Sun Tzu Now, Part 2: Robert Greene’s 48 LAWS OF POWER

April 10, 2012 at 4:47 am (Authors, Books, Recommended, Relatives)
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Self is just crazy about Robert Greene.  Amazing, she never heard of him until she got to know her Bacolod cousins.  (There really is something powerfully mysterious about Negros Island.  Self doesn’t know why, but it’s been her homing beacon, her Unchanging.  Usually her instincts are slippery as eels, she distrusts them when she is in California.  It is a totally different story, though, over there.  In Bacolod, she is nothing but instinct.  Whatever she chooses to do over there somehow ends up being OK, self isn’t sure yet why.  But she will definitely drink this particular cup down to the very dregs)

This evening, self catches an episode of “2 Broke Girls” and laughs her head off (The girls sign up to be subjects for a clinical study –  of course, just for the money!  Terms like AL –  stands for “anal leakage” — and ST — “swollen tongue” — get bandied about.  Kat Dennings should take out a patent for  Best Sardonic Delivery).

When the show ends, self returns to her desk and picks up The 48 Laws of Power (which she has conveniently positioned right next to her MacMini).  She opens the book at random, and lands on p. 50.  At the top of the page are the words:

Part II:  CREATE AN AIR OF MYSTERY

In a world growing increasingly banal and familiar, what seems enigmatic instantly draws attention.  Never make it too clear what you are doing or are about to do.  Do not show all your cards.  An air of mystery heightens your presence; it also creates anticipation –  everyone will be watching you to see what happens next.  Use mystery to beguile, seduce, even frighten.

But sometimes, one can try too hard to create an air of mystery, and it just falls flat, you know?  Self thinks it is always best to “be yourself.”  (Anyway, no one can understand her to begin with, so being “herself” IS a mystery!  Problem solved!)

This must be the evening for enlightening quotes.  Just a few hours ago, she reached the “Dear Abby” section of last Wednesday’s San Francisco Chronicle.  A reader called “Wondering” inquired:

Dear Abby:  Regarding money and adult children, should a parent help all children equally if they are financially able to?  Or should a parent offer help only to the children in need (medical expenses, kid in college, new washing machine, etc.?)  If one child has a high-paying job, does he/she deserve any less from a parent in the end?

Dear Wondering:  Before deciding how to divide your assets, first discuss this with an attorney who specializes in wills, trusts and estate planning.  From my perspective, if you leave an equal amount to each of your heirs, it will prevent hurt feelings and resentment among them after you are gone.  Monies given before your death to one of your children should be tallied and deducted from the amount he or she is allotted in your will –  with an explanation of the reason why it is less.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

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A Wakako Yamauchi Turtle

April 2, 2012 at 5:31 am (Authors, Relatives, short story collections, Sundays, Women Writers)
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Any animal that appears in a Wakako Yamauchi story is no ordinary animal. Self knows this because she is currently reading the Yamauchi short story, “Dogs I Owe To” (Self posted about the story three hours ago and — fortunately or unfortunately — she has still not yet arrived at the end. That is, in three hours, self has only managed to advance a further two pages.  In fairness, self did cook dinner and also successfully revised a 28-page short story).

In a Wakako Yamauchi story, an animal becomes a vessel for unbounded humor and pathos.  Here, for example, is a passage about a turtle:

In our twenty-five years of marriage, we had one child, Joy.

My husband was a kind and indulgent father.  He gave Joy anything she asked for:  goldfish, chicks, hamsters, a turtle who fell out of his dish and disappeared.  Years later I found him under a dresser.  He had died silently in our bedroom, dehydrating in agony while we slept, made love, made war.

Which brings to self’s mind a memory of the following animal, encountered on her most recent trip to Bacolod:

This turtle lives with Manong Freddie and Manang Marilou on GV & Sons Street in Bacolod City.

Whenever self visited Manong Freddie and Manang Marilou, she could never resist bending down to have a closer look at this fabulous creature, who struggled valiantly against the sides of his red plastic tub, slipping and scrabbling, in a vain effort to reach self (as if he had fallen in love.  Whether with self’s face or with her voice, self truly cannot say.  She rarely elicits reactions of this sort, from animals or humans.  But she was always flattered by the turtle’s affection)

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

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A Dog and a Girl: Wakako Yamauchi’s “Dogs I Owe To” in ROSEBUD AND OTHER STORIES

March 22, 2012 at 10:23 pm (Authors, Books, Conversations, Family, Food and Drink, Relatives, short story collections, Women Writers)
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“Dogs I Owe To” is a wonderful story from Wakako Yamauchi’s collection Rosebud and Other Stories (University of Hawai’i Press), edited by the fabulous Lillian Howan.  Here’s an excerpt from the Foreword:

Secret desires, unfulfilled longing and irrepressible humor flow through his stories, writings that depict the life of Nisei, second-generation Japanese Americans.  Through the medium of her storytelling, the reader enters the world of desert farmers, factory workers, gamblers, housewives, con artists and dreamers, the bitter and the ever-hopeful.

And an excerpt from “Dogs I Owe To” :

The Great American Depression was winding down, but there was little money on the average farm.  We recycled our clothes and ate off the land.  Meat was not a staple at our house.  We didn’t keep animals on the farm because it wasn’t practical.  At that time in America, noncitizens weren’t permitted to own land, and Japanese, by law, were denied citizenship.  Again, by law, land leases to Asian immigrants were limited to three years, so every two or three years, Japanese farmers loaded houses and farm gear on trucks to move to yet another barren patch of land.  We were nomads; there was no hunkering down with large animals.  It was too hard to herd them from place to place.  We even stopped keeping chickens.

It was also before the advent of dry or canned pet food –  not that we could have bought Dickie any.  He was happy to eat leftover rice drenched in soy sauce.  In spring he gnawed on yellow crookneck squash.  He didn’t like eggplant or tomatoes.  He had on occasion mutton or lamb discarded by shepherds who passed through.  He woke up happy to be alive, jumping and bounding in the sharp morning air.  I didn’t allow him to touch me with his dusty paws, especially when I was dressed for school, so he pranced parallel to me, leaping and dancing, happy with even this tiny space in the grand scheme of things.

It’s a beautiful collection.

*     *     *

And, three days after beginning the Yamauchi story, self still hasn’t gotten to the end.  Last night was big shebang at Tita Lily’s house on Sixth Street, in honor of Tita Lily’s 93rd birthday.  There was:

  • ballroom dancing
  • chicken relleno
  • father of execrable Ida, who delivered the biggest snub (to self) a few days ago at the  Balay Daku, which only serves to prove how fierce a father’s love can be (And self heard that he himself doesn’t even get along with Ida!  But blood is always thicker than water, even when that water belongs to the family that has hired not only this man, but his daughter, and his son, and kept them all well-fed for 50 years)
  • leche flan
  • lechon
  • live music
  • mass
  • seafood paella with black rice
  • Zack

Self left early and found that she missed the slide show.  There was a picture of her as a toddler, sitting on the lap of Dearest Mum.  If self had been there to see it, she might very well be in a different place this morning.  She might be at the Balay Daku, attending the annual meeting of the GV & Sons stockholders.

But, as she told cousin Baby Par last night, she is an outsider:  an annoying one, to be sure, yet in the end completely irrelevant.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

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Fabulousness: Out and About in Bacolod

March 20, 2012 at 7:41 am (Food and Drink, Places, Recommended, Relatives, Surprises)
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Father’s hometown is one swell place.  Self loves it so much.  Yes, even after she was brought low by a nasty and particularly persistent bout of stomach flu, last week.

Here are some of the people self spent time with, today and yesterday, and a shot of self’s latest meal at the Negros Museum Coffee Shop (Tita Lyn Gamboa was not in today, boo):

First, self’s fabulous niece, Rina, enjoying a chair at the Orange Gallery in Lopue’s Mandalagan:

Rina, trying out the fabulous 50,000 peso chair at the Orange Gallery, Lopue's Mandalagan, Bacolod City

Gemma and Friend, just two of the reasons self is in love with the Negros Museum Café

Gemma who, with her sister Weng, is the heart and soul of the Negros Museum Café

Latest meal (Lunch today, Tuesday) at the Negros Museum Café. Homegrown duck, a pyramid of organic rice, and green salad with pickled vegetables. Oh, the fabulousness!

One of the things self was really looking forward to this trip was having grilled chicken atay (liver) at Chicken House.  Last night, cousins took her to the Chicken House in Mandalagan.

The best thing about this branch of Chicken House is that it is in the vicinity of The Orange Gallery, and the current exhibit, “Bucket List,” is a lot of fun.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

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Heart of Eccentricity: J & L Marañon Art House, Bacolod City

March 17, 2012 at 10:01 am (Places, Relatives, Surprises)
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Oh time is fleeting, fleeting, fleeting.  The trip is almost over (or feels like it might be, to self).  It’s not fair that she’s been laid low (for over a week) –  first by gastroenteritis, then by the flu.  And Zack is coming in just a few days.  And she wanted to be at least fully conscious for that stellar event!

Today, self spent the afternoon in her Tita Gloria’s house on Lacson Street.  Tita Gloria’s face is pale, all cheekbones.  She leaves the house every afternoon to have merienda at Bob’s.  Cousin Mae took self to see this really wild and crazy house.

Self would just like to say:  the word “wild” is taken to a whole other level in Bacolod.  See pictures below and judge for yourselves, dear blog readers.

The surprise is that this gargoyle-draped house is in the middle of a very nondescript street.  The kind of street lined with homely carinderias.  Where children play by prodding rubber tires back and forth across the street with sticks.

Same Wildness: From a Slightly Closer Angle. Sorry for the blurred photos. They would have been sharper if self used flash. But when self uses flash, the subject loses all its mystery.

This room was diffused with a greenish light that made self feel as if she were underwater. There were an array of shells embedded in the walls.

The second floor landing -- Romanesque.

Delightful Cousin Mae! The Best Tour Guide -- Bar None -- in Bacolod City

Spotted at a Drugstore Counter, Bacolod City. "Do-it-yourself" customer packaging. You rub the toothpaste in the paste and use it to seal the ends of the brown paper lying beneath the green tin.

Stay tuned for more fabulous Bacolod adventures.

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The Good and the Excellent

March 14, 2012 at 2:41 pm (Food and Drink, Lists, Recommended, Relatives, Sayings, Traveling, Women Writers, Zack)
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Self’s head is (as usual) spinning like a top, but here goes:  a tally of the Good and the Excellent (happening to self as well as to Beloved Others).  Self is refusing to acknowledge the Bad, as she now believes (via Cousin Marilou’s Facebook wall yesterday) that one must Change your Mind to Transform Your Life

  • The Fabulous Kathleen continues in the Philippines; self keeps up with Mz K’s peregrinations via FB.
  • Zack is coming to Bacolod –  soon!
  • The latest issue of the Asian American Literary Review is out.  This issue’s theme is “Generations.”  There is an open forum on this theme with a small contribution by self.  Other forum contributors:  Katie Leo, Ravi Shankar, Mariam B. Lam and Richard Oyama.
  • Self is finally over the gastroenteritis/ stomach flu/ whatever that was that made her cough out her insides for 3+ days, starting last Saturday.
  • Self has at last experienced (only for the third time in the past decade) the fabulousness of Ilonggo cuisine at 21 on Lacson Street.
  • Self dropped by the Balay Daku.
  • Self remembered that Manang Jopay’s birthday is this coming Sunday (and there is still time for self to get her a present –  YAY!)
  • Self hasn’t heard from her lawyer –  BWAH.  HA.  HAAA!
  • Self received her usual batch of rejections –  but since self is not at home and the husband declines to read them to her, self doesn’t feel the sting of rejection quite so keenly.
  • Self’s bright blue nail polish chipped –  which means self now has an excuse to visit the Salon again.
  • Self has decided to add Sagay to her list of places to visit:  it’s the hometown of the current governor of Negros Occidental, Marañon (Self thinks he is doing such a great job –  especially with regards to Negros’ agricultural industry.  And he’s decidedly not one of those landed rich)

Pancit Molo Goodness. From Ripples Café

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

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Wow! Wow! Wow!

March 11, 2012 at 10:09 am (Links, Relatives)
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Self just discovered that Camille Villanueva, daughter of her cousin Manong Junior and his wife Jopay (who in another of self’s discoveries goes by the nickname of “Uti”) is a designer.  Here’s her website.  The clothes are so beautiful!

Self loves the model’s dusky, Indian look, and the draping of the clothes.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

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Lunch Today, Punta Taytay: Abundance

March 8, 2012 at 1:24 pm (Food and Drink, Places, Recommended, Relatives)
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To Claim (or Proclaim), One Must Proceed With Caution

February 12, 2012 at 6:57 am (Calls, Conversations, Relatives, Surprises, Women Writers, Writing)
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You send your messages across the ocean, like feelers, probing.

In the rare calls from someone “back home,” you search for wordless clues, the hesitations that will tell you whether or not the speaker is on “your” side –  because, when you are raised in a Filipino family, there are always two sides, yours and “theirs.”  It’s always a question of allegiance.  To whom?

For years you’ve been talking about it, “my island.”

You blush when people ask you to name it.

Because here the word sounds ugly:  Negros.

You always end up explaining that the Spanish named it, not you.  Not any of your ancestors, either.

You hesitate to commit everything.  You will not, until you are sure whether or not these feelings are simply nostalgia.  Because who wants to build a future out of nostalgia?  Not self.

In the meantime, there’s a back and forth turning, between worlds.  So fast sometimes, the edges blur, and you are dizzy.

This evening, you watched “Kung Fu Hustle” with the husband.  You read an absolutely incandescent story by Luning Bonifacio Ira (in the anthology Best Philippine Short Stories of the Twentieth Century).  The husband became inexplicably cranky.  You resumed reading yet another book you had begun long ago, JoAnn Balingit’s poetry collection, Forage (Wings Press, www.wingspress.com).  You received a strange rejection from Ampersand which, in abbreviated form, said “sorry for the tardiness of this response, we appreciated the poignant imagery of XXXX, but we’ve already got dark and depressing covered for the next issue.  We’re looking for bright and weird now to balance things out.”

!!!!

Here’s an excerpt from JoAnn Balingit’s piece, “The Pitch”:

My father was not jealous of my mother’s garden.  Thank goodness.  He was jealous of imaginary suitors.  He failed to see her garden as the lush triumphant suitor.  His failure gave her more time.  His failure laid to waste her time.

If you were to replace the word “garden” in the passage above, with the word “writing”, it would amount to something very close to your experience.  Here in America, you are fond of telling people that you sometimes feel like “a Stealth bomber,” the bombs in question being your three story collections and the anthology you co-edited with Virginia Cerenio, Going Home to a Landscape.  By the time people notice, it’s too late.  You’ve become that which you didn’t think you had the courage to become.

To most people, you are one thing.  In your heart, another.

For all aspiring writers out there, you offer one heartfelt word of advice:  Stealth.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

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Indulged Today, Last Friday of October 2011

October 29, 2011 at 4:50 am (Food and Drink, Places, Relatives)
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Met, for the first time, a daughter of Manong Freddie’s and Manang Marilou’s.  Her name is Rina.  We met at Book Passage, then had lunch at Slanted Door.  The weather was gorgeous; we asked for a table outside.

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