Monday, June 29, 2009

Says who #9

Rather than thinking aright, we throw in the towel too quick and decide nothing's ever true in its own right, and on that account saw off the branch we ourselves are sitting on. The real human progress lies not in moral relativism, but in recognizing what's universally true and beautiful, and practising it.

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Friday, June 26, 2009

Says who #8

Not many years from now, Michael Jackson will surely join the ranks of Sasquatch, UFOs, and Elvis Presley as we hear about rumoured sightings of him. Maybe we shall finally relate to Elvismaniacs of our parents' generation who believed he was still alive long after he was gone.
(from All the Little Things)

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Says who #7

I no longer know who I am. Just who I want to become. And it's a helluva job getting there.

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Tuesday, June 23, 2009

A postcard from Colombia

Maicol told me in his last letter that he would really like me to visit him... Nuestra amistad es como un cuento que lei solo escuchas pero no lo vez asi es contigo; solo te veo en fotos y leo lo que me cuentas pero no te veo en verdad. Quisiera que vivieras a visitarme... "Our friendship is like a book I read. I hear of you but I cannot see you. I see you in photos and only read about the things you tell me but I can't see you. I would really like that you come to visit me..."

I knew this boy would go far. And he's only ten! A poet lives in this kid and he's gonna do some serious damage when he realize what he is capable of. He has asked me once before if I have ever visited Colombia. This new letter reveals the reason behind his question. He wants to meet me in person.

And meet me he shall. I've decided after reading his letter to plan for a trip to visit Maicol in Colombia. I'll write him and tell him that I'll start saving up for the trip and hopefully it won't be too long before Little Chief and I see each other.

Lots of things to do in the meantime. Besides saving up for the trip, I want to learn my Spanish beyond song lyrics and basic greetings. Although I will be accompanied by an interpreter throughout our meeting, I want to be able to comprenda firsthand, as mucho as I can, what Maicol would habla...

¡Ay, caramba! The task looks nearly impossible but for Little Chief it's worth it.

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Saturday, June 20, 2009

"A Little Lullaby"

I guess this is all there is to it:

Little star, little star,
How you twinkle near and far.
Have you ever wondered why
Time goes by, time goes by?

Sing along, sing my song
As you twinkle all night long.
Till I wake to sail the deep,
Time to sleep, time to sleep.



Little boy, little boy,
Though you're like a rusty toy,
The time has come when you may
Sail away, sail away.

Fight for love, all for love,
Voyage to that distant cove.
Lest you're lulled by mermaids' cry,
Sail on by, sail on by!



Little girl, little girl,
Dry your tears now, precious pearl.
Though you're let down by your fate,
Love will wait, love will wait.

Guard your heart, search your soul,
What was once part will be whole
When you see his triumphant sails—
Love prevails, love prevails!



Little boat, little boat,
In a sea of woe you float.
Time stands still as you wonder:
Home yonder, home yonder?

Surrender all, abandon all,
Journey to your port of call.
Led by a secret from eternity past—
Home at last, home at last!

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Thursday, June 18, 2009

My secret life as a normal person

One thing that anyone who has risen from the dead would notice is the surprising drudgery of a new beginning, along with the overwhelming freedom of what can be.

Another day goes by without any writing done. I still have time to make up for the pagefill before the day is over. The wicked thing is I don't want to. I don't feel like it.

It's not the first time I don't feel like writing. Normally I would be able to trudge on no problem.

I just wish she hadn't looked at me the way she did every time I see her. We barely have a chance to talk after that day. Any construal in the meantime, if I let it, could easily make a dash either way.

Maybe I should just scrap the alter ego and resume my true identity as a thick-glassed writer with no life beyond his imagination. Trying to have a life and write at the same time is too damn hard, if at all possible. Every bit of energy disbursed in life is detrimental to the work in progress, as is already evident.

The pill bottle of life's little quandaries reads: Apply on fictional characters only. Not suitable for writers at work.

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Sunday, June 14, 2009

Tommy Emmanuel is back!

This will be my first cultural event in a long time since I settled in Melbourne. And the first time in three years Tommy Emmanuel is back touring Australia. He'll give his one-night-only performance in Melbourne on Tuesday, in the Arts Centre's Hamer Hall. And I'll be sitting back cozy up in the balcony, right of the stage, watching him perform live for the first time.

There's a couple of numbers I hope he would play that night. But no matter how the night will go down I can't wait and already know it will be an extremely pleasant evening.

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Saturday, June 13, 2009

Says who #6

All writers live with some kind of alter ego. You can't write and have a life at the same time.

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What is this thing called inspiration?

Inspiration is a funny date. She never promises to turn up each time you ask her out. But neither has she ever turned you down. All she does is smile. Yes. Smile. So that you know your invitation is a move in the right direction. But whether or not she decides to show up is something you'll have to find out when the time comes. Put on your tux and chill the best champagne in the house. You might suit up for nothing but when she does make an entrance you know you're in for a very special evening.

She might have a good reason for being uppity or she might not. But if you've ever spent an evening with her you know she's worth the wait. She didn't show up tonight though. Instead she left a note that reads,

"I didn't know we're an item. Words get around that you're a new man with me in your life. Explain."

I can't. How do you explain rumours about yourself? Did people pick up something different about me since I first pursued her? If there is any truth in the stories then they must have...

"Dear Inspiration,

As much as I welcome the idea, no, we are not an item. At least not as you would have it. Do not believe everything you hear through the grapevine. Then again I can see how the buzz might have got around. You see, despite the scant number of times you appear at our rendez-vous, asking you out everyday has inadvertently changed me. Please forgive my saying so, but the magic I have been trying to seize from your company has fallen on my doorsteps just from trying. I myself have heard something of the sort since you brought this to my attention. Some say I'm bolder, more extempore. The truth of which I can validate, for nothing trains a man's boldness and extemporaneousness more ruthlessly than courting you..."

Having known this Inspiration might never find me again. Or being the funny thing she is, one day out of the blue I might see her again.

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Friday, June 05, 2009

Says who #5

There's no magic in writing. Only discipline and a stoic patience to wait the good stuff out.

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