I do not like the word 'melancholy.' It smacks too much of melons...and tv dogs.

From An Older Notebook: A Love Poem

My wife is the Nile, She is God to my Nimrod.
Receptacle of the sun.
The moon is her chair, gathered with stars.
Gemini in the House of Eden.
A gesture from her raises the tides
And barrens the Wadi far away.

She is Aldebaran to me, showering the crop.
More than the seven,
So much more than the twins.
Hush--my heresy angers Gabriel at the door.
Ab Incunabulis.
À la belle étoile.
...
The Witching Hour, 02JUNE2000
From infancy
Under the beautiful star

Notes From An Older Notebook: Overheard

"It would be so simple," he said, "if we could approach people we cared for without any past so we could see them without coloration." She looked at him, startled by his sincerity.

"But we can't," he continued. "Human memory is long, after all, it's what brings us together. It's what causes that peculiar tingling, sometimes when we first meet, like a faint but unmistakable brush of recognition--of what? A kindred spirit, perhaps. An aura of presentiment. It has many names. It exists, invisible but unquestioned for all that."

He paused. "Did you feel it when we first met? A spark from a flame?

"I'm afraid to trust you," She said.

Overheard in my head, Summer, 1999

Pavlov my ass.

A Peachwood Comb

A Peachwood Comb

It was not so long ago when we each got a Peachwood comb. We pooled our money you see, it was halfway between an impulse purchase and a decision born out of desperation. The last few paper bills of the year.

The first comb was perfect for a lady's slim hand, it had a good knob of a handle and finely crafted teeth. Come to think of it now, it was a manly comb in its purposefulness. The other was a little more insouciant, it had no handle but sported a red string adorned with little chili peppers and beads. No two Peachwood combs could ever be more unalike. The Chinese artisan scribed our names on the spines and set the names in with red dye. Her comb was important, mine was just a throw-in as it was the last day of the sale. That was the clincher, medicinal combs to cure hair fall, buy one and get a smaller comb for free. Her comb was bought with the intent towards healing.

Her hair has always been important to me, you see. If physically we are born with ailments that we must live with to remind us of our humanity then this was hers. If mine was a tendency towards Asthma of the lungs and skin, hers was a tendency to hair fall most probably born out of having a stubborn hard head. Women.

Peach wood is used to put down evil things and to protect the health and safety of families in ancient times.

Entirely handmade wooden comb with smooth and even curved teeth, perfect for daily use.

To be continued...

What does it mean when you say, "I'm not getting any younger?"

If we are not getting younger, should we not be getting wiser with all the experience we garner on a daily basis? And if so, why is it then that most of us, still do not gain the wisdom to cherish what truly matters?

The world revolves, we have to work to eat and feed and clothe and house our family, yes.

Should we not do the same for our hearts and souls?

LOL'ing

What do you do when someone you love uses the chat term, "lol?"

I've decided my standard reply will be: OMGWTFBBQ. A term specifically designed to express disbelief but at the same time ridicule the use of internet chat acronyms.

In 1996 when IRC was the front runner and YM had just been birthed,I had a deeply ingrained intuitive belief that the chat acronym "lol" was an abbreviation for the Filipino cuss word "Ulol." Which when thrown at someone meant they were either idiotic or crazy. There are still vestiges of that belief. Up to now I think that when "lol" is used as a reply, that I am the brunt of some kind of inside joke. What more if the "lols" are from someone you love? How the hell do you expect to "Laugh Out Loud?" ROFLs and LMAOs be damned.

Say what you mean from now on. OMGWTFBBQ.

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=OMGWTFBBQ

Notes From An Older Notebook

Alliterative Corporate Climbing's Seven C's
1. Be Confident: Posture, think 'Madonna.' Decisions, firm.
2. Be Clever: There is no spoon.
3. Be Competent: Quickly gain and enhance proficiencies.
4. Be Complimentary: Feed their egos.
5. Be Carnal: Do not discount the sensual, at heart the climb is between cavemen and women.
6. Be Crazy: by being comfortable with your casual, corny self.
7. Be Contradictory: Keep them guessing.




A One Letter Alphabet
These are personal lessons learned during a strange corporate climb from entry level to executive level over five even stranger years. Take what you will, discard what is unneeded, but remember everything. C is for cookie, and it should be good enough for you too.

Notes From An Older Notebook

What is love--what is the love between a man and a woman?
Precious and true--to grow from scratch.
Promises
Meeting
Testing
Seeing time for what it really is.
Is it what I see in movies?
In books
In the walking

In between tears I sense it.
Where is peace then?
It seems love is a disappearing act
Of visiting hearts
Of unrelated relationships

Toward the lighting of candles and tying of knots,
Or toward the quiet sleep and clasping of hands?

Thank you
Tonight
Tomorrow
'Til time slows down.

I think
The music will never have to stop.

24 January 2004

I ask you to look into a mirror.
You ask why and comb your hair.

I ask you to stop and breathe.
You smirk and run away.

I ask you to stop living a lie.
You continue with your slow death.

Blaming W.B. Yeats

IBH English taught me to love Yeats' poetry. It taught me many things truth be known. Today I am tortured by having learned of Yeats; having learned and accepted his theory of cycles.

Today a dreaded cycle has seem to have insidiously returned. For again, I am waiting in silence. This silence is not deafening though, this time around, it is accompanied by the dripping of blood.

Yet again, a slouching beast returns to be birthed.

Renewal: Choosing Not To Be Affected

My cousin messaged me the other day in reply to an admission of weakness, "you can choose not to be affected."

How apt; can we truly decide what we feel or what we are affected by? Is it not the very acceptance of our emotions that provide testament to who we are as people? Driven to act and react, to react and act? Then again, as Shakespeare's plays show, these very emotions are exactly what give rise to plot, to tragedy and to drama. They power his simulacra of life.

Who do we choose to be in this life? Prospero? Ariel? Or Caliban? A man come into his power, a powerful spirit entrapped yet obedient, or a monster capable of beautiful speech? This Tempest called life.

"The Tempest" shows us the unforgiving power that choice gives and how lack of it imprisons even the most powerful. The first, being Prospero and the becoming of his life. The second being Ariel and a quest for freedom. Can even the very worst of us find redemption at the penultimate hour like Caliban? I wonder. Did Caliban even have a choice or was he but a creature of his own emotions? His own desires? To which persona do we swing towards? I would rule out Ariel I think. Emotional impotence is not something many of us have the luxury of. A fool of a monster or a fool of a man? What a choice.

In truth it seems that no one is innocent. There are no Ferdinands or Mirandas in this world. You may think you are her prince but then the curtains unfold on now and show you a different result. There are no supporting actors' masks we can slip into. We must act in the main or we are of the walking dead.

Strangely enough, we can muse all we want but not even so great a play can hold a mirror up to our own lives. In our own realities our emotions shake the very universe. The very acts and scenes that comprise our lives are inexorably powered by action and reaction brought out by emotion.

What if there is no Prospero, no Ariel, or even no Caliban? No expectant shoes to fill? What if there is no play to begin with? No unknown audience to view? Perhaps we can choose not to put one on in the first place, but then, in that case that would just be waiting for our lives to begin.

I have so many questions at this point and I veil my unease by pointing out a play whose very power lies in its absurdity of emotion. I know I have been both Prospero and Caliban but more so,

I am Tempest.

A Nagging Suspicion, Grasping Faith

Monday, December 29, 2008 at 10:50am


A Statement: We do not choose to be born into our family and yet we love them completely.

We unfailingly love our parents no matter what their failings or excesses are. They may hurt us to the brink of extinction and we may choose not to speak to them; yet when asked, we would move heaven and hell to go to them.

We automatically love our siblings no matter how far they end up living or how estranged we are from them as we grow up. Without a doubt we would entrust the very lives of our own children into their care.

A Nagging Suspicion: I suspect a similar condition occurs when we meet the person we are meant to spend the rest of our lives with.

We will unfailingly love this person--no matter what their faults or sins are. This person will swing us to both ends of the spectrum by showing us the heights and depths of love and hate. We may be separated from them by years, by circumstance, by physical space, or even by choice--yet fate will always have them come back or have us go back to them.

Fate will set the stage for us to be tested; we will be scrutinized by blinding stage lights and be laid bare for all to see. Fate will make sure that this person will be in the current act or waiting in the wings or maybe even be in the audience. Will we recognize them in time?

Grasping Faith: I share this suspicion with you that you may be comforted. Our parents do their best to protect us from ourselves growing up and they reason that they do not want us to make the same mistakes. Our siblings advise us to the contrary because they want to protect our hearts. Our family only but wants us to stand on their shoulders so we can see farther and clearer towards this person we are meant to be. This person we are meant to be family with.

I urge you to hold on as I have. It is not the perfection of the performance that is important. We will miss our cues, trip on stage, and even forget our lines. What is important is that while we are on stage we sing and dance our hearts out. She will be there.

29 December 2008

Unfettering: Shaking The Earth

Unfettering: Shaking The Earth

Monday, December 29, 2008 at 2:43am

When we truly let go of that which holds us back,
Then we can start to shake the earth.
For many, that which hinders us,
Is but a decision.

After Silence

I was so proud of you before,
You had learned how to say sorry.
In front of many, you had confronted your fears.
You had overcome your self.

Then things went awry.
Things always come around full circle.

What matters is what we do with with it--when it does come around.
Whether we make the same mistakes,
Or whether we take courage and reach out in humility, or even more simply
Out of acceptance.

The kind of acceptance that doesn't judge or assume,
The kind that accepts for good or bad.

That kind of courage that we see in children.
When they are hurt they cry out.
When they are happy they share their joy.

That kind of humility we find in our elders.
When in doubt they ask.
Or, they hold their silence until ready.

What matters is we live without carrying the weight
Of the mistakes and failures we had to make
To grow into that acceptance, that strength to say sorry.
That letting go of the self.

I was so proud of you before.
And I say to you that things will continue to come around full circle.
What matters, is whose hands, you hold when it does.

06 September 2008