Off the bat let me tell you it’s been a harrowing time, not having a job (and I miss miss miss the old gig, all of it) and not getting on with The Next Step. I’m trying. If only I could afford to give in to this notion of the boho bum vibe. And I haven’t been anywhere, {except continue being Heidi im Frankfurt (but no Clara, o wait, my Clara’s done gone and buried and where I am now was Dörfli ah there goes the analogy ayoko na nga magkwento)}, which makes it so much worse (first summer in eight, nay, ten years, except if I count the Bus Trip to Clocktowertown). But here we go with this notion that I have something worthwhile/ edifying/ fresh and interesting! to share about my life of the past four months.
in search of poetics
Just finished Ann Lauterbach’s The Night Sky. All Hail. Thank you N. Hrr Hrr. I’m reading it as a vindication/affirmation of what I was trying to do with the poems I wrote/ drafted so far this year. I read it very slowly, half a chapter a night, which is a first. I might be treating it too preciously. I need to go back. I absorb very slowly, which makes it a miracle that I dare write stuff at all.
I wasn’t reading her when I wrote that thing to which I haven’t gone back, not daring to feel hopelessness about ever making it float, given ever-widening webs of factoids hardly pieced together and rapidly approaching the inevitable zone / state also known as news spin oblivion and we have so much to do now, do we. Content of all sorts pushing their way in, insisting they are essential, they hold the linchpins to the piece. Hang out and dry in what sort of light. Where and how to let them in?
The central pieces do feel familiar. I can’t remember when.
What is your poetics? The fatal question posed to me last summer. The things I wrote and endeavored to write since, do they constitute an answer? Can I have more than one? Like poetics was a camera’s filter lens. Install, choose the one that fits the subject best. Dalawang ilog. Nagpatianod. Gumulong-gulong sa batuhang sapa. Walang pasa, walang sugat, bagay na ibabatay sa nasipat. Alin, alin, alin ang yaong naiba?
cave life
Bad cellphone signal hereabouts. Sorry if your messages don’t get through. God knows how I want to be an upper floor dweller again. We shall see, in 3 years :S
encountered // looped on YT
lcd soundsystem
new young pony club (glammer than mia. the prono ‘tache seals it for me)
the ting-tings
liza minelli (took me the first half of 2010 to appreciate her outside AD. Again I miss my third grade English and homeroom teacher, who danced to “Cabaret”during our Christmas party. I haven’t seen so much leg ever since)
(i’ve been dancey, i guess)
(i’ve been trying to blot out the horror in satc2)
placebo, fatboy slim, sounds from that time
nina simone’s set at the harlem woodstock (spirit of ’69, hear)
bjork’s jazzy phase (misty? the wonders never cease)
boaz mauda @ eurovision 2008
paul oskar @ eurovision 1997 (the video’s divine)
my favorite eurovision countries: israel and iceland
matt monroe’s walk away? that was udo jürgen’s warum nur, warum eurovision 1964
francoise hardy’s message personnel
(sometimes i like to get weepy just for the kicks)
camille velasco’s until you come back to me (also, basia’s and aretha’s)
elis regina’s set in ensaio (brasil!)
Sayang na Sayang by Manilyn Reynes – when the world was young and open fields long have I gazed on an open field times were bad so they say like I was there nope I too young to know it was a pretty good time to miss they call her Star of the New Decade Star of the New Decade Star of the New Decade makes me want to go back to a time Jollibee celebrates 100 stores in Metro Manila and I ache to take home that poster with the little jollibees in it how wonderful so many i like maps most of all and counting the trips flanked with hills that’s what the side of the road looked like lots of times this is the color green and a fastfood restaurant’s playland set on a hill that was strange haven’t seen it since oooh now I remember why mindless fascination with things on the road why I lived for road trips and sunsets on the road and the eating when I grow up I want (to be) a trucker like what do roadies do I wonder what it feels like when they call you Star of the New Decade and I feel so where did all that time go this makes me laugh juxtaposition of generous ample clad from head to toe in yardage and mind synthetics were very in and I can feel it! so special that time only the best for showbiz shoulders and showbiz busts and the caps and the shimmers and leggings and this decade’s office lingo tenement districts shiny unit on the cusp of condo towers mckinley william makati lofts east ave meets shaw meets soho boni bonifacio high street high rise heritage urdaneta victorina pershing all dead all-in extrusive medium low cost housing garden city rock wood well pacific heights flood free mega residence plaza south west north east tropical delight fashion so eton so tony so dormy mabuhay walkby walkthru displays and people it’s still the 80’s here |in this space| I want to be eleven right this moment I want to crawl back to that grassy field right now | balik kampung lah | umarika |new york, too easy | lucky to not be right by the tracks | no trucks pass by night | fly out soon | I can’t go on
There’s the quarter life for you. Getting in touch in the inner toddler.
Seriously, I want to go back to that song’s sound, with the chimes and feel-good synth. It feels so modern.
This where I grin silly.
Dayang-dayang, the popular version and a sample of the real thing. I think the song gets a shout-out in a foreword or endnote in Wendell Capili’s A Madness Of Birds. The song also makes me think of summer of ‘97, Alabang Public Market. Glad to know it’s not Indonesian or Sabahan. Someone might go say it’s not mine. Fuck you. I’ll say it’s ours.
My sincerest belief is that inculcating an inclusive mindset is the only way to go. Breathe it in. It might end up ventilating the body politics’ lungs (Healthy!).
Words Get In The Way by Gloria Estefan, probably the tightest pop song structure ever.
(just felt like saying it)
Olivia Newton-John and Jane Lynch’s song number on Glee (I shall watch the show only when the hoopla’s died down, that’s the KJ way) makes me feel—the word is hot, yes?—the lesbo hotness.
