in thin air (11.18.2010)
The other of my two readers recently asked for the latest serving, hinted that the kitchen was already gathering dust. When I finally dropped by to look, I noticed that the place really needed some cleaning: the pots were unturned, the china untouched in the pantry, the LPG needed refilling.
One time, I lost the stirring to cook and suddenly had the urge to become an 'astronaut', a clever euphemism by my former teammates. Geared up, I soon found myself floating freely aboard the Loosen Up shuttle. Due to some spins of the space and time continuum, I lost count on how long I had been out there.
There's some good in being far out. The 'space' gives you, well, space. Away from interruptions and disruptions. Away from distortions and derision. In space, there's nothing but silence and stillness.
Or so I thought.
In space, there's a bigger expanse for other and bigger disturbances: the asteroids and meteoroids move around without restraint. Although they move in orbits within cosmic belts, disruptive gravitational influences by other celestial bodies can cause them to move eccentrically hence cause a collision the damage of which could be of cosmic proportions. I just thought of Armageddon and it sends me shivers.
While on space I realized that in this life,there's no escaping from interruptions, disruptions, distortions and derision. They are everywhere in the freest of orbits. But not all have diameters that measure in kilometers. I learned that many are just a tiny speck of dust.
Easier written than done. But in space, there's not even room and time for writing. Everything just floats.
While on space, I missed out on family and friends and will be needing a lot of catch-ups. But I knew the rats and the cockroahes have prepared me a welcome as well.
The disruptions will be coming in shortly, but for now, I'll buy some time to catch a breath of fresh air.
pulacan chronicles (8.8.2010)
In talks about things that I remember about childhood, I usually shrug about not recalling much. What would typically come to mind are scenes of early tradgedies which I've been trying to consign to where they should best lay – the past. I surmise that these pangs of nostalgia should paint lively pigments to be worthy of storytelling. I suppose, not the case with mine.
But I realize that no story is unworthy to be told. Every bit of the past makes up the entire manuscript of your present. Every twist of the plot, no matter how likely they could make the whole project dense and scrawled are part and parcel of the story.
I decided to embark on a project which I coined the name pulacan chronicles. Pulacan is my side of town; it is where I was born, grew up and had a first taste of life. My story begins in Pulacan.
In this project, I will try to chronicle to the best facility my memory can deliver. This will be a personal project, the sort that will make future autobiography easy. But I hope, I will be leaving traces of morale as to a fable, in between the lines.
I will try not to be very subtle here. I will try to give in to the spontaneity of thoughts and the stories they will stir; like and unlike Isaac Mendez in Heroes, but only I will be painting the past. (Plus, I have long decided not to play a junkie).
There, I have just served the antipasto. I will be off to whip the entrée. Till then.
erratum (7.17.2010)
I vaguely remember an old chum's advice about wandering into another field. During my freshman year in college, I started to write in Filipino. Not because of some patriotic prodding. Way back, I sort of felt that where I attended, writing in Filipino is the road less travelled and I wanted to try trekking in a not so common path. I embarked on short stories and I penned down two, one of which I gave to that old chum as a gift. I even thought of submitting the other to a national magazine. That's how far-fetched my delusions can get.
But even these types of delusions will have their own comeuppance. Back then, it seemed that not one of the things that I was doing was adequate. Everything was just sooo baaaad. Everything just sort of sucked. So down with the pen and the yellow pad. Instead, for the next few years I tried to master journalizing numbers, not scripts.
Then you wake up to a day and grasp that some things will not leave you just as easy. Forward to six years after 2003. I started to breathe life again. Thanks to blogging.
I make no more delusions with checken counter. Enough with what-others-will-say-about-this stuff. This is a personal thing. If this appears to some as hollow or shallow, I'll give them that. I'll live with my own philosophies.
So if you're looking for some 'matters of significance' like perhaps reading a de Quiros, you won't see the rub in here. If you're expecting for a Bill Velasco commentary on the deferred Pacquiao-Mayweather brawl or why Uruguay should have been in the FIFA finals, I can provide a link for that. What I put in here are things that I see and how I see them, things that I may have to rebut myself when I am old and balding. But right now, this thing gives me some sense of self so I'll continue breathing life into it no matter how it's deemed pathetic and dim-witted.
Pardon this snap but some things are not better left unspoken. Swear this will be the last. I hope you understand that stuffs can sometimes get into you when you are called 'silly'.
kudos! (7.1.2010)
Thank you Spinach or suggesting that I change my in’s to at’s; my composition teacher should have been most thrilled. And for that, you’ll get another slice courtesy of the cook, of course. (Now, where’s that damn grammar guide?)
Very recently, we inaugurated this country’s newest President. I am not a huge fan; people in the office can very well attest to that claim but it’s not all dissent that I have to live for in the next six years in which P-Noy will be ‘the single most powerful Filipino’. I’m almost sappy at his message of hope and change – makes me want to pick-up the pieces of refuse across the street. Really, hope and change are the two things that may bring old loves back home. On a personal note, it’s my celestial calling not to add to the rumpus of denigration that may already be gaining ground somewhere in the plains but watchful eyes I will try not to wink. Trust my pledge of support and believe that I do not have any more vile words for bureaucratic grimes. For like those fourteen million, I am hopeful that they will be cleaned up.
Ian, a friend and former teammate is moving to a new place of assignment. If any consolation at all to Yang, Dixie and Diora who will be missing him dearly, he will be heading back home where better things might be waiting to happen. Thank you for being the team’s center, forward and guard. Yes, the team may be bound to miss some of the shots, but with your continued prayer and support, the match can still be won. To your games elsewhere, our prayers will wipe the sweat off your forehead. And in thought, we will be there to cheer for the slam dunks and three-points.
To my pop who maybe drinking Pale Pilsens and singing Kenny Rogers somewhere in the clouds, may our servings suit your taste of pulutan. In any case, it is still a happy birthday.
second round? (6.27.2010)
The shirt my nephew is wearing reads: lovers are lunatics. This is underneath the print of two clashing unicorns. While I don’t see the relevance (of the print to the line), this is not totally alien. We’ve heard Steve Perry’s heeding for the foolish heart. Lately, it’s Leona Lewis and Chris Brown. And then, there are these aphorisms.
Gives me the chills to try one more time.
Well, love. To some it’s reduced to one-liners. To my former team, it deserves the second round of sharing (up to the wee hours of dawn). To my officemates, it’s the snicker about the joke that’s on me.
To me, it’s the one thing that has left me snared in some vestiges of sanity. Now, I’m seeing more clearly and way past a pack of unicorns.
Meanwhile, enjoy the related servings. For giggles, you can foot the bill on me.