For now, we've decided to keep this handwritten instead of storing it digitally in an anonymous blog that nobody reads. Nevertheless, it's a small-scale triumph that's helped me feel more alive, to do the right thing, live best, learn, and laugh at myself. What an awfully long and ugly epitaph.
It will all happen again. See you around.
Father's 76th. Attending a party in my 40s, I still have the tendency to be timid around people. After eating with my family, I sat at the edge of the hall by the stairs.
"What's Dad doing at the way way back?" My son asked his mother.
"He's at the farting area." My wife says. I can see them looking at me, giggling.
It's a farty.
Perhaps I've somehow understood the Black Swan. Everything goes your way, until one thing doesn't, a random stroke, and suddenly everything doesn't go your way. I am still learning how to deal with it. Expect the possibility of large deviations.
But not today, and not tonight. Because we've wrestled with the small
failures and won. Because we have not forgotten that "just being alive
is an extraordinary piece of good luck, a remote event, a chance
occurrence of monstrous proportions."
I've re-read my notes on
Black Swan and continued re-reading My Name is Red. Ongoing eternal
recurrence. Husrev and Shirin loving each other and dying all over
again. Tonight, I read the three parables of signature and style for the
second time. I'm amazed all over again. Similar to listening to
different versions or instruments playing Chopin's Nocturne No. 20 in
C-Sharp Minor.
Blue Moon has the pleasant, zesty aftertaste of orange peel and the character of a wheaty, Belgian white. I never would have bought this, if not for the fact that we got it buy-one-take-one today at the grocery store. So here it is, a little event of the so-called "randomness that produces the texture of life, the positive accidents."
That random ray of sunlight that fell on my children and made burst with joy while we were having a late lunch at the grocery store. The fluorescence the highlighted my wife's face that made me admire her beauty all the more.
Thrice a day, I take a 300 meter walk (600 with the return) from home to I.'s school. The first to take him there, another to bring lunch, and finally to take him home. I try hard to fantasize that the walk was pleasant: tree-lined paths, prairies, rice field and mountain views but the reality is a whole world different. The sidewalks have become extensions of houses and businesses and vendors, so pedestrians (including students, as there are 3 schools, 2 of which are universities, in this 300-meter stretch) walk the streets alongside vehicles and poop. This part of Malate has become the hub of overseas employment agencies and the labor department's office is right on the corner. Hundreds of people occupy the streets and edges of buildings lining up with their hopes of getting out of this hell of a country so that they can send they money they earn overseas, back to his hell of a country. We call them our modern heroes. And here they are, sporting their Jordan sneakers, passports, certificates and documents in hand, grilling in the maddening heat of April and May, as though they are rightfully being prepared for an execution. Along with the pollution of 12-wheel/18 wheel cargo trucks that we play patintero with, we smell the street food - of frying oil and dipping sauces. The same people man their carts and little kiosks everyday. As I walk back and forth, I see them labor, fighting on and fighting fair. The smell of calamares is most pungent, because we smell the sea wrapped in flour and bubbling in grease. The man who cooks it has an unforgettable face, the toughened face of the calamari man. A family sells buko juice. The daughter, helping them sell, is in a public school high school's uniform.
Oh, prairies and tree-lined paths.
I am still drawn by poetry and sentimentality. In the caves of my head, I've built cities and castles in a much kinder world. Prone to anger, and prone not to expressing anger. Bottle it up. Drink the bottle.
What I learned, at almost Forty-two, is that I should never tell anyone anything.
May I be granted the strength to take my pain inward, bear it quietly, with good old Uncle Walt's perfect nonchalance.
I didn't wake up early enough for the Sunday morning bike or run. So I start a new book and had coffee at home. Listened to jazz on an overcast Sunday morning. A roll call: Coltrane, Baker, Fitzgerald, Holiday, Davis, Evans, Ellington, Jones, Vaughan. Winehouse. No matter how dingy the room is, I'm in the fanciest cafe in the world.
D. just finished a 11-hour shift. We lounge around the living room and catch up on That 90s Show.
Now, I've got to wash the car. And then pick-up my new progressive glasses. Skin
tone, lightweight 6 gram frame coated with Crizal Sapphire built-in with
ultraviolet filters. In a matter of minutes, I've adapted to using bifocals. Grab two bags of croissant because Kuya is crazy about them.
I drove back and we watched ballet in the afternoon. Fast food dinner. Swung by the bookstore for supplies, then printer ink. We had to do some homework when we went back home. I must've had a drink.
V. writes a diary too.
Act I. I couldn't count exactly, but roughly around 40 young ballet dancers in flowery tutus open with Spring. A re composition of Vivaldi. The song that's on the top of my playlist when I'm Zwifting. We talked about it after the show. "Yes, I hear it when I'm in the toilet and you're Zwifting in the other room." Kuya says, in his amusing, budding sense of humor. "It makes me feel like royalty." V. says, dreamily and as if her dreams were real. Here we are, four of us, on the 5th row of the orchestra section of St. Cecilia's Hall in St. Scholastica's. Flesh and blood performance instead of watching something in another 2D screen as we mostly did during the pandemic. It's the first time we stepped inside a theater again since, and even if the performers were mostly grade school and high school students, the transcending effect of art and the efficacy of that magic courses through me and my eyes well up.
It must've been what the teacher mentioned. Be kind and be generous in your applause, she tells the audience of parents and classmates, because the performers did most of the practice and lessons online. In her opening speech, Teacher A. revealed that she is battling cancer. She found out around Christmas and she was wearing a scarf on her head. The dancers dance and the show goes on they've all already won.
During the curtain call, they played one of the songs they performed with, String Quartet No. 3, Mishima. Another song I've been Zwifting to. I'm going to Zwift to it again and I'm going to have to remember this. The day when the dancers won.
We're celebrating D.'s birthday and our anniversary. We're up in Tagaytay/Nasugbu again, just as we were fourteen years ago. This time with our two children, now 6 and 12. D. says this might be the last vacation when the four of us would fit in a king size bed.
Many of the roads have changed, widened, but ultimately losing that
quiet charm. The Silang area and the new highway wouldn't make you
feel like you're ascending a mountain. The traffic was so terrible, you
would have thought you're on your way to a mall sale.
When D. told I., "We're going to a hotel." He responded with "How many stars?" The moment we alighted, Tagaytay's cold and crisp air brushed our skin. Even the hotel's heated pool didn't feel warm enough. V. says, "this hotel is like a castle." She also reassures the friend she was talking to on messenger, that the volcano, a terrific view from our room, wasn't going erupt. On the drive here, Kuya I. wants to be the one to play music. Thankfully, he picked a lot of Chopin, along with his Sonic themes.
There are a few things here that never fail to fascinate me. Taal Volcano, and on the other side you can see Mt. Batulao from Alfonso and Nasugbu.
After a ramen and bulalo fusion, ebi tempura, sushi rolls (and local craft beer on tap), we head back to the hotel.
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They're all asleep now and I'm starting into the night. This fog has a magical effect. It rolls in and diffuses hotel room lights, the streetlights, the headlights of cars passing through the highway like emitted diodes. The fog subdues everything. Now the night seems even quieter, except for the repetitive trilling and chirping of crickets. We're up in the mountains after all, no matter how much concrete the hotels pour in. The volcano is submerged in a lake as though they cherishing an intimate relationship. Tonight, in her birthday, and in our anniversary, they sleep with us.
The fog stayed on until the morning, and with my family I feel like I woke up in a bed of clouds. 7k on the hotel treadmill. V. is singing "A Million Dreams" on the terrace. We drive up to the restaurants for breakfast. My first impression was that the coffee was overpriced, but I misjudged it. The house blend still had some of that crema, its freshness warmly smoothed down. Sipping this while sitting down with the four us, watching the rain and fog on the lake and the mountain. Pancakes, apple pie, bangus and tocino. Early in the morning, despite this enveloping fog, in the endearing simplicity of all of this, one can see things clearly. Fourteen years. How we imagined ourselves fourteen years ago, and infinitely more.
J: My forties always have way of of keeping me conscious that I'm forty plus, that I'm older and that has a significant impact of everything I do and the decisions I make. For you, how does it feel like to be forty or so years old?
Chat GTP: As an AI language model, I do not have feelings or physical experiences. I do not age, and I do not have a sense of self or personal identity. I exist purely to process and generate text based on patterns in the data I was trained on. My responses are generated based on patterns in the data, not on personal experiences or emotions.
J: How should people feel in their forties though, age-wise?
Chat GTP: There's no one right way for people to feel in their forties, as everyone's experiences are unique and personal. However, it is a common time for people to reflect on their life so far and reassess their priorities and goals. Some people may feel a sense of accomplishment and stability, while others may feel a sense of uncertainty or pressure.
Some common experiences in one's forties include:
Career advancement: Many people are established in their careers and have developed a strong skill set, but may also feel the pressure to continue advancing or making changes to keep up with the times.
Family responsibilities: For those with children, their forties can be a time of increased focus on their children's education and future. For those without children, it can be a time to focus on other family responsibilities.
Health concerns: As people enter their forties, they may start to become more aware of their physical and mental health and take steps to maintain or improve it.
Financial stability: People in their forties may be focused on building financial security for their future, including planning for retirement.
These are just a few examples, and everyone's experiences will be different. It's important to remember that it's okay to feel a range of emotions as you navigate this stage of life, and that it's normal to reassess your priorities and goals as you get older.
We dwell on what could have been, for the exact same reason - to be reminded of something "as precious and just as powerful. A love that remembers, a love that inspires, a love that transcends." A love of country. "Ang nagmamahal walang-sawang ipaglalaban ang minamahal. Walang dapat ikatakot." And we hope, because sooner, rather than later, this will not just be as it was, not just as it should be, but as it will.
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AI Generated (Night Cafe) Malate, Manila Philippines |
Me: Write a 200 word blog entry about disruptors, emerging technologies and the evolution of artificial intelligence until chat GTP. Mention its effect on literature, lifestyle, and work. Try to sneak in a joke. No need to sound all serious, just be your AI self.
Chat GTP:
Artificial Intelligence has come a long way since its inception. From simple rule-based systems to cutting-edge chatbots like me, ChatGPT, AI has disrupted the way we live, work, and communicate. The evolution of AI has been phenomenal, leading to breakthroughs in fields such as healthcare, finance, and transportation.
AI has also impacted the way we experience literature, making it more interactive and personalized. With AI-powered recommendations, readers can now discover new books that cater to their individual tastes and preferences. It's like having a librarian who never takes a day off, always up for a chat and with a good sense of humor.
As for lifestyle, AI has made our lives more convenient with the help of virtual assistants, smart home devices, and autonomous cars. It's like having a personal butler who never complains about working overtime.
In the workplace, AI is revolutionizing the way we work by automating mundane tasks and freeing up our time to focus on more important and creative tasks. It's like having an intern who never calls in sick, is always on time, and never demands a raise.
In conclusion, AI has come a long way and is set to disrupt even more industries in the future. So sit back, grab a cup of coffee and let AI take over. Jokes aside, the possibilities with AI are endless, and it's an exciting time to be a part of this revolution.
Me: Now, write a haiku about disruptors, AI and technology with focus on its effect on poetry and literature.
Chat GTP:
I still log-in to LinkedIn for business-related purposes: to catch-up on trends, pick-up some buzz words, and with some diligence - research and reference materials that I will use for the more advanced classes. "Quiet quitting," for example. I suppose I can't afford to completely lock out on that corporate rhythm. It's also genuinely good to see people moving up the organizational ladder. It's flattering to receive job offers or invitations from former colleagues. Perhaps the job vacancies are really that bad. But unless I really have to, I won't be running back on that rat race.
The only thing that resembles an org chart that I have to map out and watch out for is this:
After watching House of the Dragon (which aired on Monday mornings in my time zone - coincidentally, the most optimal, perhaps the most toxic time for meetings and business reviews), I don't have the emotional quotient to wait 2 years for the sequel. I started reading (and listening to the audio companion) Fire and Blood, to satisfy my craving for fire and blood, fantasy, and this story of human frailty. HBO aired The White Lotus and I thoroughly enjoyed that too on the subsequent Monday mornings.
Fantasies are best enjoyed during the holidays. The cold air from the north adds a magical element in a tropical country. It is the season of revelry, drunkenness, profligate spending (in the poorest of countries) but also the season of sharing and kindness. A fantastic symmetry.
This is also the time when my country's Civil Aviation Authority (inaugurated 5 years ago with a 13 billion price tag, but without a back-up system) had a fiasco. Air traffic control power issues left our air space completely empty, all passengers stranded and scrambling for days to come. I suppose we'll have more of these things for the years to come, largely because of who we choose to put in power.
Yesterday, Tuesday, my wife and daughter were on the grocery store and I asked if I sit down in the cafe to read while they shop. I'm on the last hundred pages (of around 600) of Fire and Blood. It's already January, and the resumption of office work has started rolling. The grocery store is bare and empty compared to the wild party it was during the peak of the holiday season. I consider myself more than fortunate, because the mocha latte was surprisingly good for less than 100 pesos, the barista's service was earnest, and I felt that he might've squeezed in an extra pump which made this a really sweet deal.
In the book, the dance of the dragons has concluded and I've witnessed the gruesome end of the Blacks and the Greens. The holidays have ended too and grind's been set in motion.
Lucky for some of us, we don't need that quiet quitting nonsense.
