June 7, 2013 at 5:08 pm (anthologies, Books, Conversations, Places, Recommended, Relatives)
Tags: Bacolod, Burma, Filipino writers, Just published, Manila, Manila Noir, short story, The Philippines
“Do you know what shabu means? Did you know that each letter means something?” Cesar asked, pressing a clean sheet of aluminum foil between two one-peso coins.
“You mean an acronym,” Franco replied, a dull glint of the strip cruising his vision.
“A what?”
“An acronym. That’s what you’re trying to say. Each letter stands for a word. Like PBA. Philippine Basketball Association. Or NBA . . . “
“I get it. Exactly. An acronym. So . . . you know what shabu means?”
“I didn’t know it meant anything.”
“Satan Has Already Bought You.”
* * * *
The gossip in Bacolod. So-and-so had a shabu addiction.
Self: “How can he be hooked on shabu, he doesn’t make any money. Don’t you need a lot of money to get shabu?”
Self remembers how her cousin Manong Genray scoffed: “Even ‘sikab‘ drivers get hooked on shabu.”
Sikab is a bastardization of the words “Tricycle” and “Cab.” You can take one of these, 5 pesos (11 US cents) a ride. Cheaper even than riding a jeepney, which is 8 pesos (19 US cents).
Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.
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June 5, 2013 at 1:54 am (anthologies, Books, Lists, Places, Recommended, Women Writers, Writing, Zack)
Tags: Filipino writers, Just published, lists, Manila, Manila Noir, short pieces, The Philippines
Introducing, in the order in which the stories appear in the anthology:
- “When we learn about the sign, we must see it for ourselves.” – Aviary, by Lysley Tenorio
- “Casa Manila,” the docent announces, pushing the massive double doors twice before they give way.” – A Human Right, by Rosario Cruz-Lucero
- “Do you know what shabu means?” – Satan Has Already Bought U, by Lourd De Veyra
- “Sunday talk and it was all gossip.” – Broken Glass, by Sabina Murray
- “When we finally roll out, our seats are pitched up like we’re on a plane lifting from the tarmac.” – After Midnight, by Angelo R. Lacuesta
- “Nearly 13 million Filipinos ride the Metrostar Express every day.” – Trese: Thirteen Stations, a graphic short story, by Budjette Tan & Kajo Baldisimo
- “The neck is broken.” – Comforter of the Afflicted, by F. H. Batacan
- “Somebody died in this car I’m driving.” – The Professor’s Wife, by Jose Dalisay
- “Lala makes the sign of the cross when she comes upon the naked, mutilated body of Vanessa Blanca hanging from the ancient balete tree on Moriones Street, a block away from the Tutuban train station.” — Cariño Brutal, by R. Zamora Linmark
- “The story Magsalin wishes to tell is about disappearance.” – The Unintended, by Gina Apostol
- “Paco texted me, asking for a ride.” — Old Money, by Jessica Hagedorn
- “Which parts of a bird are edible?” – Desire, by Marianne Villanueva
- “First of all, she wouldn’t change the locks on him.” – Darling, You Can Count on Me, by Eric Gamalinda
- “She doesn’t have to travel very far to see her fortune-teller.” – Norma From Norman, by Jonas Vitman
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May 26, 2013 at 10:26 pm (anthologies, Links, Recommended, short story collections, Sundays, Surprises, television, Women Writers, Writing)
Tags: Filipino writers, Game of Thrones, humor, Just published, Manila Noir, Stella Kalaw, Sundays
Self received a message from Anvil Press of the Philippines, who published her third collection in 2009 (Don’t worry; you’ve never heard of it): They owe her royalties of 3,000 pesos (about $73)
Whoopie!!! Her first set of Anvil royalties! She feels so, so validated!!!
She also heard, via La Hagedorn, that Anvil is putting out a Philippine edition of Manila Noir, just out Read the rest of this entry »
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May 17, 2013 at 4:47 am (anthologies, Books, Conversations, Family, Recommended, Surprises, Traveling)
Tags: discoveries, Filipino writers, Just published, pets, plans, praise, Publisher's Weekly, short story, travel
Self got another rejection, this from The Collagist.
Did she ever share with dear blog readers that Manila Noir got a REALLY good review from Publishers Weekly? Yay! Big, big shout-out to Jessica Hagedorn, for doing such a smart job with the anthology (and La Hagedorn has a new story in it, too)
She bought a greeting card (with dolphins on the front) to give to son on Saturday, after his graduation ceremony at Claremont.
In honor of the occasion, today self delivered The Ancient One to the pet hospital, where she will board for the weekend. Self drove so slowly that at least two SUVs honked her. But never mind! The Ancient One has a tendency to car-sickness. She kinda let her bladder go all over self’s jeans (the only pair of jeans self has left, because four were in the suitcase that got stolen in Venice) when self was carrying her down. Despite smelling like pee, self made herself wander the San Carlos Farmers Market. This you can do in America: she’d never dare wander Bacolod smelling like pee, but here no one gives a hoot. It’s so much less stressful.
Because self and The Man have junkers for cars, every time we go south, we must rent. And this time, self decided to splurge a little, because she rented a Prius. And Holy Cow! She’s never driven a car that didn’t have an ignition. Only a wee button to press. Plus, there was so much unfamiliar electrical whirring going on, every time she did something (like switch from “Park” to “Reverse” mode) that self felt like she was operating from inside a battery. It was so much fun renting this car, because self was in the wrong line. She picked the shortest line, and only after she got to the front did she learn that she had been in the line reserved for “Executive Members of the Fastbreak Club,” whatever that means. But never mind. Rather than send her to the back of another line, the busy rep actually made the time to get self a nice car, and she even confided to self that she, too, had a birthday in July. “Which makes you a Cancer,” self said. “My husband’s an Aquarius. They’re supposed to be very incompatible with Cancer.” The sales rep said, “My husband’s a Pisces. Is that compatible with Cancer?” “Yes,” self asserted. “Pisces and Cancer go together like white on rice.” (Lordy, just see how self rattles on!)
Anyhoo, The Man is very excited that we will be on Highway 5. Because it passes Coalinga. And in Coalinga there are humongous ranches, including Harris Ranch. Which means steak restaurants. And that’s all he’s been talking about for days.
Today, self was in the Chef Shop in San Carlos and she saw so many fancy kitchen implements. Since son and his girlfriend are moving in together, self decided to give son a call and ask him if he already had a rice cooker. He said he did. So self was quite at a loss for what to get him. She decided to control her impulse to shop, and walked out of the store with only a ceramic butter dish. Pats on the back, self!
Stay tuned.
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May 5, 2013 at 1:56 pm (anthologies, Books, Links, Movies, Recommended, Sundays, Women Writers)
Tags: humor, lists, short story, Sundays, translation, travel
Self frequently alternates between books. One of her current readings is the Trevor Carolan anthology, Another Kind of Paradise: Short Stories From the New Asia-Pacific. The story she left off reading before she left for Venice was Vietnamese writer Pham Thi Hoai’s “Nine Down Makes Ten.” The anonymous narrator parses all the various lovers she has had. She was on lover # 8 before self left for Venice. Self will resume:
I did not know whether I was worthwhile or mundane, but this was not really the issue. I was grateful to this man and enjoyed the taste of his affection, despite a small stubborn girl within me who refused to cooperate. She said: According to this particular mode of obsession all objects are equal, and then I am no different from a potato or an ant, but if people like to manufacture an obsession by constantly stoking their own engine, then by all means they should go ahead. Gradually I learned to repress that obstinate girl and ignore my uneasiness with the difference between artificially produced obsessions and primeval obsessions. Let Proust distinguish between the two, or the column “Mothers Advise Daughters” in some woman’s magazine; I am interested only in my own obsession and its consequences. The most ironic aspect of its unforeseen consequences was that he and I both became pitiful victims of the obsession. It forced him to wait by every street on which I might pass, to pull me away from all activities, no matter how fundamental to existence: eating, sleeping, seeking work; it interfered with all my relationships, with my family, colleague, friends, and expanded into all areas and times that I liked to save to myself. I no longer had my own space, time, or lifestyle; my environment was upset, my psychological state was upset, my language went out of my control.
The piece goes on.
Self would also like to inform dear blog readers that yesterday afternoon, she and The Man watched The Reluctant Fundamentalist, Mira Nair’s new movie, showing at the Aquarius. Self loved the music, and the passion of the lead actor, a Wall Street yuppie whose small act of defiance (growing a beard that makes him look more “foreign” after 9/11) leads him to commit to larger and larger causes that have nothing to do with his job or with making money.
Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.
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April 15, 2013 at 3:06 pm (anthologies, Books, Places, Recommended, Traveling)
Tags: essay, Mondays
From “Etruscan Sunlight,” a piece about the town of Cortona, published in Traveler’s Tales: Italy (Solas House, Inc., Palo Alto) with an Introduction by Jan Morris:
There are tombs from 800 to 200 B.C. near the train station in Camucia and on the road to Foiano, where the custodian never likes the tip. Maybe he’s in a bad mood because he spends eerie nights. His small farmhouse, with a bean patch and yard-roaming chickens, coexists with this tomba that would appear strangely primordial in the moonlight. A little uphill, a rusted yellow sign is all that points to the so-called tomb of Pythagoras.
Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.
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April 15, 2013 at 1:06 am (anthologies, Recommended, Sundays, Women Writers)
Tags: discoveries, Events, Just published, Menlo Park, Readings, short story, Sundays
Self hasn’t attended a reading at Kepler’s in who-knows-how-long.
It’s been a Menlo Park mainstay for decades. Self knew it first as a small purveyor of paperbacks, in a teensy shopping center off El Camino.
They moved to a much nicer space after son was born, right next to Cafe Borrone. Self gave a reading there for her first book, Ginseng and Other Tales From Manila.
For a while, there were fears it might close. But loyal patrons saved it. Now, the store soldiers on.
There were so many things happening this weekend: the ballet, Zack’s reading last night at the Bayanihan Community Center. Self couldn’t make it to Zack’s reading because the ballet was happening – So sorry, Zack! But this afternoon, when she saw that Tremors (The University of Arkansas Press), the anthology of Iranian American writers that Anita Amirrezvani co-edited with Persis Karim, she dashed over, and was so glad she did.
- Seven readers: six women, one man.
- One rude heckler (He tried everything to disrupt the event: clapping loudly, muttering things under his breath, even belching), unfortunately seated directly behind self.
- A fellow Stanford Creative Writing Fellow, Sharon May (whose story, “The Wizard of Kaho-I-Dang” was set in Cambodia, and told from the point of view of a man).
- And the very charming Anita Amirrezvani herself, whose first novel, Blood of Flowers, self remembered being so enthralled by, and whose second novel, Equal of the Sun, has just been published by Scribner.
And here they all are, post-reading!
Anita Amirrezvani (the tall woman in the center), with the contributors to the Iranian American anthology, TREMORS, at Kepler’s Books Sunday, Apr. 14, 2013
Aren’t they all just radiant?
Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.
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April 10, 2013 at 6:22 am (anthologies, Books, Links, Recommended, Women Writers)
Tags: destinations, lists, memories, pets, plans, short story, translation, travel
Will self’s life never settle down? Will she ever be able to curb the impulse to travel? Or will she continue in this comical way, never being at peace for, as her Tita Ateta Gana, a very wise woman, once prophetically said after listening to self tell a hair-rising story about delivering Sole Fruit of Her Loins in Stanford Hospital, after 17 hours of labor: “Everything happens to Batchoy.” She didn’t know how prophetic she was!
Will she be able to get through 200 pages of Don Quijote tomorrow, in order to avoid her overdue fine getting any bigger?
Is she really planning to take Henry James’s The Portrait of a Lady with her to Venice, in hardcover, even though it takes up approximately 1/4 of her suitcase?
Is it good not to worry about clothes when one is traveling?
Will $150 worth of pain medication be all that Bella The Ancient One needs to survive the next two weeks?
Can self make it to Trieste?
Can she sit 13 hours in an airplane, in an economy seat, without her neck absolutely killing her?
Will she ever be able to finish anything she starts?
Two weeks ago, she began reading Vietnamese writer Pham Thi Hoai’s story in Another Kind of Paradise: Short Stories From the New Asia-Pacific, edited by Trevor Carolan. My, that story had her in stitches! She was absolutely entranced.
It is written in very dense paragraphs (translated from the Vietnamese by Peter Zinoman), but the tone is wicked sly. It’s about an unnamed woman’s various lovers. Self reads about Lover # 8:
The eighth man had the hair of a poet, the face of a poet, and a soul especially given over to poetry. Such qualities are found only in people who have a lot of time and no concrete obligations in life. When engrossed in the rising and falling of his watery waves, and once acquainted with his passionate love of writing – swiftly, without semicolons — I began to understand that the most worthwhile obsession is an obsession that is actually independent of the object of fixation. The object is only borrowed as a pretext, a means, an environment, through which or in which the obsessed person can project his own eternal and essential hunger, thus fulfilling the requirements of death — the dissolution of the ego for something, anything, that exists independently outside of one’s self. Perhaps that obsession should be controlled. At some point the most mundane catalyst, a skirt or a fallen leaf, is enough to provoke a series of captivating chain reactions, while at another time much more important objects will inspire only an absurd indifference.
Here, by the way, are a list of things that have remained constant in her life:
- Her undying commitment to Apple, especially her MacBook Air
- Her love of blogging, and her corresponding need for the internet. Dear Cuz Maitoni once aked self: “Must you always take it upon yourself to entertain the whole world?” That is such a very pertinent question, Dear Cuz! Self knows not why. On this question, she is drawing an absolute blank.
- Her conviction that she is absolutely made to travel: no matter how unsure she is about her cooking, or her housecleaning, or even the value of her writing, she has only to plan a trip when – VOILA! — happiness and confidence descend, and she can brave anything, even the worst bad hair days.
Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.
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March 30, 2013 at 5:26 am (anthologies, Books, Links, Recommended, Women Writers)
Tags: discoveries, humor, short story
Self is reading — in between her regular reading, that is – Another Kind of Paradise: Short Stories from the New Asia-Pacific, edited by Trevor Carolan (Cheng & Tsui, 2010). At the present time, self is reading about five different books simultaneously.
The first two short stories in Another Kind of Paradise were by Japanese writers. The third story, “Nine Down Makes Ten,” is by the Vietnamese writer Pham Thi Hoai. It is simply hilarious.
The paragraphs are very, very long — if not quite as long as a Jose Saramago paragraph. The unnamed narrator proceeds to dissect the personalities of all her various lovers. The woman is absolutely merciless. What keeps the narrative from being out-and-out funny is the fact that the reader becomes acutely aware of how much time the narrator has sacrificed to be with each man, and how futile all her effort turns out to be. Another thing that occurs to self is: what kind of parents did these men have, and how did they manage to get away with cultivating this array of eccentric — even bizarre – behavior?
Here’s the passage about Lover # 2:
The second man was frivolous and merry, an urban child who had yet to go through the period of spiritual crisis characteristic of civilized society. He was crazy about music, from Beethoven to the Beatles, and possessed a good singing voice, but couldn’t bear to practice. He also loved soccer and had a decent kicking foot but no concentration for workouts. Generally speaking, he had no concentration for anything, not even love. It’s difficult to trust such a man, since it’s never clear where the vectors of his personality are going. He seemed on first impression someone tremendously frivolous, one who possessed rare and peculiar notions of life, often puzzling to those who met him. His face was so natural it provoked suspicion, and I believed that under that wonderful skin lay hidden an extraordinary nature. How else to explain the perfect harmony existing between him and his environment, a final symbol of his capacity to live so deeply and so freely? But after only three sentences had been uttered from his lovely, smiling mouth, this first impression quickly evaporated. He was one of a countless number of fortunate young men who live an unexamined life, not because of some conscious principle, but simply owing to circumstance — frivolity as a habit, as a way of life. He was frivolous in all details, and only details concerned him. His frivolity manifested itself in the care he took in striking a relaxed pose, and in the attention he devoted to celebrations, to feasting and to appearing knowledgeable; this all in the context of a larger existence that was not at all frivolous, but serious and substantial. At a certain age, those as extroverted and unaffected as he sink into the cloudy chaos of life’s problems . . .
Do you see what self means, dear blog readers? She’s only halfway into the story: there is much more hilarity to come!
Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.
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March 23, 2013 at 8:19 pm (anthologies, Books, Places, Recommended, Writing)
Tags: Filipino writers, inspirations, Manila, plans, Saturdays
A few days ago, self received her two contributor copies for the Manila Noir anthology, happy happy joy joy!
edited by Jessica Hagedorn, published by Akashic Books
Her story is called “Desire.”
Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.
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