Dibble Dibble Dibble Dopp

We open the window in the playroom and listen to something out of Explosions in the Sky. Rain falls in big, fat drops against the tin roofs. The city is covered in mist and is mystified. The little one listens attentively as I try to explain rain in the narratives of science, myth, music and poetry. We describe some pleasant smells that could accompany the rain.

It was another difficult night at work, capped by a long commute and I thought of when I can rest. It's stressful and pointless to even form a sentence to dwell on my exhaustion. As though the rain washed me clean of weariness, I'd rather not sleep and tell you,

(i do not know what is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody not even the rain, has such small hands.
-e.e. Cummings

On The Mysterious Flame of Queen Loana (Currently Reading)

One afternoon, she emitted an irresistible hiccup, blushed slightly (in your blood, which spreads its flames across your face, the cosmos makes it laughter). p.75

There are two different cerebral networks: the implicit (automatic actions such as body functions or driving skills) and the explicit (semantic and episodic memory). Semantic memory is a public-access memory, our knowledge of history and our remembrance of what we’ve read. Episodic memory stores events with an emotional attachment (what your name is, who your wife is, where and how you were raised, your passions, your soul).

The protagonist suffers a form of amnesia that only made his semantic memory function. Possessing knowledge of history and the world but not of himself, parroting beautiful lines verbatim out of the myriad literature he’s read, he sets out to resurrect his soul.

That’s me simplifying (probably in the ugliest possible way) the basic plot of the novel. Pushing it further to bad taste, I’d go on in saying that this is the Bourne Identity of Antiquarians (the protagonist being an antique book-dealer).

It’s been fascinating; how your mind can be so embellished with so much poetry and knowledge without so much remembering when you were born or who were the women whom you’ve made love to. Eco's style and execution makes this fascinating effect possible as he attacks with a whole stable of masterfully-chosen quotations and references. The illustrations are rich, but it doesn't leave you thoughtless. A hundred pages into the book, I was ready to concede that this was one of the best reads of my life.

Somewhere in his search for his soul, something in my own memory awakens. Inevitably relating myself to what I'm reading, I'm thrown back - cushioned with tender, delightful remembrance: to the long hours in the DLSU library. I rummage through my own attic of memory. I am reading, drunk with the moldy smell of so many pages my nose dove in between. I discovered and made so much of myself based off on what I've read and my experiencince of reading. And the book is still so pleasurably doing that now.

Even on a more universal level, our identity is interwoven not only with the facts but also with fictions made about the historical and aesthetic progression of this world.

It must be why we keep reading.

Trip Advisory

We've only had a beach trip or two, but we've probably travelled the farthest this year.

Because this year’s was an inner journey. We saw something of us, discovered and developed a new shape of us. We saw you grow so beautifully as though in each day – we landed on a wonder of the world we’ve never seen before. You’d expect me to throw a cliché or two, and say that you leaned like the Tower of Pisa, and eventually stood beautifully like the Eiffel.

Here with you now, is the best place we’ve ever been. Love all around.

Short Takes on Three Movies

The Adjustment Bureau. Spoon-feeding narrative utterly lacking in believability. Even Disney's Tangled seemed more realistic. It must be the directorial execution and a dialogue that terribly explains itself.

The Green Hornet has a more charming sense of humor than Spiderman. Kato, quite the character, asked if he knows/has been to Shanghai. He goes, "I love Japan!" The violence and special-effects action scenes are inevitable, but it's neither overly done or dumbed down.

Hereafter. This approach felt like "Death Actually" that takes after "Love Actually." But seriously and sincerely, this is another clean, classic, Clint Eastwood. Never formulaic, his touch is easily recognizable as he gently, thoughtfully revelaed the stregnths and flaws of his characters. The whole film was lovely to look at in its balance of movement, transition, music and color. Perhaps I have too much respect for the old geezer.