For Example, A Flower
Arkaye Kierulf
We are protected from so much pain. For example: graves.
The earth’s roots and brown-black blood are busy
covering the soft, violated bodies of our loves.
Death is a secret, and the rain with its many hands
washes off the streets to the gutters death’s thick surprise.
The automatic shutter of the eye never fails,
the courtesies of the tongue. What goes on in the rooms of houses
is guarded from us by the hardwood doors,
the carefully closed windows. Whatever was said or done,
night will come, eagerly, to clean up.
And death will shield us, in time,
from the sun’s megalithic promise:
Tomorrow, the same day.
Tomorrow, the same day.
For example: A flower
is the most beautiful lie.
–
Ah, I want to read more of his poetry!
February 8th, 2008
Excerpt from The Sonnets to Orpheus: II, 13
Rainer Maria Rilke
Translated by Stephen Mitchell
Be ahead of all parting, as though it already were
behind you, like the winter that has just gone by.
For among these winters there is one so endlessly winter
that only by wintering through it will your heart survive.
Be forever dead in Eurydice–more gladly arise
into the seamless life proclaimed in your song.
Here, in the realm of decline, among momentary days,
be the crystal cup that shattered even as it rang.
Be–and yet know the great void where all things begin,
the infinite source of your own most intense vibration,
so that, this once, you may give it your perfect assent.
To all that is used-up, and to all the muffled and dumb
creatures in the world’s full reserve, the unsayable sums,
joyfully add yourself, and cancel the count.
January 29th, 2008
I finally finished the inking (which was begun a few months ago — yet another result of insomnia and ennui — then totally neglected and recently taken up again). Now I have to clean up the image (both the sketchbook image and the scanned version) and figure out how to color it.
I did Murasaki on a Moleskine sketchbook, which is not the most forgiving of canvases since it’s relatively small. Other residents of that Moleskine sketchbook include Briar Rose and the Queen of the Underworld.
This might become the first in a series of faceless women wearing assorted patterns. Haha! Seriously though, I want to do something like this using the patterns of indigenous weaving.
November 11th, 2007
Tila Ako si Bidasari
Ruth Elynia S. Mabanglo
Tila ako si Bidasari–
Patay sa araw, buhay sa gabi:
Naghihintay kay Sultan Mogindra
Na sa buhay ko’y ikaw;
Naghihintay ng maalamat na halik
Na isiil mo sa dagat na dibdib
Upang ibangon ako
Sa masasamyong panaginip.
Laon,
Laon na,
Laon na ngang ako’y naghihintay
Sa mga hubad na paang iyong idadantay
Upang muli’t muli’y iyong mapasiklot
Ang kilii kong natutulog
Sa balakang at batok,
Ay, dilim lamang ang aking kaibigan,
Ang karagatang lalanguyan
Ng gintong isda ng aking pagnanasa
Kaya’t doon
Doon mo iamba
Ang salakab ng dudupil
Sa malay ko’y pagkamulat.
Lambat mo’y ihagis,
Ihain ang bitag,
Lamayin ako sa iyong magdamag.
November 11th, 2007
(how can hothouse flowers bloom in an afternoon salon?)
Click the image for the full painting. I also posted the inked version some time ago.
She is a little twilight sparrow!
I planned a pale yellow/gray/blue color scheme for this, with some abstract patterns in magenta for accents. And then — and then it got way out of control. I can only say, in my defense, that when one is happy one cannot help expressing it, even if it is done in unnaturally cheerful rainbow colors. Also — yes, horror vacui. Sometimes I don’t even notice I’m piling all sorts of images and patterns onto my work, since my head is pretty much that disorganized and full of useless potpourri.
I really enjoyed painting this, not only because of the bright palette but because I also got to experiment with different brushes and the actual… water-ness of watercolor! To be honest I was a little tempted to add more depth to it but then again I liked how light it looked, so I stopped. After all, I’ve ruined too many things by not stopping before I went overboard.
The painting was mostly finished last night, but I retouched the right corner to… balance things out a little. I also — heh — signed my name. I always forget to do that.
Scanning made the colors sort of weird (especially the darker ones) and failed to capture the variation in the hair (there’s something wrong with my scanner in that it scans the middle part of the image with less accuracy) but everything else is okay, I didn’t have to retouch the whole thing. The original is still slightly different, though. My father suggested auctioning it off or selllng it but I’m much too attached to it.
Currently working on the Murasaki drawing. I’m very tempted to buy a set of markers and color it that way.
November 8th, 2007
Kthxbai Fo Realz
Cat Rizal (teh littelz sexeh kitteh)
-
Kthxbai cheezburger,
U srsly yummeh cheezburger,
Mai shiniez I gif u, tho it no can has teh cheez
N even if it had moar of teh cheez
I wud gif u all dat cheez.
OMG FAYT!
N teh kittehs also gif u der shiniez.
Whar kittehs? Dun carez:
Scratchy place, roll-around place,
Dey r all place for gif teh shiniez.
I go bai nao, omg hi2u sun
N omg bai2u dark,
N omg if u need moar colorsz
I gif u red splashies,
U can has it.
Wen I wuz itty bitty kitteh
N again wen I wuz haf biggr kitteh
I c u in sleepytime, cheezburger,
Yummeh cheezburger,
Full of shiniez and kitteh drugz.
Mai shiniez it can has
For teh win! I sez bai to u cheezburger,
For teh win! I sez bai nao for moar cheez
For u n moar cheezburger yummehz
N for mai wunnerful cheez sodat I can has too.
Wun day if u can seez mai kthxbai place
N windses! N flowersz!
Can has kissumz plz? I can has no can see,
But I can has kissumz!
N cheez!
Shiniez plz moon,
Shiniez plz dawn,
Blow plz windses,
I wants teh birdsies! In mai base
Singings teh songses.
Moar hot plz sun,
Rain plz to cum bak to sky?
N kittehs plz to cwy?
N wen timez wifout noise u pray, cheezburger,
Plz ask Ceiling Cat to gif mi cheez.
Plz ask Ceiling Cat for kittehs hu r ded,
N srsly ded, n omgwtf ded,
N for mommeh kittehs hu cwy,
N kittehs wifout mommehs,
N for cheezburger, dat u can has moar cheez.
N wen kthxbai place iz dark,
Wen ded r loneleh buh not rly,
Dun distewb! Ssshhhh kitteh!
If u hears moozeek
Iz jus mi maekin moozeek for u, cheezburger.
N when kthxbai place u forgots,
Even rockz forgots, no remembers,
Scratch wif big claws, maek messiez
So dat mai kittehdust dun go ‘way
N pwns teh burger on youz.
Den dun carez if I iz forgots,
I pwns ur sky! I r in ur base!
I be moozeek
N shiniez, n cheez,
N meni meows of mai feelingz. U no can see?
Mai cheezburger, hu I wants moar dan moar,
U can has ears plz, kthxbai — I go ‘way
From other kittehs, mommeh and daddeh kittehs, sexeh kittehs,
I go whar can has no doorz on fridgsesz, no lids on foodz,
Wer der is cheez. N moar cheez.
Kthxbai, litter kittehs, kittehs for teh win,
LOL kittehs, WTF kittehs,
Kthx, nao I sleepiez,
Kthxbai kitteh i dun kno, kthxbai shineh kitteh,
Kthxbai all my base. I r ded, I has moar cheez.
–
Tranzlayshun stuff I show you it:
1. This was translated into lolcat from the original hooman form into which it had been forced by hoomans who dun like kittehs– er, don’t like cats. I would like to thank my assistants, Catteh Peaches and Kitteh Cream, for their invaluable advice and suggestions.
2. The actual pronunciation of “mai” is much closer to the “mah” sound — it is produced at the very back of the throat, mouth open (though not wide open), with the sound being created by a sudden movement of the vocal cords. However, I thought “mai” was more in keeping with the spirit of the word — besides, “mah” is often used in other lolspeak anyway, so. “Mai” is the sound of a hypothetical cat trying to miaou with the sound emerging only at the very end.
3. It was upon the recommendation of Catteh Peaches that most of the exclamations and spontaneous questionings (”U no can see?”) were included in this translation.
November 6th, 2007
[Dove that ventured outside]
Rainer Maria Rilke
trans. Stephen Mitchell
for Erika
Dove that ventured outside, flying far from the dovecote:
housed and protected again, one with the day, the night,
knows what serenity is, for she has felt her wings
pass through all distance and fear in the course of her wanderings.
The doves that remained at home, never exposed to loss,
innocent and secure, cannot know tenderness;
only the won-back heart can ever be satisfied: free,
through all it has given up, to rejoice in its mastery.
Being arches itself over the vast abyss.
Ah the ball that we dared, that we hurled into infinite space,
doesn’t it fill our hands differently with its return:
heavier by the weight of where it has been.
November 6th, 2007
I spent one day recovering from my Puerto Galera trip (ah, well, the flesh is very very weak) before plunging headlong into a huge pile of work. Sadly I’ve been neglecting my half-finished drawings, paintings, and story nuggets for the sake of my current projects; much as I would like to play around with watercolor and words, deadlines have to come first.
One of my priorities right now is the Ang Bagong Libro exhibit. Basically, I’m the director Overworked Person #1 for this, in charge of organizing the exhibit, evaluating artwork, managing the website, various designs, etc. Today I worked on the website a little — downloaded themes, did some minor edits on static pages, tweaked a few images — and tomorrow will start e-mailing artist invitations. I also need to start working on (cough) a gallery of photos featuring Filipino books in assorted settings. I’m crazy, I know, but (IMO) seeing the book as it is does wonders for inspiration.
I have some pretty basic poster designs for Ang Bagong Libro — will have to scan some stuff before I can work on the actual thing, though — and hopefully I’ll have print-ready versions by the end of the week. I don’t want to go through another Libro.ph poster-making session, wherein I re-did the poster five times because the initial concept didn’t scan well and I almost ran out of time.
And then there is, of course, the thesis. I’m working on the first two chapters right now — “background of the study” stuff — and am finding it really difficult to flesh out the introductory paragraphs. Which just goes to show how much more of the material I need to study. Later tonight I’ll have to delve into the world of academic journals and textbooks; let’s hope I emerge from research mostly unscathed.
November 5th, 2007
The Last Hymn
Marianne Farningham
The Sabbath day was ending in a village by the sea,
The uttered benediction touched the people tenderly,
And they rose to face the sunset in the glowing, lighted west,
And then hastened to their dwellings for God’s blessed boon of rest.
But they looked across the waters, and a storm was raging there;
A fierce spirit moved above them–the wild spirit of the air–
And it lashed, and shook, and tore them till they thundered, groaned and boomed,
And, alas! for any vessel in their yawning gulfs entombed.
Very anxious were the people on that rocky coast of Wales,
Lest the dawns of coming morrows should be telling awful tales,
When the sea had spent its passion and could cast upon the shore
Bits of wreck, and swollen victims, as it had done heretofore.
With the rough winds blowing round her a brave woman strained her eyes,
As she saw along the billows a large vessel fall and rise.
Oh! it did not need a prophet to tell what the end must be,
For no ship could ride in safety near that shore on such a sea.
Then the pitying people hurried from their homes and thronged the beach.
Oh, for power to cross the waters and the perishing to reach!
Helpless hands were wrung in terror, tender hearts grew cold with dread,
And the ship urged by the tempest to the fatal rock-shore sped.
“She has parted in the middle! Oh, the half of her goes down!
God have mercy! Is His heaven far to seek for those who drown?”
Lo! when next the white, shocked faces looked with terror on the sea,
Only one last clinging figure on a spar was seen to be.
Nearer to the trembling watchers came the wreck tossed by the wave,
And the man still clung and floated, though no power on earth could save.
“Could we send him a short message? Here’s a trumpet, shout away!”
‘Twas the preacher’s hand that took it, and he wondered what to say.
Any memory of his sermon? Firstly? Secondly? Ah, no.
There was but one thing to utter in that awful hour of woe.
So he shouted through the trumpet, “Look to Jesus! Can you hear?”
And “Aye, aye, sir!” rang the answer o’er the waters loud and clear.
Then they listened. “He is singing, ‘Jesus lover of my soul,’”
And the winds brought back the echo, “While the nearer waters roll.”
Strange indeed it was to hear him, “Till the storm of life is past,”
Singing bravely o’er the waters. “Oh, receive my soul at last.”
He could have no other refuge–”Hangs my helpless soul on thee.”
“Leave, oh! leave me not”– The singer dropped at last into the sea.
And the watchers looking homeward, through their eyes by tears made dim,
Said, “He passed to be with Jesus in the singing of that hymn.”
–
This was one of the first poems I committed to memory, and, at seven years old, one of the most beautiful poems I knew. It still is.
November 4th, 2007
Pagninilay
John Enrico C. Torralba
May mga panahon at tagpuang
Wala tayong maipangalan
Na kahit anong salita o tibok
O mailarawang kulay o tunog.
Sapagkat naghahawan kita ng liblib
Sa sulok ng mga dibdib
At nag-iiwan ng init ng hininga
Sa mga hamog sa sapot ng gagamba.
Binabagtas din natin ang lahat
Ng bakas at landas ng ulirat
Upang muling magkaroon ng sindi
Ang mitsang matagal na nakubli
Sa talas at talim ng patalim
Ng mga lihim at malayong bituin.
Kinikilala natin ang pagtangi ng lupa at bato
Sa mahabang salaysay ng mundo,
Tumatawag sa apat na simoy
At sa mga sugat ay umaahon.
–
Will be at Puerto Galera from November 1 to 3.
October 31st, 2007
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