Tuesday, August 9


I'm not sure why there's an itch to start over in the form of this blog while I'm quite attached to the mothership (eight years' worth, in that one, and counting) Perhaps, to snatch a semblance of control when things, as they stand now, are direction-less. Also, was happy to find out that the URL is available (given the unremarkability of my name and person). So:
  1. Just submitted the nonfiction piece for workshop on Friday for Butch's class (he talks about our class in his column this week, and there are things he said that I could've used, but alas, they came a little too late). The whole thing, supposedly an essay, became a full-blown Kule article, with Bourdieu and symbolic violence and value system and power relations and all those things long buried in the attic and now gathering cobwebs.
  2. Will workshop three poems as part of sequence later for Neil's class. I have nothing more to say in this regard: all I know is, I don't understand poetry, I don't think in terms of images, and I am sure to receive a beating later.
  3. Because my three workshop subjects conspired against me (this month, in general, hasn't been kind), non-realist fiction piece might be up for workshop this Friday for Jing's class (if we finish quickly on first two, Bambi's and Dino's). My realist self is scared as shit, needless to say. Have absolutely no fantastic, spec fic bone in my body.
  4. First time to be workshoped in classroom format in a v. long time (absent the mini-workshops with the Silliman and Chingbee groups). Come to think of it: had only one workshop class during undergrad, creative nonfic under Chingbee five years ago. Was 20 then, and harbored delusions of grandeur.
  5. Always, idly, finding myself drifting back to the mountains of Valencia, in the thick of things, the familiar smiles and the ready ears, and poetry in the morning.
  6. My sense of zen is currently braving the harshest storm/s in years.
  7. Tomorrow, will meet with Alan after class to run a few rounds in school. Alaysa will join us after some tibak thing, then will troop to Buddy's for pancit and maybe yogurt. There are standing plans to visit Dambana ng Kagalakan in Morong. Last time I went there, was with Piya, and we celebrated surviving an awful September. August seems to be offering the same kind of difficulties, which may or may not have to do with some planets realigning or portals of hell opening.
  8. The last two films I saw (Vim Yapan's Gayuma and the movie adaptation of Murakami's Norwegian Wood) are, loosely, both about love and the things we do for it. As with all great art (in my own narrow view), their imports on life are clear. I know I am not (yet) capable of great love because I am not ready to surrender as much. It's a tragedy. I noticed, too.
I don't know how to differentiate this space from the one I've dearly loved and kept for a long time. But best be typing.