A storm "Pablo", stronger than last year's Sendong that killed more than a thousand people in the cities of Cagayan de Oro and Iligan, is expected to hit this town anytime soon.
While everyone is preparing for the grave impacts of the typhoon, death continues to take its toll just like an ordinary day of living and dying.
Last Sunday, my dear friend lost his father and on the same day, I saw my grandmother in her bed as if lifeless if not with intermittent breathing through her mouth. Her teary eyes can no longer see, and I doubt if she could still hear my whisper.
Some lives ended yesterday, while some are diminishing today or waiting to be taken by a storm tomorrow.
Although life's limit is relative, life is arguably short.
And, when being reminded with the reality of dying, one begins thinking about living and loving.
Tonight, my friend bared how much he loves his father while listening to eulogies, and I listened to the crescendo of rainfall overlapping the music from my headphones.
Then, we started exchanging stanzas of a great poem ever written in between two towns that are 220.6 kilometers apart.
Alkansya vendor
It was the heavy traffic in Uyanguren Street on Friday afternoon that I noticed a kid selling "alkansya" or cylinder coin banks made of wood, covered with printed papers like that of gift wrappers. He displayed his products in front of a big food chain here, the one with a big red bee mascot.
While the coin banks were neatly filed according to sizes and placed on top of a used sack or was it an old cloth that marks his turf, the boy was squatting at the side, facing the wall, his hands on the head, grasping his hair in a frequent manner.
The jeepney slowly moved along and I had not seen his face. Until now, I am imagining how his face looks like, or what was its expression at the time when he was pulling his hair with a bit of force.
It was about 3:00 PM, when I saw that boy. Then, I said a short prayer, I wish someone would buy one of those coin banks that day. Before Christmas, I will buy my godchildren those alkansya from that boy. Hopefully, I will find him again on the same spot so that I will not only finally see his face, but share with him my smile.
While the coin banks were neatly filed according to sizes and placed on top of a used sack or was it an old cloth that marks his turf, the boy was squatting at the side, facing the wall, his hands on the head, grasping his hair in a frequent manner.
The jeepney slowly moved along and I had not seen his face. Until now, I am imagining how his face looks like, or what was its expression at the time when he was pulling his hair with a bit of force.
It was about 3:00 PM, when I saw that boy. Then, I said a short prayer, I wish someone would buy one of those coin banks that day. Before Christmas, I will buy my godchildren those alkansya from that boy. Hopefully, I will find him again on the same spot so that I will not only finally see his face, but share with him my smile.
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| Photo by Ace Morandante / www.davaotoday.com |
From Bertolucci to Bob Dylan
Bernardo Bertolucci's The Dreamers reminded me of a song I used to listen when I was living in Quezon City in 2009. I thought I heard one of Bob Dylan's songs, although I wasn't sure if it was his, but his voice was so nostalgic.
It felt like sitting at a table near the window at the third floor of an apartment I shared with my colleagues. There was nothing to see outside but another building, but I could smell the garbage and life of Payatas dancing in the breeze.
It was like at this time---two hours and forty minutes past midnight. I was a bit sleepy, but my head wouldn't sleep. I was just listening to "Mr. Tambourine Man" more than four times (apart from what I said in my previous post as I wrote exactly after listening to it four times).
But, until the movie ended, I tried to figure out who was the artist and what was that song I used to listen to all the time. I failed. I felt so betrayed by myself. How could I forget something that I like? Something that I listen to all the time only three years ago?
I had to open this blog to check on my blog post. Yes, the one that's entitled the title of Dylan's song. And, I so I listened to it again and to some other songs of Dylan and Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin and so on and on...
Then, I realized there are so many movies that I want to watch but I don't have the leisure to download all those movies. If only that friend I used to watch movies with (usually in his home on weekends) and who has all the enthusiasm in the world to download movies from the internet were still my friend... Sigh.
I'd like to watch more movies of Bertolucci's and that of Lino Brocka, have all discography of Bob Dylan, Janis Joplin, and... Well, that's too much to ask for now. But, because I don't have the luxury to make this happen, I tend to comfort myself with Mr. Tambourine Man until I fall asleep.
Listen to Mr Tambourine Man
It felt like sitting at a table near the window at the third floor of an apartment I shared with my colleagues. There was nothing to see outside but another building, but I could smell the garbage and life of Payatas dancing in the breeze.
It was like at this time---two hours and forty minutes past midnight. I was a bit sleepy, but my head wouldn't sleep. I was just listening to "Mr. Tambourine Man" more than four times (apart from what I said in my previous post as I wrote exactly after listening to it four times).
But, until the movie ended, I tried to figure out who was the artist and what was that song I used to listen to all the time. I failed. I felt so betrayed by myself. How could I forget something that I like? Something that I listen to all the time only three years ago?
I had to open this blog to check on my blog post. Yes, the one that's entitled the title of Dylan's song. And, I so I listened to it again and to some other songs of Dylan and Jimi Hendrix and Janis Joplin and so on and on...
Then, I realized there are so many movies that I want to watch but I don't have the leisure to download all those movies. If only that friend I used to watch movies with (usually in his home on weekends) and who has all the enthusiasm in the world to download movies from the internet were still my friend... Sigh.
I'd like to watch more movies of Bertolucci's and that of Lino Brocka, have all discography of Bob Dylan, Janis Joplin, and... Well, that's too much to ask for now. But, because I don't have the luxury to make this happen, I tend to comfort myself with Mr. Tambourine Man until I fall asleep.
Listen to Mr Tambourine Man
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