April 9, 2011
Backpacking with a Book

Weekly Photo Challenge: Old

One of the characters I met in Barili, Cebu. He looked and acted taciturn; yet according to his wife, he had several women. Travel allows us to meet interesting people like him. Part of Weekly Photo Challenge
April 10, 2011
Backpacking with a Book

April, How Did I Start You?

Ah, I started you by joining the mad creatures camouflaged as online teachers in Portofino. Quite a compact beach, April. I used to love crowds. These past few months, however the city became suffocating. Perhaps it is P’s calming effect on me. Or perhaps I am resigning to age. My poems find solace in the mundane, the silent, the silenced. I become calm, stable, happier. Lately, I’ve been cocooned by work, work, and work, interjected with excursions every now and then. Work becomes a valid excuse not to meet certain faces. Mine is part-time, April, but I can flex the […]
April 14, 2011
Backpacking with a Book

A Plate Story: His, Hers @ Parklane Cebu

A conversation between imaginary parents about their imaginary kids. “What if she’d get hurt” “Let her appreciate the pain” “I mean, physical” “Teach her self-defense. Or let’s have a boy first. He will be the guard. And we won’t be overprotective parents, will we?” “Nah, but I’ll worry a lot.” “Ah, what are we doing.” “No future references” “We can’t help it.” “Yeah” “We never know what the future has in store for us. Perhaps there is no us there.” “But at least we create our future here, now. Whatever happens, we won’t blame ourselves for not having a future […]
April 25, 2011
Backpacking with a Book

Concluding Holy Week

Yesterday marked the last of Holy Week. I went home for three days, rendering this online home unattended, silent. Yesterday I had a regretful afternoon and sought refuge in halu-halo, late unlimited-rice lunch, and  J. M. Coetzee’s words. He continues to teach because it provides him with a livelihood; also because it teaches him humility, brings it home to him who he is in the world. The irony does not escape him: that the one who comes to teach learns the keenest of lessons, while those who come to learn learn nothing. —J. M. Coetzee, Disgrace