Let’s put it this way, if I take this writing stuff full time, I may not get hungry but I’ll have to live like Bukowski. I reckon he lived a life that nourished his soul and nurtured his talent. At least the part after he quit his postal job trying to be a bread winner. Bukowski is my favorite poet since after I bought Pearl Jam 5th album “Yield” and Ed scribbled something about Buk in the liner notes. I stumbled upon his book inside Popular bookstore, a subversive bookstore
At three in the afternoon, after the 3 o’clock habit prayer, we’d usually hear a booming voice from a block away.
“ELA! ELA!” In short explosive baritone you’d think it was from a military staff sergeant. Everybody calls him Kuya Bak even if he was our lolo. He had a mean, tough face that has seen war and dealt death in the war zone. He survived the Japanese occupation fighting for our country’s freedom.
He is calling for his wife, Perla, for the afternoon snack, meryenda. Ate Ela, will have to stop
It was 1998, I had a green Alcatel phone that was shaped like a soap. It rang with Ma’am Yoli on the opposite line. It was 9 am and she said she had donuts.
I, on the other hand, had nothing. I had nothing going on. I was 20, and I felt like I was running out of opportunities. Out of college, I tried to work in hopes of getting to a college with a course I like. It didn’t happen.
At that moment I had donuts. It was a bait. A lure to get me back in Bulacan State. I don’t know much about Ma’am Yoli, except for that genuine interest for my stories.
I find it amusing that we are taught to pray for prosperity, for material things to be given to us. By preachers whose claim to fame is guaranteeing a rich man’s life to his followers. He got rich by swindling you with a false idea. With your contribution, you guarantee his prosperity. With his prosperity you will equate his success as proof of his infallible faith. Something you can hold on to and replicate. I don’t understand how the rephrased and reprised mantra of “give me your money and I’ll show you how to get rich” scheme works every time. But it does.
It is the most audacious claim we can have about life. Owning time, wasting time and giving it away (I have time, I can give you time and waste time reading my blog)
What do we really have then? We can be lazy and let the chips fall where they may, and they will. The littlest of efforts will get us somewhere. We are projectiles in a planet in constant motion. With a mind that seeks meaning.
Now this is power. Another reason to hate the “self proclaimed king,” a “usurper to the throne”, a “prima donna of the league”. Aren’t you glad to be a San Antonio band wagoner right now? The only team not affected by the hoopla.
Melo would’ve been talking strategy with Kobe by now, Bosh would’ve been enjoying the cash, and Granger would be the LeBron replacement, the new Robin when the aging Batman has to play lead hero again. But all of that has got to wait.
Pinned at the ceiling of my room at Catmon, Malolos is the rockin’ alternative duo called M2M. Sinfully bubblegum but not sexually charged, the duo from Norway sang from a 16 y.o. perspective unlike Britney. They chirped, played instruments and wrote their own songs. Their song landed on the Pokemon movie soundtrack.
Maybe the poster was a reminder. A sarcastic statement against all the Pearl Jam albums that my brain was sonically marinating to.
My father was a big man with big heavy arms who doesn’t like to sleep with the lights on but is afraid of the dark. He doesn’t like to sleep alone. And he’d lock me with his burly arms like logs… Snoring logs. Now I realize how overwhelmingly happy such gesture makes a father. I always want to hug my daughter and son till I doze off. I know they are feeling how I felt then. I try to explain or control the need to keep them within reach. Some things are only seen when you’re at the other side of the fence.
This happened the other day. Thanks to Team Manila.
It’s nice to know that his writing processes are similar to mine. About how inspiration takes over and how rewarding is the result. The only difference is that his appeals to a wider audience. That may just be purely incidental. I wish.
Why do we write? Why do we do it? For me, it has always been a tool for acceptance as a receiver or transmitter. I’ve always found something about the outside world hard to understand, relate and adhere to. Especially if things are shoved within a pace of one’s life without explanation. Writing is like a tree branch reaching out to the sky while the roots(our mind) is reaching deep into the earth.
photo courtesy of officiallyphilippines
Marahil madalas mo itong naririnig, ang hamon sa iyong kasalukuyang estado: “Malaya ka ba?” . O di kaya yung mas matinding pagsuma sa iyong kalagayan na naka ankla sa mga takot, hangganan at mga hindi mo kayang gawin: “Hindi ka malaya!”
Sunod nito ay ang paglista ng lahat ng iyong kahinaan laban sa matinding kasamaan na namamayagpag sa ngayon. Ang pangarap mo ay ilusyon, pero ang mga di ka-nais nais ay parang sapot na sumakop ng isang sulok ng iyong kamalayan. Basta nandyan na lang sya. Sunod ka na lang.
danDAman 