the rain reminds me

"SHIRIMIRI" fragmento

- Gabriel Celaya

Llueve y llueve
?Que delicia sentirse en lo fluyente,
ser un hombre corriente-

Llueve: Fiel definicion
de lo que empieza y no acaba,
divinamente sin yo.

Llueve y llueve, y llueve. Llueve,
llueve con constancia, amor
de lo que siempre vuelve!

Llueve y llueve. Nada pasa.
Es decir, pasa la nada.
Llueve tan, tan de verdad, que se descansa.

Llueve sin mas. Llueve tonto.
Mal tiempo!, dice la gente que vino a veranear.
Ay que buen tiempo sin tiempo!, digo yo.

Poema de Gabriel Celaya

Shirimiri

fragmento


Llueve y llueve.
¿Qué delicia sentirse en lo fluyente,
ser un hombre corriente-

Llueve: Fiel definición
de lo que empieza y no acaba,
divinamente sin yo.

Llueve y llueve, y llueve. Llueve,
llueve con constancia, ¿amor
de lo que siempre vuelve!

Llueve y llueve. Nada pasa.
Es decir, pasa la nada.
Llueve tan, tan de verdad, que se descansa.

Llueve sin más. Llueve tonto.
¡Mal tiempo!, dice la gente que vino a veranear.
¡Ay qué buen tiempo sin tiempo!, digo yo.
..... "

'in the company of greatness'

The 48th National Writers Workshop began today in Silliman University and once again I'm so privileged to be a sit-in-er, a jaw-dropped eavesdropper, with ears straining to hear every word the distinguished panelists say about the works of the fellows.

National artist for literature, Mom Edith Tiempo, so smart and collected at 90 years old, graced today's opening ceremonies, together with her workshop 'babies' Sir Sawi Aquino, Ma'am Myrna Pena-Reyes, Dr. Gemino Abad, J. Neil Garcia, Sarge Lacuesta and Ian Casocot, respected Filipino writers all.

In such august company, there's only one thing left for me to do: Stop talking and start listening very well!

Binisayang balak

ni RV Escatron


balaki ko, baki!

unya na ug sawum-sawum, tiglum-tiglum
sa lin-aw. layat dayun, marika! dali! sa akong pantaw

istoryahi ko sa imong mga damgu
isugid ang imong mga pamagdoy

kay sa sunod natung hibuylas ini'g balik
sa ting-ulan, patag na ang lin-aw, hagbay na nga
naani ang mga tang-kong, gilarut na ang katchubong

ug ako na say mag asoy sa mga napaksit
natu'ng pangandoy.

a thousand splendid tears

I had read several positive reviews of Khaled Hosseini’s 2007 novel A Thousand Splendid Suns, so when I bought a copy of the book, I was already expecting it to be as enjoyable as Hosseini’s first book, The Kite Runner. I did not expect, though, that while reading this second book, I would have to rush to the privacy of the bathroom several times to bawl there in secret lest the people in the house, who were coming in and out of my room, wondered why I was sobbing while reading.

That may sound a bit too dramatic, but, if you know me, I’m a sucker for drama. That’s why I loved the dramatic twists and turns in the lives of the protagonists and the antagonists and all the other minor characters in the story that was set in Afghanistan, particularly in Herwat and Kabul, places that I had only vaguely heard about. It was hard to imagine how the people lived in what, to me, was a strange and even barbaric culture.

Whereas The Kite Runner was about paternal love, male bonding, friendships and betrayals, A Thousand Splendid Suns was about the sacrificial nature of maternal love, female bonding and the reality of gender bias. This last one was particularly striking to me, because I come from a country where, in many areas, women are considered just as good as men, and gays just as good, if not better, than straights.

I am not going to write a summary of the book. There are plenty here, here and here. But of course, all the summaries and reviews, including this one, do not do justice to the book. It must be read in full to be appreciated.

Let me tell you instead about which parts of the book had me BOL (Bawling Out Loud).

First would be the innocence, the naiveté, of the female protagonists. Many times I wanted to tell the women/children in the story, “Noooo! Do Not Believe That!! Do Not Allow That!! Do Not Tolerate That!!” But always they were helpless against their brute oppressors.

Second would be the time when Laila, the heroine, was about to give birth but could not immediately get into a hospital simply because of her gender. As it was, her baby was breech so an emergency Caesarian section was indicated. Problem was, the impoverished hospital that took in female patients did not have any anesthetic.

As a physician in a third world country I have seen a few minor surgeries done without benefit of an anesthetic. It is incredible how the conditioned mind can tolerate pain. But a C section is not minor surgery, by any means. In some hinterland areas in the Philippines, it can be done under local anesthesia by expert hands. But a C section without any kind of anesthesia happens only in fiction, I so want to believe.

In the book, Laila’s friend, Mariam, held her hand during the entire operation. At the end of that horrid chapter, the narrator goes, “Mariam would always admire Laila for how much time passed before she screamed.”

In my work, I am ever watchful for the slightest sign of pain in the patient; be it a slight tilt of the head, a furrowing of the forehead, a flutter of the eyelids, a single finger lifted, a hint of a whimper, a rise in the heart rate and blood pressure. A scream is way off the scale. Oh, how I wanted to be there with Laila, with my little ampule of Bupivacaine.

So yes, I let myself be carried away by that book. Not too difficult, really, because third in my list of reasons for BOL is that, some parts of the story were my very own, too, written in words that I could, perhaps, never have the courage to say myself. Maybe not in a thousand years.

The art and poetry of Jordan Carnice

My friend and classmate in lit and writing classes, Fred Jordan Carnice, the only Creative Writing graduate this year, is holding "Lines Verses Lines", an exhibit of his poetry and paintings at the Sidlakang Negros Gallery starting March 15. This exhibit is sponsored by Sidlakang Negros, the Weekly Sillimanian and the SU Kadugong Bol-anon.





Way to go, Bullfrog!! I am so proud of you! Congratulations!!

endings.

Some stories have happy endings.

Some stories have immeasurably sorrowful ones.

oil on canvass, 2007, by Lili Bernard

The Erlking

O who rides by night thro' the woodland so wild?
It is the fond father embracing his child;
And close the boy nestles within his loved arm,
To hold himself fast, and to keep himself warm.

"O father, see yonder! see yonder!" he says;
"My boy, upon what dost thou fearfully gaze?"
"O, 'tis the Erl-King with his crown and his shroud."
"No, my son, it is but a dark wreath of the cloud."

"O come and go with me, thou loveliest child;
By many a gay sport shall thy time be beguiled;
My mother keeps for thee many a fair toy,
And many a fine flower shall she pluck for my boy."

"O father, my father, and did you not hear
The Erl-King whisper so low in my ear?"
"Be still, my heart's darling—my child, be at ease;
It was but the wild blast as it sung thro' the trees."

"O wilt thou go with me, thou loveliest boy?
My daughter shall tend thee with care and with joy;
She shall bear three so lightly thro' wet and thro' wild,
And press thee, and kiss thee, and sing to my child."

"O father, my father, and saw you not plain
The Erl-King's pale daughter glide past thro' the rain?"
"Oh, yes, my loved treasure, I knew it full soon;
It was the grey willow that danced to the moon."

"O come and go with me, no longer delay,
Or else, silly child, I will drag thee away."
"O father! O father! now, now, keep your hold,
The Erl-King has seized me—his grasp is so cold!"

Sore trembled the father; he spurr'd thro' the wild,
Clasping close to his bosom his shuddering child;
He reaches his dwelling in doubt and in dread,
But, clasp'd to his bosom, the infant was dead.

Translated by Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832) from Johann Goethe's Der Erlkönig.

a-half-and-one revolutions

A Semi-Revolution
Robert Frost (1875-1963)

I advocate a semi-revolution
The trouble with a total revolution
(Ask any reputable Rosicrucian)
Is that it brings the same class up on top.
Executives of skillful execution
Will therefore plan to go half-way and stop.
Yes, revolutions are the only salves.
But they're one thing that should be done by halves.


A Total Revolution (An answer for Robert Frost)
Oscar Williams (1900 - 1964)

I advocate a total revolution.
The trouble with a semi-revolution,
it's likely to be slow as evolution.
Who wants to spend the ages in collusion
with Compromise, Complacence and Confusion?
As for the same class coming up on top
that's wholecloth from the propaganda shop;
the old saw says there's loads of room on top.
That's where the poor should really plan to stop.
And speaking of those people called the "haves."
Who own the whole cow and must have the calves
(and plant the wounds so they can sell the salves),
they won't be stopped by doing things by halves.
I say that for a permanent solution
there's nothing like a total revolution!

P.S. And may I add by way of a conclusion
I wouldn't dream to ask a Rosicrucian.

CSI: Ang Teoriya ng Literatura (The Literary Theory)

Bloodshot eyes barely visible through puffy eyelids. Tear stains on cheeks. Wet manuscript on desk.

Theory: Someone's been crying.

Cuticles have been chewed off. Fingers nibbled down to stumps.

Theory: Someone's nail biting has taken a turn for the worse.

Clumps of hair on the dresser. Telltale strands of hair under the fingernails.

Theory: Someone's been tearing out one's own hair.

Shards of glass from the jalousie slats scattered on the floor.

Theory: Ultra high frequency sound waves, probably from someone screaming in the key of C, broke the glass window.

Crumpled balls of paper litter the floor. Laptop dangling by its electric cord on the side of the table. Printer, teetering on the window sill, about to plunge to the ground below.

Theory: Someone's been trying to write a coherent essay on deconstruction. And failed.

without due respect to deconstruction

I now belong to the elite few who can actually use deconstruction in a sentence, having been formally introduced to the word, in our Literary Theory class. This is not to say, of course, that I understand it. Therefore, the sentence is going to be something profound and meta-transcendent like "I hate deconstruction." Really, I've not encountered something so silly in a long time now.

Speaking of silly, I'm going to veer away from highfalutin literary terms and post something inane here, emailed to me by a friend who wanted to cheer me up after our fence fell.


* * * * * * * *

Jowks

* * * * * * * *

Q. What's the difference between corruption in the US and corruption in the Philippines?

A. In the U.S. they go to jail. In the Philippines , they go to the U.S.

* * * * * * * *

Reporter: Sir, kung wala po kayong evidence, witness or suspect ano na po ang next step ninyo?

Police: DNA na...

Reporter: Sir, ano po yung DNA?

Police: "Di Namin Alam."

* * * * * * * *

Pare 1: Pare, alam mo ba tawag sa paniki na mababa ang lipad?

Pare 2: Hindi, eh. Ano ba, pare?

Pare 1: Lowbat, pare! Lowbat!

* * * * * * * *

Teacher: Anong similarity nina Jose Rizal, Andres Bonifacio, Ninoy Aquino at Apolinario Mabini?

Student: Ma'am, pagkaka-alam ko po, silang lahat ay pinanganak ng holiday.

* * * * * * * *

Titser: Ano ang hugis ng mundo?

Juan: Kuwadrado po, maam!

Titser: Hindi! Ang mundo ay bilog.

Juan: Pero ma'am, sabi ng lolo ko, narating na niya ang apat na sulok ng mundo. May sulok po ba ang bilog?

* * * * * * *

Eliseo: Sobra na talaga ang katangahan ng kumare mo. Ang akala niya, ang LAWSUIT ay uniporme ng pulis!

Joshua: Sus! Tanga nga! Eh, di ba, uniporme ng abugado yun?

* * * * * * *

Erap to Cardinal Rosales: Cards, hangga ngayon galit pa ang simbahan sa akin. That is unfair!

Cardinal Rosales: Bakit mo naman nasabi yan, Erap?

Erap: Tignan 'nyo, Cards, mayroong sabado de GLORIA, mayroong Sagrado de CORAZON at mayroon ding Linggo de RAMOS, Bakit ako wala? Naging presidente din naman ako, ah.

Cardinal Rosales: O sige na nga, Erap. Para wala ka nang reklamo mula ngayon sa iyo na iyang ASS Wednesday!

* * * * * * * *

the kite runner

An awesome read. Go get a copy now. And while doing that, prepare to have your heart wrenched.

dedicated to all aspiring poets

Get Fuzzy

by Darby Conley

:=)

goodbye, 2008

The Passing of the Year

by Robert W. Service (1874 - 1958)

My glass is filled, my pipe is lit,
My den is all a cosy glow;
And snug before the fire I sit,
And wait to feel the old year go.
I dedicate to solemn thought
Amid my too-unthinking days,
This sober moment, sadly fraught
With much of blame, with little praise.

Old Year! upon the Stage of Time
You stand to bow your last adieu;
A moment, and the prompter's chime
Will ring the curtain down on you.
Your mien is sad, your step is slow;
You falter as a Sage in pain;
Yet turn, Old Year, before you go,
And face your audience again.

That sphinx-like face, remote, austere,
Let us all read, whate'er the cost:
O Maiden! why that bitter tear?
Is it for dear one you have lost?
Is it for fond illusion gone?
For trusted lover proved untrue?
O sweet girl-face, so sad, so wan
What hath the Old Year meant to you?

And you, O neighbour on my right
So sleek, so prosperously clad!
What see you in that aged wight
That makes your smile so gay and glad?
What opportunity unmissed?
What golden gain, what pride of place?
What splendid hope? O Optimist!
What read you in that withered face?

And You, deep shrinking in the gloom,
What find you in that filmy gaze?
What menace of a tragic doom?
What dark, condemning yesterdays?
What urge to crime, what evil done?
What cold, confronting shape of fear?
O haggard, haunted, hidden One
What see you in the dying year?

And so from face to face I flit,
The countless eyes that stare and stare;
Some are with approbation lit,
And some are shadowed with despair.
Some show a smile and some a frown;
Some joy and hope, some pain and woe:
Enough! Oh, ring the curtain down!
Old weary year! it's time to go.

My pipe is out, my glass is dry;
My fire is almost ashes too;
But once again, before you go,
And I prepare to meet the New:
Old Year! a parting word that's true,
For we've been comrades, you and I --
I thank God for each day of you;
There! bless you now! Old Year, good-bye!

qarol quiz with anzwerz

Yesterday's quiz reposted, this time time with answers somewhere around...

First Set:

1. Listen to the celestial messengers produce harmonious sounds

2. Embellish the interior passageways

3. Twelve o'clock on a clement night witnessed its arrival

4. The Christmas preceeding all others

5. Small municipality in Judea south of Jerusalem

6. Omnipotent supreme being who elicits respite in distinguished males

7. Nocturnal time span of ubroken quietness

8. Obese personification fabricated of compressed mounds of minute crystals

9. Tintinnabulation of vacillating pendulums in inverted, metallic, resonant cups

10. In awe of the eventide characterized by religiosity


Second Set:


1. The only thing that I desire at this most jubilant time of year is a couple of forward facing incisors

2. An overweight white bearded red clad male persona is scheduled to arrive in this locality

3. My visual organs beheld the woman, in whose womb I thrived before my natal day, exchanging oral exercises with an overweight white bearded red clad male persona

4. This is the penultimate phenomenal period in the chronology of a dozen lunar cycles

5. The given name of a scarlet snouted four-footed mammal with branching antlers

6. The Tintinnabulation of a hollow cast metal instrument to the tune of a musical genre popularized in the 1950's

7. Liliputian lad banging on the bongos

8. The presence of all colors in a special year-end holiday

9. Seasonal snow in a magical place

10. A royal trio from the east, that’s us

And here's a cute addition:

Depart! And declare the good news from atop an elevated body of land with an altitude of greater than 2000 feet, that Jesus Christ is born!

Malipayong Pasko sa inyong tanan.