City of Immortals
June 14-20 Edition
April 7, 2014
Monday, 4:50 p.m.
Text to my childhood friend GD
Ay naku, bro, ang buhay ko ngayon ay puno ng irony. Kailangan magtrabaho para magawa ang mga dapat gawin. Pero di magawa kasi may trabaho. Pwede naman pagkatapos, pero pagod na at kailangan maglaan ng oras para magpahinga. Eh, mukhang di na ako sanay sa buhay na rumarampa kasabay ng mga bampira at mga pokpok. Para bang hinahanap ng katawan ko ang tulog sa gabi. Kaya ngayon, di ako makatulog. Dun na ako aantokin sa trabaho mamaya.
April 21, 2014
The school corridor is like in the film Sixth Sense where Bruce and the boy were saying goodbye.
I didn't see dead people, at least not on that scene.
I was walking alone. Along came a girl I'll call Lucy, a coworker in my waking life. She came up from behind and walked rapidly ahead, obviously in a hurry.
"Go," I told her, urging her. I was being sarcastic, thinking about certain people who are always in a hurry just to meet their perennially recycling daily errands, not having time for things that could mean a lot, like quality time with true friends.
Lucy ran up the stairs. I went up leisurely, not following her nor interested where she's going. I went out. I didn't look at the building but I knew it was over a century old, like the 17th century University of Santo Tomas in Manila. The school grounds were empty. It looked like the Sunken Garden at the University of the Philippines, Diliman in Quezon City. On my left, around the corner corner of the building and out of my sight, I saw Lucy with some people I didn't care to meet. So I went to the right, strolling along the empty park-like campus grounds.
It was night in another scene, I was on the countryside. I was walking along an unpaved trail like in the Filipino modern horror classic The Road. I came upon a police mobile on my left. There are people but they were shrouded in darkness. The pulsing lights were illuminating the place like a scene of a crime. I looked in front of me. A large part of the road was submerged in mud. I casually glided over it, half floating.
In another scene, I was on top of a tall building. It was also night. I knew that behind me is a large sign of the construction company doing the edifice. I looked down. I was thinking that the building below on my right is where I currently work in my waking life. But it wasn't. It was on a pier. I can see the harbor behind it, wondering how deep those dark and placid waters must be. The sea was still, as if devoid of life. Her secrets will never be known.
April 26, 2014
I was in New Orleans, a place I loved and knew so well, and of course it was night.
I was riding through Metairie at the back of a yellow cab, looking out as we passed one of the cemeteries which had stood for centuries.
At the same time, I was on Bourbon Street at the French Quarter, in a laundry shop with coin-operated washing machines. The floor had black and white tiles, like a chess board with diamonds instead of squares. Outside the glass window are the usual sight of people in costumes for the Holloween. I knew that some of them are vampires.
The driver and I were talking about how the place had remained unchanged for decades. I felt glad about it. "This is the city of immortals," I told him.
I had teleported to Antipolo. I would be there for a day, staying at the house where I spent part of my childhood. I was walking down the sloping Milagros Subdivision. I saw somebody from my youth walking up towards me, talking with a tall young man that I knew to be her son. I don't want them to see me so I made myself invisible. I camouflaged my aura as they passed without noticing me. I smiled wryly. I find it ironic that, since I had built a shield, I wasn't able to read their minds.
Then I was already in downtown Antipolo, walking through the quiet residential areas near the famous church. I felt afraid that it would soon be conquered by squatters like Manila and Cebu. So I was there, deciding what I would have for dinner. I took a tricycle going home because I didn't want to be exposed to the public. I rode at the back of the driver. Then I told him to stop. I've forgotten that I had to get some food at the market first, also remembering that I need to buy earphones. The tricycle stopped. I was alone in the sidecar. "I knew you won't stay long," said a strange woman sitting at the back of the driver. She wasn't there before.
April 28, 2014
I've decided to release a second edition of my first anthology of published magazine features.
I will add more articles, including the ones that came out recently, and revise the others.
My books will be solid and substantial like the works of Ayn Rand, Norman Mailer and David Foster Wallace. I was in the bookstore earlier, trying to imbibe the energy of books to give strength to mine, including my planned anthology of fiction and poetry.
I then had an idea for a book of essays. My inspiration and model is Paulo Coehlo's Like A Flowing River. I have my journal entries and vignettes, some in my blog. Some of my writings, like that of Coehlo, is a reflection of my quest for spiritual knowledge. I wrote "Paulo Coehlo's Journeys To Enlightenment," published in a magazine, which I'll include, as a way of giving thanks. The attitude of gratitude is one of the guiding lights as I swim in the glistening but sometimes dark and turbulent waters of life.
I know I hold my future in my hands. I feel a sense of empowerment from knowing I have within what it takes to make the rest of my life the way I want it to be. I've always been a positive person, the negative elements I'm currently dealing with notwithstanding. I'm not superstitious and I don't jump at perceived omens. But I try to listen to what the universe is telling me. I'm hearing Mmm-Bop from one of the restaurants of the mall. I dig the light and bouncy energy. That, I believe, is a good sign.
"You have so many relationships in this life,
only one or two will last,
you go through all the pain and strife
then you turn your back and they're gone so fast..."