Archive for September, 2006

29
Sep

tears for a lady

Leaf_galleryplayer like all the girls from dragon mansion, she, too, had her foibles.  but i can never forget the generosity.  the Gap jeans. the night she accompanied me to a christmas party in 1999 along lacson street in bacolod and letting me stay the night in their alijis house. she could dance with the best of them.  she could not just sing but sing well.

but most of all, motherhood was her calling.  i was looking forward to have a glimpse of her basking in the delight of that calling.  i still couldn’t believe that she’s gone.  that hers is a life curtailed.  my heart is truly breaking.

27
Sep

numb

                Blue_hills_1           i’m so sad, i can’t feel.  i can’t comprehend my thoughts.  i just feel like staring into a wall.  numbness overwhelms my minute frame.  grief cuts us into pieces, bit by bit. life suddenly doesn’t have any meaning.  retrieving answers to what could have beens, what might have beens sucks.  really sucks.

26
Sep

crash and pain

       our pc crashed last week.  as i was in the midst of constructing something academic.  i was almost reduced to tears.  well, almost, as the tears fell last night when the pain in my hands were so severe that i couldn’t open our front door for two hours and i was left outside our flat lumbering at three in the morning.  the other half was at work, dealing with blood and more blood, in a scathingly distressing liver unit.       

     i could have asked the neighbors upstairs for help but it was three in the morning on a monday night. there seems to be some mysterious underpinnings on the type of work those girls do.  i don’t ask questions. i don’t even know their names.  very miranda hobbes.  but it was cold.  i don’t thrive in the cold.  my hands gets castigated in temperatures below 10 degrees.  WinterAutumn_galleryplayer_1 

      it took more than two hours but my knight as always, came to my rescue.  he left his unit amid call bells buzzing and cvp lines pulling and let me in. we don’t live just next door from work, it’s actually a thousand miles. it was sweet of my babe.

     my hands are still sore. ugly and sore. i’m late on that academic paper.  my life isn’t even organized for flying home next week.  i also have to go through portsmouth at white hart lane on sunday.  for the uninitiated, that’s tottenham hotpurs’ next premiership match. it would be nice to get a glimpse of sol campbel.  after that, the paved road to formality for a ring on the finger.  but right now, i have to get this academic thing out of the way.

 

17
Sep

adieu to my last german

       Michael_schumacher_150f                       one of the reasons michael schumacher is retiring from formula one is the lack of space. he gets a humongous trophy every fortnight. except last year 2005, when a force named fernando alonzo came into the picture and was the one getting the trophies. but more than a decade prior to that and again this year, it was schumacher. and where in the world does he store those heavy products of hard work ? there could a be an enclave somewhere in europe. and it’s size, is not a room of its own but a mansion in beverly hills.

       as the ultimate glory-hunter, the german is my escape from the dreary, poverty-driven life that i lead.  his earnings of $2 million per race isn’t bad.  he’s worth what, £300 million?  a wife, two kids.  an equally rich brother that says, "we’re not close growing up."  though ralf could always tap big bro as mechanic, like he did when he was cutting his teeth in kart racing. there’s their dad, their only surviving parent that had bumped into some bad investments with michael’s money.  schumi’s retirement was always in the offing but now that it’s here, it feels so unreal.

       schumacher is the all-controversial formula one driver, seven-times world champion. i couldn’t even recall all his scrapes, the latest being in monaco this season, when he devised a spin to block the track and hinder rival alonso’s odds for taking the pole position. there was the 1994 damon hill incident which forever sullied his name and a repeat in 1997 when he was trying to slam into david coulthard’s car in a bid to win the title didn’t make him appear that lovable either. Ferrrari

       but despite all the lingering questions from detractors such as damon hill (obviously) and keke rosberg, formula one will surely pine for schumacher’s competitive presence.  being german, his driven, single-minded, win-at-all cost attitude didn’t attract fans from the holier-than -thou assembly. "he’s such a blatant cheat like that "hand of god," icon, diego maradona."  relying on their brilliance alone, schumacher and maradona are already very good. but somehow, their dark sides appear and glide through their psyche. and the morality police are not happy, to say the least. 

         it has been so much fun watching schumacher the last ten years. he’s my roger federer.  which proves that all good things come to an end. there are still a few races left this season. it would be a delight to see ferrari’s number one navigate one last overtaking strategy. then to set sail to other oportunities, like pulling a magic johnson in business. and not a yevgeny kafelnikov in the poker circuit. although unlikely, it would be something if he could play poker on tv, just for a glimpse of a driving legend that is michael schumacher. Ferrari_1

(photos from askmen.com; wn.com; the age.com)

12
Sep

guide from reviews

Junebug_1 it’s such a thrill to read movie reviews. it forms a basis on watching a film especially if i’m letting my objective side rule my options. some reviews are predictable. we already know that romantic comedies and a sector of action genres would be mutilated.  while art films from acclaimed directors would be apotheosized.  and in these times of web blogs and such, anyone who is anyone can inscribe a movie review. and i think it’s as legitimate as a stephen holden rhetoric in new york times or a peter travers elucidation in the rolling stone. individuals have different tastes and choices.  some would be happy with any nic cage action picture –con air, the rock, face/off, gone in 60 seconds.  others would like to see the coppola kin in flicks such as adaptation, leaving las vegas. there’s a dichotomy and a split of preferences.

according to peque gallaga, “the likes of marilou diaz-abaya, jose javier reyes and don escudero would make good reviewers.”  but they’re directors, while we’re mere mortals. although any person in the street could be a script writer or a director if given the right milieu of an upbringing. some artistic people with the money and the right connection could be the next lav diaz or jeffrey jeturian. i’ve located some exceptional writing in my pursuit of sterling web blogs, from pen pushers i haven’t even heard of. there’s a core of impressive expertise out there, bursting to make their fortune. some gets my ire (as if i have the right!).  i’m always hoping to avoid them. like why review a film that stars sharon cuneta when you know you are not a fan and never will be?  although there a few commendable sites which are informative and entertaining.

although reviews form a certain pull to my thoughts. the stars are still the main enticement. or not. i like lauren graham. but i would only watch the pacifier, if i’m thrown in a roomful of strangers in yet another children’s party.  i can’t watch keira knightley, no pride and prejudice, regardless of rosamund pike or the other members of the ensemble. sarah jessica parker is not friendly to kim cattrall, so no failure to launch or the family stone. no brangelina ever, past, present or future, including girl interrupted despite winona ryder nor babel, a good film according to one review. the person who gave me a dubai disc is sweet. but i had to give that dvd away. and it’s not because i don’t like aga muhlach (photo from the junebug publicity stills).

10
Sep

MY PAIN


i can’t stand

i can’t walk

my knees and ankle

are in deep agony

how do I move?

i need help somehow


have i mentioned my shoulders?

how they render my arms spastic?

life is just inundated with a

myriad of anguish


but the worst are my hands,

carpals, metacarpals

wretched, mangled

in the throes of

plain and simple

suffering


but the world is mean and vicious

cloaked in esurience and avarice

the other person is always

scornful, mocking my pain

in vivid phrases


undaunted, i venture through

absorbing indignity, ridicule

there’s this desire

to amalgamate,

to find my real intimates

no judgments

merely kind souls, who with

my pain, they can soothe and

alleviate Reflection_galleryplayer

—september 10,2006 —