i can also feel... and feel for a wider space to grow and expand beyond my perceived limitations.


squeezing out free time

free time has been evasive so far. while i may catch short glimpses of it from time to time, it rarely lasts long enough for us to get to know each other more, or re-acquaint ourselves on the times we lost contact. free time caught me dozing off on a 5 hour bus trip to bukidnon for a ten minute hearing, and a 4 hour trip back. we never found a way to take snapshots of the day to day affair of what is or what was or what may be. it caught me again another time sighing off around five to six hours of travel time to a western coast village, but never in an opportune time to dilly dally more in its humorous normal bucolic or could be conflicted affairs.

i can barely squeeze out free time for a long comforting dream. what started as a good sleep turned into a salvador dali-like dream episode seeming david lynch-like nightmare of being trapped in a far away place confronted with options to not so wanted situations.

i barely squeezed out time for this. a few glasses of rh. a life check. things have become fast-paced, and amazingly, at least, free time finds me still managing well enough despite the limitations around.

a nine hour ride to dipolog is next.


with the 12, 79 remains

with the recent transfer of 12 hectares of land to the sumilao farmers, 79 of the 144 hectares still remain to be distributed after many years of agrarian reform struggle.


there's this kind of...

reading through j.d. salinger's nine stories, he came to de daumier-smith's blue period and a kind of feeling in relation to the now shook him, quoting from it:

I'm tempted to say that Thursday evening was peculiar, or perhaps macabre, but the fact is, I have no bill-filling adjectives for Thursday evening. I left Les Amis after dinner and went I don't know where - perhaps to a movie, perhaps for just a long walk; I can't remember, and, for once, my diary for 1939 lets me down, too, for the page I need is a total blank.

I know, though, why the page is a blank. As I was returning from wherever I'd spent the evening - and i do remember that it was after dark - I stopped on the sidewalk outside the school and looked into the lighted display window of the orthopedic appliances shop. Then something altogether hideous happened. The thought was forced on me that no matter how coolly or sensibly or gracefully I might one day learn to live my life, I would always at best be a visitor in a garden of enamel urinals and bedpans, with a sightless, wooden dummy-deity standing by in a marked-down rupture truss. The thought, certainly, couldn't have been endurable for more than a few seconds. I remember fleeing upstairs to my room and getting undressed and into bed without so much as opening my diary, much less making an entry.