January 2012
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"It will come."
It will come. The ones who deserve the purest love are oftentimes the ones who wait the longest. You get to the soul of a thing by experiencing it until it whittles down to its most basic yet potent form, like rose oil. -Aleck Maramag-Arradaza, whom I look up to and look for when I need the right words.
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In the mornings (part 1)
I feel like returning the favor a little so I wrote about the shoot with Edric over here. Here are snippets for those who want it quick, quick, quick.
I like how Edric’s photos have that dreamy film quality in them. Here, I feel the gentleness of age, as if an entire story has been told before the camera’s click. I fiddled around with some of his lens filters, which not a lot of...
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[excerpt]
But of all the things I have to let go of, I must first let go of myself. There is a prayer in my body that sings of triumph; the strength of my limbs are ready to climb the troubled terrain of hearts, mine and yours. It is time, it’s about time, it will be time for death to die. My escape will be thunderous, hope will grow hands to clap for me, and I will run with wind rattling like chains not of...
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March is the month for alarmingly lovely live...
The boy and I just booked flights to SG to watch the Foo Fighters on March 2. And then I already have VIP tickets to the Death Cab For Cutie show here in Manila on March 5. I’m alright with missing Laneway and Bush and Toe. (But there’s Radiohead in July, hmm.) For now, these two bands are more than enough; my heart is a balloon flying up, up, up.
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A Marriage | R.S. Thomas
We met under a shower of bird-notes. Fifty years passed, love’s moment in a world in servitude to time. She was young; I kissed with my eyes closed and opened them on her wrinkles. ‘Come,’ said death, choosing her as his partner for the last dance. And she, who in life had done everything with a bird’s grace, opened her bill now for the shedding of one sigh no heavier than...
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Other Lives and Dimensions and Finally a Love Poem...
My left hand will live longer than my right. The rivers of my palms tell me so. Never argue with rivers. Never expect your lives to finish at the same time. I think praying, I think clapping is how hands mourn. I think staying up and waiting for paintings to sigh is science. In another dimension this is exactly what’s happening, it’s what they write grants about: the...
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