Compartmentalized

Around a week ago, Standard and Poor's gave the United States a credit downgrade, the first for the US in 70 years. Hard times must be up ahead, even for the Yanks. Hi-Ho.

Randy David, a Filipino columnist tells his story about the "Humbling of America." A humble America will have a trickle effect on ours and many other nations. We export to America, and other countries we export to use the raw materials we export to them, to export to America.

Among the many things that compound this problem, he writes, "They are shocked to learn that their country’s biggest single foreign creditor is China, forgetting that long before the recession, American consumption was already being funded by Chinese savings. They are traumatized by the thought that someday US companies would be owned and run by Chinese bosses."

Also around, a week ago, I was reading an easy read in the best possible way (which is reading by the beach, during a vacation), Kurt Vonnegut's Slapstick or Lonesome No More. In this novel, the Chinese had closed their Embassy in Washington, as they no longer needed anything or had anything to do with the United States. They had also compartmentalized themselves, becoming so tiny to the point of invisibility. In the process, they save their resources because of the minimal requirements of things small. They have also experimented with the with gravity through an an expedition of the lost secrets of the Incas. The Chinese also had colonies in Mars. They were creating millions and millions of geniuses.

The China piece isn't what the novel is about, but that's probably what's most relevant at this point. The prevailing notion nowadays is how hard it is to find anything that's not made in China.

There's a Picasso quote that goes, "art is a lie that makes us realize the truth." Hi-Ho.

***

"I spoke of American loneliness... It was a shame, I said, that I had not come along earlier in American history with my simple and workable anti-loneliness plan. I said that all the damaging excesses of Americans in the past were validated by loneliness rather than a fondness for sin."

***

Aside from ending some of my paragraphs with "So it goes," I'd like to think that Vonnegut has some influence on me. He clearly executed that wry sense of humor that worked on dismantling a xenophobic American culture and their megalomania with both a down-to-earth and out-of-this-world sci-fi approach.

Slapstick, he said in the prologue, was also the closest he had to an autobiography. That was my favorite part: the prologue. It often spoke of love for a sibling.

***

And yeah, in a world that centers on consumption, I've go to keep myself debt free, and save before spending.

For the last time, Hi-Ho.

Gentle People

July 30 - Aug 2 Dumaguete, Negros Occidental

Originally planned either as a family vacation or the out-of-town get-together during H.'s return, this trip was conceived out of long-drawn exchanges in social networking sites. We had to arrive in a place with some "character" and a level of friendliness for travellers with infants. By "character" we automatically avoided the"party"scene. We were a big group, with most our friends-for-life along with us. I thought dealing with each other's idiosyncrasies had always been character enough, given our history of high-school/college drunkenness and the rest of the vicissitudes in our coming-of-age. We still fondly reminisce and crassly put, I never fail to acknowledge (to myself) what an idiot I was. 

While most of our crowd still had pretty interesting profiles with a global activist/UCLA PhD candidate, art critic, indie film director, indie film critic, researcher, jeweler, Vice President or loving moms and dads, it all blends in pretty evenly when we spend the night playing 20-peso buy-in poker with stones and rocks collected from the beach as poker chips. We were, after all, in the "City of Gentle People."

The weather was also on our side. A typhoon and forming weather systems left the city just the day before our departure. The storm didn't choose to unburden intself on our trip. The nights weren't fully stitched with stars, and as L. puts it, we didn't see a fiery sunset, but there was some sunshine.


We went a round the city a bit before heading off to the resort. I thought I had an impression of the inspiration that seeps into the writers who often this place for the Dumaguete Workshop. There are towering acasia trees, along with the open sea's imposing presence and a slow, serene pace that settled like a balm.

Because reading by the beach is probably the best way to read and we didn't have a lot of plans other than lazing and lounging around all day, everybody brought their literature. S. had Salman Rushdie's Satanic Verses, M. had Gladwell's What The Dog Saw, A. had contemporary German Literature, and P. had his readings and answered NY Times Crosswords all day.I brought Kurt Vonnegut's Slapstick (Lonesome No More), but I also craved for a local read. Aside from the sea and the scenery, I speculate that one of other reasons why there are good writers in this part of the country is because there's a lot of striking contrasts on affluence and poverty concetrated here, the divide greatly defined by who owns the the sugar plantations. That affluence and poverty, history of feudalism, oppression, is always great raw material for stories and characters.

An underwater photo from S. & his A.'s time well-spent on the sea floor.

Along with snorkeling to see these promising live corals, fresh sea-food, kayaking, family-time, long conversations, a lot of lazing around, bottles of wine, rum, and over 3,000 bucks worth of booze we managed to have all the character we asked for.

I am thankful enough that while doing our partenting duties on a beach trip that needed a plane ride, we managed to find the time to read, get drunk or just lie on our own sea-view room's outdoor jacuzzi that bubbled with a cranberry scent.

Our little one, together with her little friend P., were also excellent travelling companions.

We couldn't have all done it withot the gift breastfeeding.

The Library at Midnight

Antulang Beach Resort, Negros Occidental

It was almost 12am and this library was still open, practically begging you to borrow the things between covers that were tucked between the shelves. Judging from their polite tone, mestiza looks and that recognizable well-off accent, the librarians were probably the resort owners' offspring. These books must have been from their personal collection.

"We brought our own" we said nicely, and we probably had different tastes in literature. We ought to say that the presence of the library itself gave the resort an added appeal. It cultivated the reading culture.

We started to notice that among the many signs, the resort also posted quotes from E.M. Forster.

The staff in the resort was friendly and accomodating. The food isn't excellent, the coffee is terrible but we didn't demand something generic like Starbucks. We brought our own drinks and T. made mojitos the way it should be made.

And short walk away from the infinity pool, they had a library.

Fiction that Happens

LESS THAN ZERO by Bret Easton Ellis was reviewed 16 years ago by Michiko Kakutani in the NY Times article, Books of the Times; The Young and Ugly. The most critical pieces of the book were precisely taken into account, and I happen to make the mistake of running into this excellent review to stall my own thoughts. Anything I'd say about the book (and perhaps what most people would say) subsequent to Kakutani, would seem like crap.

Now, the beauty of writing is that we are entitled to read our own crap. Nothing stops us.


In the lovingly-arranged, neatly-tailored, clean-living constitution of my family life, I craved for a novel that smacked me with, as Kakutani puts it - "a narrative, told in fast-paced, video-like clips, devolves into a litany of predictable scenes involving sex, drugs and rock-and-roll..." I need to absorb some virtual amounts of nihilism, disaffection, and general bad-assness. So when I read this novel, it's as though I craved and ordered for a triple-patty cheeseburger with bacon and gobbled with the pleasure of getting exactly what I wanted and more.

The casual nihilism of this book is needless-to-say disturbing. At the same time (at least to me) - it delivered that soothing, literary effect of reading something abominable being said with perfect nonchalance. It surprised me with a convincing authenticity that needn't even be detailed. The story told seemingly as-is, and with the genuine first-person voice, the minimalist approach demonstrates it's own powerful effectivity.

The book's been described as a grim sociological report or a disturbing reality that's been written. Disturbingly and quite selfishly, I enjoyed reading about insanely-rich fucked-up kids from LA, even if all this is just true. Beyond stereotypes, it read like fiction that happened.

Mr. Ellis wrote this when he was nineteen, and at some point I think that's really where the raw, underdeveloped talent peaks. This novel may be criticized for a lack of forceful imaginative transactions or literary grandiose, but if you pick up a book like this - you only need moderate imaginative transactions. On the better end, this novel isn't just pretending, and neither it is superficial. It's a good hit, and as good hits go you save another line for later.

----

On the State of Book Buying

Priced $15 back in 1985, I got a good, worthy hit even if bought this for over 625 PHP. It's one of the few titles I'd still buy from overpriced bookstores like PowerBooks. Most of my books nowadays are priced between 100-200 PHP. Big thanks to BookSale, and the proliferation of ebooks/new media that dropped the price of things strapped in covers. Phenomenally, Profligate Book-Buying has ended. But yeah, 625 PHP was worth every page.

The PowerBooks (MOA branch) I bought it from closed down a few weeks after.

I am One, One I am: Thanks and Wishes.

Thank you to the small people and the big people who brought themselves to us today and shared our happiness in celebrating little Mighty Mighty's milestone.

Thank you to the universe for drawing us to this vortex of optimism. Thank you for spinning us in such a happy twirl during the past 365 days. Thank you for giving us the strength to spend our days with just short hours of sleep, and revealing how wonderful it is to be awake and reawakened.

Thank you for the love all around from our parents, our brothers, sisters, relatives, friends, the wocket in our pocket, the nink in the sink, the zlock behind the clock, the geeling in the ceiling , the jertain in the curtain, as well as the bellar, gellar, nellar, and zellar in the cellar!

Mommy covered everything, but since being one only comes once in a lifetime, I have another wish or two. Forgive me because I'm about to get preachy. These things come with the package of being a Daddy. See, the world is an awesome, awesome place, and among the many, many sounds he'll hear, thing's he'll see, and knowledge he will again, we wish he finds humility. We wish that he realizes early on, that you are wisest when you are humblest.

With too many people who'd grown with unremitting mediocrity, we wish that you spell the difference between dull conformity and true righteousness. As your Dr. Seuss says, "Unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not." So Speak for the Trees, and consider a person a person no matter how small.

And yes, we wish that you'd grow up as a gentleman. Honor your word: say what you mean, mean what you say, say it politely, live through your afflictions as graciously as you celebrate your wins, help the physically challenged up the stairs open doors for the ladies, don't kiss and tell, and don't go breaking girls' hearts.

Lastly, just don't watch too much TV. And that is that.

Ten Times To I.

To love, to be loved

To pray, pray, pray

To live curious and discover that the world is as awesome as it can be

To care an awful lot for our planet

To seek and pursue what is meaningful and true

To respect small people, to respect big people

To think left, to think right, to think low and to think high

To stay in the healthy shape you are in

To be the youest, you!

To say please, to say thank you!

Drafted this as D.'s "thank you" and "wish" speech during I.'s Dr. Seuss themed first birthday party. Certain lines were borrowed from Arundathi Roy (first line) NatGeo and Discovery Channel slogans (third line) and a lot of paraphrasing from various Dr. Seuss books.