Sunday, April 29


Apologize for whirlwind of late. Things had, I think, calmed down after the initial crescendo. Maybe plateaued? Stabilized? Definitions of an evening out. Hope not entirely accurate. Stuff:
  • Was planning to make a trip to nearby Booksale this afternoon and, really, just told self would lie down for calming few minutes when next thing, was being called for dinner. Swear; this heat not doing anything for lethargic spirit/body.
  • But Coincidence is whimsical fellow; while dozing off - mouth open, no doubt, unglamorous - books from Book Depository arrived. In mint, though monstrously late, condition. One book - Lore Segal's Shakespeare's Kitchen - like Jennifer Egan's A Visit from the Goon Squad, a set of nterconnected stories (or 'an exquisite tapestry' if bookfront annotation were to be trusted). V. excited to see bigger, well, tapestry in which The Reverse Bug (in my opinion, one of the most brilliantly conceptualized stories ever) is situated. Hope rest not letdown.
  • Finally finalized (huh?) itinerary of getaway with Om. Will start with Manila to Ormoc - a monstrous 28-hour bus ride (passing lovely San Juanico bridge), then ferry to Cebu City, then bus to Toledo, then ferry to San Carlos, then boat to Sipaway (staying a night or two to say hello again to Om's old yaya), then bus to Bacolod (staying a night or two to, I don't really know; we're sick and tired of Bacolod to be honest), then bus to Dumaguete to see Christian during second weekend of workshop, then ferry to Cagayan de Oro then bus to Iligan, and he, to Dapitan (actually, Om's supposed to head to Davao for Ateneo workshop but that had since been cruelly relocated to far-flung Katipunan Avenue - a trike away from where he lives), then from Iligan, ferry back to Bacolod to meet Christian for flight back to Manila.
  • That was a mouthful. Hope patience - not to mention money - will not run out.
  • Do you gaze at your doorstep and picture me there?
  • Last few weeks had been spent doing rakets and the occasional jinuman. Slightly sad that summer is about halfway done and have not written a single story in preparation for supposed thesis sem/year.  Have been stuck in this one story, and life, absurdly, actually took self to same point, as if leaving breadcrumbs to follow, but now finding it impossible / unfair to cannibalize material and lay it on paper. Hate sounding like am trying to be writerly or artsy (and also hate quoting Annie Dillard) - but it's true: the surest thing to lose a memory is to write it. For when you do, it is no longer yours, despite your most ardent claims to the contrary. And so will take a deep breath and keep it in, and will look Elsewhere.

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