#19. Accept loss forever.

Jack Kerouac's "30 Cool Tips"

1. Scribbled secret notebooks, and wild typewritten pages, for yr own joy
2. Submissive to everything, open, listening
3. Try never get drunk outside yr own house
4. Be in love with yr life
5. Something that you feel will find its own form
6. Be crazy dumbsaint of the mind
7. Blow as deep as you want to blow
8. Write what you want bottomless from bottom of the mind
9. The unspeakable visions of the individual
10. No time for poetry but exactly what is
11. Visionary tics shivering in the chest
12. In tranced fixation dreaming upon object before you
13. Remove literary, grammatical and syntactical inhibition
14. Like Proust be an old teahead of time
15. Telling the true story of the world in interior monolog
16. The jewel center of interest is the eye within the eye
17. Write in recollection and amazement for yourself
18. Work from pithy middle eye out, swimming in language sea
19. Accept loss forever
20. Believe in the holy contour of life
21. Struggle to sketch the flow that already exists intact in mind
22. Don't think of words when you stop but to see picture better
23. Keep track of every day the date emblazoned in yr morning
24. No fear or shame in the dignity of yr experience, language & knowledge
25. Write for the world to read and see yr exact pictures of it
26. Bookmovie is the movie in words, the visual American form
27. In praise of Character in the Bleak inhuman Loneliness
28. Composing wild, undisciplined, pure, coming in from under, crazier the better
29. You're a Genius all the time
30. Writer-Director of Earthly movies Sponsored & Angeled in Heaven

via Dodo Dayao.

Found:

My traipses into Jonathan Carroll's blog almost always yield loots of beautiful snippets. This morning, I found this there and it just really hit right home:

The capacity to be alone is the capacity to love. It may look paradoxical to you, but it is not. It is an existential truth: only those people who are capable of being alone are capable of love, of sharing, of going into the deepest core of the other person - without possessing the other, without becoming dependent on the other, without reducing the other to a thing, and without becoming addicted to the other. They allow the other absolute freedom, because they know that if the other leaves, they will be as happy as they are now. Their happiness cannot be taken by the other, because it is not given by the other. 

- Osho


Is that beautiful, or what?

May the Holy Week hold for us all a time for reflection.
Peace be with you.

Ito daw ako, sabi nya

"You have a poetic sensibility and an ability to see beyond the day to day. You often seem to be living in a higher realm, or to be not-of-this-earth. Occasionally you imagine interior lives for friends and associates that are near-complete fabrications based on your fears or hopes for the future. You are often not aware of your own feelings. You have a strong sense of right and wrong, and because of this are often disappointed. Despite what can sometimes be a destructive inward-turning anger, you are very gentle. You are sometimes a bit out of touch with the ebb and flow of modern life. If your behavior is out of synch with your moral values, a severe psychic disturbance can result. Because connectivity is so important to you, you can become quiet and sulky if you feel that others around do not understand your point of view."


This is the result of a test I took, which I found over at Luis K's blog.

This dress, I love

I am such a sucker for tiny, girly dresses and I so love this one! I couldn't stop staring at it as it reminded me so much of my rustic childhood, hihi. I think I had a dress similar to this one when I was a little, little girl.
photo via A Cup of Jo

On a clear day...

Nabibigatan na ako sa hangin dito. Pagaanin naman natin.

I-click ang link na ito.

=D

This girl looks so pretty I just had to post her here

Hmm.
I just realized...
I haven't shopped in ages.

photo via the sartorialist

The Night House

by Billy Collins

Every day the body works in the fields of the world
Mending a stone wall
Or swinging a sickle through the tall grass—
The grass of civics, the grass of money—
And every night the body curls around itself
And listens for the soft bells of sleep.

But the heart is restless and rises
From the body in the middle of the night,
Leaves the trapezoidal bedroom
With its thick, pictureless walls
To sit by herself at the kitchen table
And heat some milk in a pan.

And the mind gets up too, puts on a robe
And goes downstairs, lights a cigarette,
And opens a book on engineering.
Even the conscience awakens
And roams from room to room in the dark,
Darting away from every mirror like a strange fish.

And the soul is up on the roof
In her nightdress, straddling the ridge,
Singing a song about the wildness of the sea
Until the first rip of pink appears in the sky.
Then, they all will return to the sleeping body
The way a flock of birds settles back into a tree,

Resuming their daily colloquy,
Talking to each other or themselves
Even through the heat of the long afternoons.
Which is why the body—the house of voices—
Sometimes puts down its metal tongs, its needle, or its pen
To stare into the distance,

To listen to all its names being called
Before bending again to its labor.


found here.

“I had a teacher I liked who used to say good fiction’s job was to comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable. I guess a big part of serious fiction’s purpose is to give the reader, who like all of us is sort of marooned in her own skull, to give her imaginative access to other selves. … We all suffer alone in the real world; true empathy’s impossible. But if a piece of fiction can allow us imaginatively to identify with a character’s pain, we might then also more easily conceive of others identifying with our own. This is nourishing, redemptive; we become less alone inside.”

David Foster Wallace
-via
 Jonathan Carroll

Weekend browse:

A walk across the rooftops 
by Luis Katigbak

One of the Butterflies - by W. S. Merwin -

The trouble with pleasure is the timing
it can overtake me without warning
and be gone before I know it is here
it can stand facing me unrecognized
while I am remembering somewhere else
in another age or someone not seen
for years and never to be seen again
in this world and it seems that I cherish
only now a joy I was not aware of
when it was here although it remains
out of reach and will not be caught or named
or called back and if I could make it stay
as I want to it would turn to pain.

I found this poem in Jonathan Carroll's blog. Such sad lines. It's painful, the truths they carry.

Hay.
*sniff sniff*

Little Mio

I honestly cried--no, sobbed--when I came across this little boy's story on his mom's blog.
He's a 5-year-old kid. Why him?

to understand here was a clown

who didn’t know where he was,

a clown without a context?

What could be sadder, my friend thought,

than a clown in need of a context?


-from "If a Clown" by Stephen Dunn-

Found:

Sasha Frere-Jones contemplates the timelessness of U2's music in this New Yorker post.

Some interesting bits:

"The band’s first (but not its sole) legacy is its sound, easily identified within a few bars: a high, chiming guitar figure, usually simple in structure but fleshed out by the ringing of open strings and the doubling effect of a delay unit; a charging, near-military beat and bass line stretched out with a little extra swing; and singing that is defiant and loud and slightly weird."

and:

"Yes, the band’s most famous member is the least technically gifted, and the most influential, the guitarist David Evans, a.k.a. the Edge, is the least likely to pipe up in public."

Her article further cements my belief that the band's detractors are wrong to judge “No Line on the Horizon” the way they are doing. Hmp.

(photo from TheNewYorker.com)

"I promise myself, to be too large for worry, too noble for anger, too strong for fear, and too happy to permit the presence of trouble."

What helpful lines! Got this from A's blog.

Marvelous Mac and Cheese

I did a double-take when I saw this mac-and-cheese pic over at ontheflyingtrapeze. And there's a recipe, to boot.



Mouth-watering!

Looking at the picture made me crave for mac and cheese but the closest I could have was a bag of chiz curls (shaped like macaroni and coated with cheese). lol

Snagged: How to Dress Like a French Woman

There's this ultra chic post from Joanna about a recent correspondence she had with Garancedore, which I couldn't resist posting here. It's a delightful exchange (Q and A) about what makes the French woman different, about what makes the French woman. Period.

Stuff like: having a penchant for wearing stripes, black and gray; the love for clothes-layering; the choice to wear their hair long; being partial to wearing jeans, skirts and dresses over leggings; choosing heels over flats (loved this bit!); how to achieve "that French je ne sais quoi."

Not that I have a secret longing to be French, though. I just find them tres chic et mystérieux!

Isn't this illustration just lovely?



Click on the links! They're both superb bloggers.
;p

What everybody's talking about

For bits on The Eraserheads' concert, click on this and this.
For the KC Concepcion/Richard Gutierrez flick, click on this and this.

I would have wanted to write about both, except that I've seen neither.
Enjoy!