Sunday Currently #3

Let’s do away with the usual kuda and go straight at it. I am currently

reading tweets, recaps, and articles about The Good Place, an American television show that I binge-watched this weekend; my favourite piece, so far, is Shawn Adler’s “A Moral Defense of Chidi’s Swoleness: An Ethical Examination of Abs in ‘The Good Place'”;

writing this post and another document that summarizes my notes on non-TGP articles I’ve read recently (e.g. Susan Sontag’s “Against Interpretation” and Gary Bettinson’s “Wong Kar Wai and the Poetics of Hong Kong Cinema”);

listening to the ticking of the clock and the humming of the furnace; I’m already in Sleep Mode so no more music;

thinking about how my weekend went — even though I didn’t leave the house and celebrated Halloween like a typical twenty-something living in This Side of the World, I still think my weekend was well spent;

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Sunday Currently #2

The sun is out today. It is cold, still, but that’s what autumn is — a season of contrasts. The rays are bright enough to slice through the chill. My, I love idyllic Sundays.

I might go out for a walk later. I might also head to the gym, or maybe I’ll just stay at home and concoct a meal plan for the rest of the week. Ah, we’ll see.

And just to beef up this post, here’s another update. I am currently

reading Pnin by Vladimir Nabokov — I wanted to read something short this time;

writing this post and nothing else; I don’t think I can pull off the OPM and migration piece, but I might — emphasis on might — write something on K-Pop non-hits;

listening to “Mary’s Boy Child” on YouTube; no other holiday can match the festivities (and consumerism, choz) brought about by the Christmas season;

thinking about Christmas just now; I saw on Twitter last week that ABS-CBN’s upcoming station ID should be a big pasabog now that they have Regine Velasquez; sheght I’m so excited;

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Book Tag #2: Of Friday plans and reader confessions

I have no plans tonight. R invited me to “his thing” but I already made up my mind: I hate social interactions on Friday nights. Sorry, R. Happy birthday.

Weather Network predicts a high of 13’ today (Celsius, not Freedom). I will be visiting another open yard site for work; I hope I don’t freeze. The last few days have been unusually warm for October, but I don’t want to jinx it. Oh god let’s not jinx it.

Maybe I should go to the gym tonight. Yes, that could be the plan. Go to the gym after work, go home, and eat cake. There should still be some beer in the fridge. Perfect.

I did another book tag I found on The Reading Hobbit. Fun, fun.


Have you ever damaged a book?

Yes, totally. And I don’t really care so long as the pages remain intact and the words remain legible. I’ve long abandoned this banal sentimentality towards physical books; nobody is any less of a reader just because their books look “used.”

Have you ever damaged a borrowed book?

Essie lent me (or gave me, haha) her copy of Junot Diaz’s The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao about 10 years ago. I’ve read it so many times and now the back cover is almost torn off. Sorry, Essie, for never giving it back.

How long does it take you to read a book?

It depends on how busy I am and how “heavy” the book is, literally and figuratively.

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Sunday Currently #1

Today’s a Monday, I know, but this is my blog, so let’s follow my rules. (And I’m sure the creator of this tag wouldn’t mind? Or at least I hope they don’t).

Anyhoo, I am currently

reading America Is Not The Heart by Elaine Castillo, and it’s hitting way too close to home;

writing this post and a thinkpiece (charot) on OPM and migration. The second one doesn’t seem to be taking shape though — I just don’t have the discipline to do research, prfft;

listening to Eraserheads’ “Sino Sa Atin” off the under-appreciated “diket-diket” album Natin99;

thinking that I really do like Natin99. Legit, beh. Enjoying this album comes with age, I think; I just never cared for it when I was younger. But now? Dude. “Kahit Ano” is the barkada anthem. “Tama Ka,” “Maselang Bahaghari,” “Pop Machine,” “May Sumasayaw” — damn solid bangers, I’m telling ya;

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Of speeding tickets and music habits

It’s been a long day.

I left the house a few minutes before 7:30. My goal was to be at the new work site by 8 am, and according to Google I still had enough wiggle room to get there right on schedule. I was cruising through 118 taking my sweet-ass time when I sensed a bright, white flash — a speeding ticket!

I couldn’t understand why I got flashed. I was only going a little above 60 — definitely under 65 — so, what did I do wrong? Maybe this was a 50 road, I told myself, but I wasn’t even a block away when I saw another flash. Wait — was I ticketed twice? Was there another hidden camera? Why would they set up two speeding flags so close to each other anyway?

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In The Mood for ‘Shrooms

Two weeks ago I bought a pack of mushrooms, the non-hallucinogenic kind. They’re not a lot, but they’re still a sizable amount that when my mom told me they’re about to spoil, I couldn’t ask her to just throw them out.

That was enough to force me out of bed on a chilly Sunday noon. Not that I cared too much about my mushrooms, but I really needed a reason to get up and quit lazing around.

The decision to hang in the kitchen was borne out of necessity, as usual. When I used to live alone, the only sensible recourse was to cook my own food and not waste money eating out. Same thing when I decided to stop eating meat — there’s no way I would force everyone in my life to go vegetarian just because I wanted to be one.

Sometimes I also feel an uncharacteristic desire to cook, usually because I want to try a new dish, or I want to re-create a dish that I previously enjoyed. This is a rarity though, because I am very lazy and I always let big i Indolence get the best out of me.

But today I blamed the mushrooms.

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Flying at Night

It’s 2am and I refuse to sleep. There’s nothing much to share, really, but here, a poem:

Flying at Night
Ted Kooser

Above us, stars. Beneath us, constellations.
Five billion miles away, a galaxy dies
like a snowflake falling on water. Below us,
some farmer, feeling the chill of that distant death,
snaps on his yard light, drawing his sheds and barn
back into the little system of his care.
All night, the cities, like shimmering novas,
tug with bright streets at lonely lights like
his.


The featured image is Vincent Van Gogh’s The Starry Night.