Then and now

a year (and bit more) ago I was on fire. I was literally burning everywhere and cracking and flaming and I couldn't keep from being some kind of torch. I felt all together, my guts stayed close and I used it often. I was a wolf, enjoyed my time alone and with others, rough and catching for signs, smells, links that would end up woven into some kind of song, image, dance, poetry - there was no lack of it, I felt blessed.

these days I can't even pick up the guitar and play something that makes my heart race. or sing without thinking. my body seems strange and sometimes distant, I bend and it hurts, I extend an arm and feel the weight of gravity. I write something and then abandon it without feeling. I'm not burning as I was. maybe I'm hibernating? maybe I've become an oven and at the moment I'm busy baking something.. There's a growing bump in my belly and its not because of Italian "mangia". Whatever's inside it is burning, kicking, growing like something I cannot fully imagine. Independent yet always listening, sometimes it feels like we're both looking at each other wondering about the other. Who are you and what brought us together?

Rethink Moneh

Bloody Moneh.

Its over-rated, dirty, criminal, secret love affair, eeeevviiilll... or so they say.

Freelancers of the artist kind understand that under-paid and bleeding is how it ought to be, like a sexy non-commital drifter. No battle scars meant ZOMBIE SLAVE TO THE MAN.

The Glass Eye Maker

A nice break from work is looking into other people's work. How nutty to imagine doing one single thing, master it and work it for 30 years. Its so atopic at this age that anyone left doing this kind of monk-like vocation stand like true gems against the mass of changelings. I'm not saying they should be worshipped, just admired even from afar. At least, allow their life testament to disturb you enough to consider other possibilities. Note to self.

Now lets get back to The Blind Assassin.

Peter o'Toole is so cool. Omar Sharif is the chief.

I'm not a clean freak. No, I guess I thrive in an environment thats not exactly in order, may seem chaotic for most people but it works for me. Coming into terms with the less attractive aspects of myself isn't my cup of tea, but as the days turned months just slowly moved past me - a growing lump on my throat from all the challenges/projects I took on last year that now demand completion, I am really and certainly not in order.

Chai Cookies and small steps

I started my Etsy shop sometime in November last year 2010 (like over a month ago?) and I remember how excited I was in prepping everything from product shoot to description, all the way to packaging, banners and the minute details like labels, ribbons and what not.

When I get my mind focused on something, I tend to go overboard and give a 101%, sometimes more. Obsessing over colors and how the paper bag folds, making sure its aligned and... basically just increasing its scientific and mathematical accuracy to as near as perfection.

Sea Broth and Flame

Outside, the sun is rising somewhere behind the grey. Its all moist and smoke for the first few minutes, then a bit later some figment of white/yellow rises above the sky. In a matter of seconds, the outline of the surrounding hills become visible. First the Basilica, then the trees forming a rim around -what appears to be- a giant bowl of fog. Or witch's broth.

Songs to ride the winter cold and Dumaguete

I don't know how or why but I started playing classic Christmas songs, say like "Chestnuts roasting in the open fire...", or "Have yourself a merry little christmas.." and I couldn't help but feel emotional - eyes brimming with tears and all. I mean, I never experienced a real white christmas until now. I'm from the south of the Philippines, which is equivalent to living in Timbuktu for most people, including those from the NORTH of the Philippines. And honestly, I cannot find a part of me that doesn't feel happy when I think about Christmas, especially those times, as a child, I celebrated together with family and relatives in Dumaguete City, my personal Prague.

Food Cravings

In the last week I have seriously grown more lustful towards good food and I mean - yummy gastronomical bliss food. Unfortunately my desires have shifted from Italian to Filipino flavors. Maybe I'm being nostalgic - no, I am seriously nostalgic. Just the thought of breakfast at home, hearing the chickens cockadoodledoo, the smell of burning wood, warm beams of sunshine straight from the sky to the window to the table, glowing, perfect. home.

I first arrived in Italy sometime in February early this year. We went to visit a friend's family house and there I was introduced to authentic Italian cuisine - by authentic Italians, no less! Lucky enough, the first pasta dish was Pasta al Pesto (my favorite), a rich and creamy mix of freshly ground basil leaves and pine nuts with grated parmegiano reggiano. Its exactly like what it should be but with a twist - she mixed in some potato slices and string beans with the pasta, boiling them together and on a plate they create a creamier consistency, marrying the flavors of fresh pesto. Magical.

I spent a month in Italy before going back to Asia for a 3-month grant in Singapore. There I would experience yet another kind of gastronomical bliss that would take me all over Asia in one place. I don't know if writing about this is good for my sanity but I do know that it helps keep my love alive. My love for home, for its people, for the diversity of flavors available around the world. :) oooooh flaaavoooorsss

10 cents for Love

So, while spending some weeks packing and moving and somehow putting up a shop. I was secretly wishing that by some divine force everything would suddenly fall into place just because I was loving what I did and because I was chill and spontaneous and, you know, cool (even more so after my Facebook deactivation, but not anymore after my recent re-activation. ah well.) Things didn't really turn out so smooth after all and, as all transitions, lotsa adjustments and bumps along the way. I had to reassess my judgment and FB snobbery.

Maybe the winter doesn't sit so well with me. Maybe I'm a tropical person freezing somewhere in the northern hemisphere feeling just a tad bit silly I'm not wearing something appropriate (bringing cotton sweaters when wool would've done a better job). Maybe I'm pregnant. oh man.

This handmade pendant thingymajee is an assemblage of trinkets from home, singapore, and italy. three of my last stops. who knows what'll be of it, maybe just another memory.