Remembering.

And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about. — Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

Over the weekend, just as I finished celebrating what would have been my uncle's sixty-first birthday eight years after his death, I received word that two of my close friends' respective dads passed away, both from illnesses. I have little to offer in terms of comfort; my uncle was a second dad to me but the last thing I want to do is to hug them and say, "I understand." So I offer this poem instead. I suppose in the eyes of many it is trite and maudlin, but it was one of my greatest comforts when I was going through my own loss. I hope it extends even the slightest succor to my own grieving friends.

God's Garden Must Be Beautiful
God saw you getting tired,
When a cure was not to be.
So He wrapped His arms around you,
And whispered, "Come to Me".

You didn't deserve what you went through,
So He gave you rest.
God's garden must be beautiful,
He only picks the best.

And when I saw you sleeping,
So peaceful and free from pain,
I could not wish you back
To suffer that again.
-Author Unknown

I first met one of the dads mentioned here, Mr Sugawara, at a delicious restaurant in Little Tokyo. It is one of my favorite spots in Manila, where my close friends (his daughter included) and I often gather after work, stuffing ourselves with takoyaki and beer and each others' company. We always kidded that he was the mayor of Little Tokyo because whenever he was around he would always ask to see if we were okay and eating well. For us, Hana meant friendship and fun and fond memories. It was--is still--a place of great joy. Do visit to see what I mean.

Invisibility.

So I tried to be invisible. It's surprisingly possible. -Angela Chase, My So-Called Life

Been out sick for the past few days and couldn't even enjoy the luxury of reading. Then house guests descended, and not being a particular fan of them, I've taken to lurking in corners and empty rooms. I hope I'll be back to regular programming soon.

Knowledge.

It does no harm to the romance of the sunset to know a little bit about it. -Carl Sagan, Pale Blue Dot

Came home from my first meeting as an official member of the Astronomical League of the Philippines. I'm humbled each time I realize just how little I know. Still, here I am, star stuff and luminous.

Druggie.

I was addicted to saying things and having them matter to someone. - Jenna, Waitress

Things are very different these days. I started over. Tabula rasa, and it wasn't as if I had come all that far in the first place. It's not too difficult to have to adjust to a life I once knew but I can't help but miss spur-of-the-moment katsudon (a la Banana Yoshimoto's Kitchen) or Ray Bradbury's 'un-pillow talk' (see his We'll Always Have Paris), and 'talk the whole thing away (p137).' Maybe I'm compensating by blogging again.

The Pursuit.

An exact copy of my life is being lived a million light years away
- Eric Gamalinda, from Poem Not Written in Catalan

I am always chasing after the memory of a man long gone. Twenty years ago, he had climbed a Wall, had brought home an autumn leaf, and had told me how he wanted to step inside a forbidden city. I am always chasing. I found the city he loved, crowded and mysterious and smelling of summer. It is not yet autumn, and I am still chasing. My breath comes in short puffs as I hold on to ancient stones that snake through mountains, hills. I cannot remember the sound of his voice. I am forever chasing after him. I have not arrived.

History.

Every journey into the past is complicated by delusions, false memories, and false namings of real events. - Adrienne Rich

Advice.

If you feel the need to write music, or play it, then do so, but believe me, your creativity is of no interest to anyone. Write something--then it's there. If it's what you wanted to write, if it exists, then leave it. If it doesn't, throw it away. Your beautiful state of mind is totally irrelevant. - Marcus von Altenburg, A Song for Summer

Standards.

The writer of originality, unless dead, is always shocking, scandalous; novelty disturbs and repels. - Simone de Beauvoir

Engineering.

Love. Precocious evolutionary move, fashioning Cylons to be capable of experiencing it. I don't know if it was engineered as a tactical imperative, but...it's not for the faint-hearted, is it? Perhaps Cylon love is not the same as human love. Perhaps it's designed to hurt a little less. - Romo Lampkin, Battlestar Galactica

Let's be Cylons together.

Procrastination.

That indolent but agreeable condition of doing nothing - Pliny the Younger


Certain invetabilities carry with them an air of fatalism, especially on days like this. Anyway, I haven't been entirely unproductive with my reading list. On the nightstand: The Conjurer's Bird by Martin Davies, The Crimson Labyrinth by Yusuke Kishi, Mr. Thundermug by Cornelius Medvei, among others.

Zhai helleva.

I am going away with him to an unknown country where I shall have no past and no name, and where I shall be born again with a new face and an untried heart. - Sidonie Gabrielle Colette

For my best friend, who is leaving for Finland in about seven hours. Wind to thy wings.

Word.

When I examine myself and my methods of thought, I come to the conclusion that the gift of fantasy meant more to me than my talent for absorbing positive knowledge. – Albert Einstein