1. A conversation begins with a lie. and each speaker of the so-called common language feels the ice-floe split, the drift apart as if powerless, as if up against a force of nature A poem can begin with a lie. And be torn up. A conversation has other laws recharges itself with its own false energy, Cannot be torn up. Infiltrates our blood. Repeats itself. Inscribes with its unreturning stylus the isolation it denies. 2. The classical music station playing hour upon hour in the apartment the picking up and picking up and again picking up the telephone The syllables […]
Currently reading Mario Vargas Llosa’s The Storyteller. Halfway through Munro’s The Progress of Love, which I started first before Sacks’s The Island of Colorblind. Why did I temporarily stop reading it? Because Munro penetrated the border one created: the wall between what is labeled as personal and what is knowledge. Yes, because it is all about love—the one I consider scariest.
Winning a trip for two to Boracay is perhaps an elation for others. Well, I am elated—economically speaking. The ticket cost more than P12K, plus a two-night stay in a first-class hotel in Station 1. I inattentively entered the travelogue contest hosted by 88DB, a sister company of JobsDB. They picked my piece perhaps because it was not touristy and perhaps because I namedropped Jostein Gaardner. I wrote about a mountain to pay the sand a visit. Thinking of Kobo Abe. 😉 Well, the first visit was—in a way—unsuccessful. Leave those trekking gears. Pack those summery dresses, floral shorts, bikinis, […]