opposite, actually. In every thrust of her lustful words there is a longing that begs to be felt, to be sucked, and to be cuddled. In her poem Andy Tubig, for example, the picture of her vagina exudes a vulgarity that is frowned upon by most; the lines, on the other hand, tell a different thing:
Near-sighted poet
Always too bold,
Too coarse,
Too messy,
Too thick,
Too loose,
For you
[Tubig 18]
The way I see it, Andrea Tubig’s persona in the poem has been naked for most of her life, exposed and touched multiple times. Still, underneath the layers of sticky cum and her vulnerability is a boldness that doesn’t regret anything. There is no shame, either, only a sense of yearning for something - or anything, really - because the novelty of regular sex is gone. The world has become too dull for this poor, amorous woman and it seems like no man can satisfy her. This intense hunger for such a carnal desire is unbecoming for a lady; but Andrea Tubig doesn’t care. She’s shameless. She’s angry. She’s horny. She needs a fuck. She needs a man, or a lesbian, or an artist - no, not an artist (they’re crazy!) - or an avocado, yes, an avocado will do. The weight of her words does not come from the indecency of her spreading her legs to the world and terrorizing anyone within vicinity by using a megaphone as a dildo, her poems are powerful because they’re her own, no one else’s but her own. This ownership of language and the ability to speak ushers a sense of freedom for women to voice their rawest desires and wear it like a shiny medal, no longer governed by the constraints set upon by patriarchy to reinforce their control over what women could and not say. Women are allowed to be bastos, too - and look at how good at being bastos Andrea Tubig is:
Paint dripped from their dicks, the colors of their fluids mixed like soup made of sky and cement. Their sex recreated, the best in centuries. A Painted Fuck. 69 x 69. Cum on Canvas. Still life. [Tubig 15]
Key word: allowed - when a person is allowed to do something, they have permission to fuck bananas and if they don’t want to, well, that’s okay, too. The point of the matter here: if every single woman in the world has the opportunity to write another “Tonight We Slurp in Colors'' without feeling like they’re on a death row, women could cultivate a stronger culture for dismantling every aspect of patriarchy - for sexual liberation is political liberation, and political liberation is the removal of restrictions in all forms and shapes (or some well-established scholar would say; I, personally, would just like to read more erotica written by women).
The Exhibitionist and the Voyeur
Andrea Tubig ties her readers in a pole and dances around it doing whatever. As a reader, you’re looking at her naked body because she has compelled you to look at her body. Her striking command to captivate the audience lies in the distinct cadence of her voice. It’s erratic, rapid-fire, chaotic, sharp, witty, and trashy - definitely a voice that came from someone who has a lot of experience, not in sex necessarily, but in life: in hurting, in loving, and everything else in between. It’s a poetry collection of bruising knees because the persona has been praying in earnest - or, has been sucking their boyfriend’s dick too much, either way it works. With Andrea Tubig’s writing, the female body is not sexualized in a way that she doesn’t want to; she is rather perceived and gawked at according to her will and agency. She talks about things the way she wants to - the reader doesn’t have to understand, they just have to listen and take everything in.
He says it was the best day of his life. She even let him shove the cue stick up her ass. But the best part, he says, is how her pussy tastes like sun-dried tomatoes. Can you believe it? [Tubig 41]
Serious matters like adultery, pedophilia, and abandonment is handled in her unique Andrea Tubig way. These topics are glossed over and are drowned in the onslaught of emotions pertaining to the “why”, rather than answering “what”.Why would she continue to wait for a muse who’s obviously never going to show up? And why would she write about it at all? It’s simple: it’s because she can. Her storytelling is not limited by the norm and the traditional, she’s taking charge of her narratives and telling them her own voice, in her own volition, her own timing, in her own pacing, and her own way. There is a sense of “wildness” in her writing that’s reminiscent of the turbulent storms of growing up as a woman, or as someone who’s trying to figure out life with some certain upsets and difficulties - and she’s trying to relay that to the audience the same way she experienced them: confusingly charming, sinfully euphoric, and blissfully painful.
To me, this wildness and freedom should be an encouragement for women to let go of their inhibitions and write what they want to write, feel what they feel, and have orgasms whenever (and wherever) they want to. Tonight We Slurp in Colors is an invitation to celebrate: the messy world of womanhood, the painful nights of unreciprocated tenderness, and the explosive rage of the female race.
On Power
The absurdity of her sexual encounters in the collection touches on a sense of surrealism. The line that divides the real and the fantasy is blurred. She’s wondering about how to fuck a telletubby? God forbid a girl has hobbies, right? Reiterating the sense of freedom discussed earlier, the existence of “Tonight We Slurp in Colors” is proof that women are capable of being as dirty, sleazy, and sticky as men can be - so, they should write about it more, experience it more, and speak about it more. Andrea Tubig’s erotic writing fosters a boldness that champions the female libidinal desire, unrestrained and unlimited. In the very veins of these poems, there is power; power to refuse men, men who finish early, men who don’t finish at all, men who stay, and those who leave; power to demand kisses, a certain position, speed, depth, a lick, a suck, hope, and worship; power to give a blowjob, finger, tongue, time, space, poem, paradise, and love; power to keep a blue hair, condom, condoms with cum, cum without condom, a lover, and a mother; power to lose virginity, sanity, and little bit of dignity - power to just about to do anything
But this poem isn’t good enough, so now I’m gonna write about how I slept with my childhood friend’s ex-boyfriend, except this clearly has something to do about sex. And sex is clichéd and spiteful. Or so my mother says. So now I’m writing about my brother’s left foot. [Tubig 46]
No matter how many times you read and experience Andre Tubig’s writing, it always feels like a one-night stand; that pound-me-like-it’s-the-end-of-world kind of sex with a strange, exotic looking man that you met when you were soul searching in a faraway town where no one knows you. There is a strange comfort in knowing that, in some way, you’ll never be able to recreate the best sex of your life ever, and the guy you’re in cahoots with will never see you again - so you’re free to fantasize over and over again, the memory is internally seared in your mind and the steam of your naughty adventures kisses you from time to time - reading Tonight We Slurp in Colors is a recreation of this feeling. There is always a new detail to discover and a different perspective to appreciate. It never runs out of knots for the reader to untangle.
My final piece on Andrea Tubig and her erotic writing: I like the consistent speaker throughout the poems. There is a strong personality that will let you look at her, touch her, bite her, finger her, chain her, whip her, open her stomach and eat her guts out like a starving caveman but you’re not allowed to ask about the guy whoso picture sits neatly on her bedside table - establishing boundaries is very nice, you know, you should try it some time.
January 6, 2024
I am not exaggerating when I say this is the best poetry collection ever published. This is imaginative yet depraved, humorous yet troublesome, welcoming yet disrespectful. This is meant neither for the faint-hearted nor the morally upright. Andrea V. Tubig doesn’t give a single fuck about the sensibilities and celebrities she might offend with her poems. She knows damn well what she’s written, and she tells you that from time to time throughout this book in a self-reflexive manner only wicked individuals like poets can demonstrate. I’m starting to think she is the Angelo V. Suarez of female Filipino poets: her debut poetry collection was published before she earned her bachelor’s degree, plus the level of sex drive she displays here is the same level of sex drive Suarez displays in his second book. (Not to mention that their middle names start with the same letter, plus the title of her book has the same number of words as the title of Suarez’s second book.) Talk about a start! Tubig’s brain can be a subject of study by scientists and writers alike for the way it comes up with images that only sinners can come up with but even the most prude reader can understand.
June 14, 2023
anecdotal review:
when i first stumbled upon "Muse Stuck in Traffic" in late 2021, i knew i was never the same person as i was ever again. reading that poem, i promised myself i will read this book in full soon but i didn't get to read it anywhere. come 2022 in BLTX, i was able to get a copy of one of Miss Andrea's poetry zine (shrike) and I fell in love more with her writing. this three year long search and I finally got a hold of the poetry collection and it's even better than what I have expected. Andrea Tubig is definitely one of the best poets we have here right now and I adore her and her work so much.
when i first stumbled upon "Muse Stuck in Traffic" in late 2021, i knew i was never the same person as i was ever again. reading that poem, i promised myself i will read this book in full soon but i didn't get to read it anywhere. come 2022 in BLTX, i was able to get a copy of one of Miss Andrea's poetry zine (shrike) and I fell in love more with her writing. this three year long search and I finally got a hold of the poetry collection and it's even better than what I have expected. Andrea Tubig is definitely one of the best poets we have here right now and I adore her and her work so much.
September 27, 2024
My definition of FEMALE RAGE!!!
Scandalous. Provocative. Liberating. This book (as well as Ladlad) made me realize how erotica transcends the exploration of pleasure and fantasy. It delves in problematizing identity that is often overlooked if not unseen. It is a reclamation of identity and power. In this book, Andrea aggressively serves a fresh and daring perspective of self-discovery and liberation.
Indeed, literature as refuge—where rage and salaciousness is not only allowed but is also celebrated.
Scandalous. Provocative. Liberating. This book (as well as Ladlad) made me realize how erotica transcends the exploration of pleasure and fantasy. It delves in problematizing identity that is often overlooked if not unseen. It is a reclamation of identity and power. In this book, Andrea aggressively serves a fresh and daring perspective of self-discovery and liberation.
Indeed, literature as refuge—where rage and salaciousness is not only allowed but is also celebrated.
November 10, 2025
fuck, this is so POWERFUL. read this around September but it still wouldn't leave my mind. the voice here, it's so angry, so transformative, so vivid, so vicious and unapologetic. wow. wonderful subversion of patriarchal power in society. i love how it questions what it means to be a Filipina woman-poet in today's society---how one must navigate and negotiate for her place in the throes of conservativism, western imperialism, patriarchy, and other multitudes of social pressure in contemporary Philippine society. so violent and righteously so. love u Andrea V. Tubig.
May 14, 2025
“I wanted to bite Sid Lucero's third nipple off and feed it to a random starving child selling sampaguita, but I didn't because Confucius taught me filial piety. But Confucius is a fucking piece of feudalist crap, and families are overrated, so I bit it off anyway. ”
18/25 my jam
18/25 my jam
August 28, 2025
We don't deserve women in Philippine Literature because what is this masterpiece. Even if sex is at the foreground of the collection, it does not overshadow the experience of human rawness and liberation that transcends body and emotion.
I finally have this after years of searching for the book!
I finally have this after years of searching for the book!
Read
January 10, 2026Have been looking for a copy for quite a long time and I finally got to read the expanded version (also dubbed as the more feral one) published by Vibal. Already claiming it as one of my favorite reads this year.
July 2, 2017
Refreshingly irreverent. Each poem, each line is a shock of dirty color through your system.
December 9, 2017
Enjoyed it thoroughly. Love all this rage!!!!!
April 15, 2021
telling everyone i talk to about it. so unapologetic and exquisite !!!!! my new fav poetry book <3 <3
May 26, 2023
andrea tubig u are amazing i will read anything u write
June 28, 2023
ANDREA TUBIG YOU ARE A GOD
January 15, 2024
lovely writing ! i can't believe i share a name with a person mentioned in one of the poems
October 15, 2025
unapologetically erotic. another side of poetry that is raw and absurd and salacious.
November 23, 2025
this book is so yum!!
August 16, 2021
Poetry was so vivid I couldn't put it down! Andy's works made me think, made me feel, and made me want to write like her. I want to read more of her works but it's the only one she has released so far. Hence, I re-read it again and wasn't able to put it down... again!
Solid 5/5!
Solid 5/5!
December 21, 2023
andrea tubig is the kind of woman i want to paint my nails and have sleep overs with and buy flowers for
Displaying 1 - 21 of 21 reviews