Report

by Arvin A. Mangohig

You bring me the weather:  localized storms
in your absence, the mere thought of you
and small climate disturbances occur in the room
in your name, tides in my brain shift.

Once, without you for one whole year,
it rained around me, even my blood
flowed like flood waters.
You returned in time to keep the seasons
from swallowing me whole, island,
tropical, at the mercy of the seas.

Now, you lie in my bed like an eclipse;
your sun still covered in the sheets
where you touched me, burns with dark fires.
I touch you and there is dusk
all around me like your breast.
I take my clothes off within it like a soul;
there is moonlight around your heart.
Certain stars are moving near us.

2001

– From One Hundred Love Poems: Philippine Love Poetry Since 1905, edited by Gemino H. Abad and Alfred A. Yuson

On-line now, self’s review of two new books about Burma:

• Justin Wintle’s Aung San Suu Kyi biography, Perfect Hostage
• San San Tin’s memoir, written with Carolyn Wakeman, No Time For Dreams: Living in Burma Under Military Rule

at the Women’s Review of Books website.

From the Nov/Dec 2009 issue of Poets & Writers, in an article by Seth Abramson on “The Top MFA Programs”, there is a list of “Writing Classes Outside of Academia.”

Self has heard of most of them, except for the one in Huntington Beach (Tebot Bach). Here’s the list, from p. 88:

Gotham Writers Workshop, New York City
555 Eighth Avenue, Suite 1402
New York, NY 10018

Grub Street, Boston
160 Boylston Street, Fourth Floor
Boston, MA 02116

The Loft Literary Center, Minneapolis
Suite 200, Open Book
1011 Washington Avenue South
Minneapolis, MN 55415

Richard Hugo House, Seattle
1634 Eleventh Avenue
Seattle, WA 98122

San Diego Writers, Ink, San Diego
P. O. Box 34374
San Diego, CA 92163

Tebot Bach, Huntington Beach
P. O. Box 7887
Huntington Beach, CA 92615 – 7887

Writers At Work, Los Angeles
4022 Fountain Avenue, Suite 202
Los Angeles, CA 90029 – 2220

The Writer’s Center, Bethesda, MD
4508 Walsh St.
Bethesda, MD 20815
(Self is reading here, Feb. 19 2010! Stay tuned for more details)

What happened today?

Self went to the Writing Center (She was almost late:  she awoke at 9:20 a.m. and it took her 20 minutes to change, brush her teeth, etc and get herself out the door. But that’s because she fell asleep at 3 a.m. — after long hours spent hunting up material for her novel on the internet).

The Writing Center was busy, but not unmanageable. Self has perfected the art of tutoring two students, sometimes three simultaneously. And the time goes by really really fast. And, on top of that, self found time to sneak a peek at a book that listed all kinds of classic children’s literature.

Then self went home (congratulating herself for having resisted buying anything from the vending machine positioned just outside the door to the Writing Center, a vending machine dispensing KitKats, potato chips, and all the sinful American candy one can think of that can be sold for $1 or less).

Then self found herself still so energized that she began to resume writing her novel (Added two pages — YAY!)

Then she decided to mail out two very short pieces. And in addition looked up another literary journal to which she has only submitted twice before (since she started keeping records, in 2007, that is), which means she can still continue sending (Her cut-off for trying is seven attempts. If, after seven attempts she still hasn’t nabbed even a “nice” rejection — that is, a rejection that says, in so many words, “Your piece reached the final round,” or similar — then she crosses off that journal forever).

Then the mail came. There was a very thin letter from xxxxx Foundation that self had applied to for a residency, over a year ago. Self was so sure it was a rejection that she kept that envelope for last.

Okey-dokey, so she fanned through all the bills, catalogues, solicitations, what-have-you. Now to envelope from xxxxx Foundation.

OMG

It was not a rejection. It was an acceptance. But, attached to the acceptance letter was another, a “contract”, saying in so many words that self must agree to never ever ever reveal anything about the residency, before during or after. So, you can see self’s dilemma. She can’t blog about it.

Never mind. Of course she is accepting the residency! As she really really needs to finish this book that she is writing, even if in the process of doing so she and hubby are reduced to the poor-house.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

It was the middle of the Saturday afternoon PAWA/Arkipelago Books reading at the Bayanihan Community Center at 1010 Mission Street. Myrna del Rio was singing (that woman has such a rich, smoky contralto!) to the accompaniment of fab Bo Razon on guitar. There was a kind of whispering going on in the back rows. Niece G’s friend, Steven, saw him first. Then, Edwin Lozada came up and announced, “We’d like to thank the Mayor of San Francisco for his presence,” and self turned around and

There in the flesh was Gavin Newsom!

And he looked exactly like his pictures!

And he was super-tall! Like maybe at least 6 foot three!

And he was wearing a very nice gray suit!

And he was soooo handsome!

And then, self was so glad she had already finished reading by the time he walked in! Or her jaw would have hit the floor!

Anyhoo, he stayed for a while and then wandered out again, but after he left, Barbara Reyes, who was the Master of Ceremonies, remarked, “Isn’t that just so random? He just walks in, and walks out again, and no one knows where he went!”

He was all by himself, and self got a vivid picture of the Mayor walking by himself all around the City (It was a very fine Saturday afternoon), dropping in wherever the spirit moves him.

And, by the way, the event today? It was great. Everyone was on their A game. Justin Chin was sooo funny (and self was so glad he led off). Then, self, and she needed a mike but –  salamat sa Dios! –  she was able to handle reading her story without too much stumbling around. Then, the musical performers — Myrna del Rio, Bo Razon, and Carlos Zialcita — were just GREAT! Self wanted to jump up and start dancing! Then, the afternoon climaxed with Sarah Gambito, and for such a tiny woman she has a big, big presence and her poetry is just incredible!

So, it was a wonderful afternoon, and self even got to exchange a few words with Merlinda Bobis and Alleluia Panis! And Liza Erpelo was there! And Penelope Flores! And Karen Llagas, whose first book of poetry is being published next year! And of course Edwin Lozada, whose organization, PAWA, was co-sponsor of the event!

And self found out that the painting hanging just behind the cash register of Arkipelago Books (executed in Amorsolo style — fetching dalaga in native dress) is of Marie Romero herself!

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

Self has a drawer stuffed full of odds and ends that she uses as bookmarks. This evening, she decides to examine them more closely.  Here are a few:

• A receipt from McCloud’s Pet Emporium in Fremont (Date: 10/23/93)
• A stampita commemmorating a nephew’s First Communion (Date: 3/3/07 — Ying was eight months pregnant with Anita)
• A one-day passport to Disneyland (Date: 3/1/94)
• A postcard she sent to son from Mojacar, Spain (Date: 9/16/96)
• A ticket to the Museo Nacional del Prado in Madrid, 400 pesetas (No date, but self knows it was 1996 because that was the first and only time she was ever in Spain
• A brochure for the 2008 Mendocino Coast Writers Conference (the year she taught there)
• A brochure for a tour operator in Tel Aviv
• A KulArts announcement for last fall’s “Butterfly Kicks: A Weekend of Works in Progress” (Participating artists: Joel Tan; Florante Aguilar; Josef Anolin; Allan Manalo; and self)
• a picture self took in the guest bedroom of Annie Aboitiz’s house in Cebu, the year she was doing some “deep research” for a novella
• a snapshot of the entrance to the Rainforest Café in the MGM Grand, Las Vegas (Date: indeterminate).  On the back is written:  Bing Q, and a telephone number (650 area code)

The newest bookmark, the one self happens to be using right now, is tucked into Luis Urrea’s The Hummingbird’s Daughter (which she started at 1 a.m.):  It’s a ticket stub from California Shakespeare Theatre’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”, Saturday, Sept. 26, 2 p.m., Bruins Memorial Amphitheater.

Stay tuned.

Brother Tommy, who is the best, absolutely the best brother in the whole world, just sent over (through his in-laws), 10 precious copies of The Lost Language.  Brother’s in-laws were staying in the City, so hubby had to rent a car to pick up the copies (since both our cars are being repaired!) Does anyone want to order? Self can do first come, first serve. She’ll bring the copies to this Saturday’s reading, as well. Then, whoever gets a copy will see that awful first story that had Dearest Mum reeling — BWAH HA HA HA — “Dumpster”

Let’s see, what did self do today?

1. She took out the trash.
2. She began reading only her second Precious Ramotswe mystery, In the Company of Cheerful Ladies (Her first was The Kalahari Typing School for Men) and is enjoying it so much! It occurs to self that if she wants to absolutely forestall any insomnia, she should perhaps quit reading World War II novels, or any books about the Holocaust, for they always make her angry and sad.  She went on quite a bender over the last one she finished, at 3 in the morning, Irene Nemirovsky’s Suite Francaise.
3. She watched “Oprah.” Hilary Swank was the guest. It occurs to self that Hilary Swank is exactly the kind of actress Oprah-watchers adore: she takes on roles with uplifting messages. She was married to Chad Lowe for many years and she divorced him without becoming tabloid fodder and is now dating a guy who is not a movie star, not a director, not glamorous. Perhaps self will relent and see “Amelia” after all? Especially as she herself could do with some “uplift” in the dull dull early weeks of November?

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

Today, self received calls from her regular masseuse (one of self’s indulgences is a really good massage, every two or three months) and from the nice Filipina who gives her manicures (another indulgence)  Wow!  Could they somehow have sensed self’s despondency?  Her aura must be very strong right now.

Self also went to the Redwood City Main Library and checked out Charles Dickens’ Great Expectations (No copies in the regular fiction section; she had to go upstairs, to the Young Adult section).  She hasn’t read a Dickens novel in aaaages, perhaps not since she brought Bleak House to Stanford Hospital, when she went into labor with son.  The book was so ponderous that the nurses would get very impatient every time they had to move it out of the way to deliver self her food tray.  And they warned her explicitly not to even try lifting it, as her stitches (Self had a C-section) might pop out.  Self distinctly remembers Mrs. King visiting her in the hospital and inquiring what she was reading.  When self told her, Mrs. King exclaimed, “Why are you reading that depressing book when you have just given birth to your first child?” Alas, self could not come up with a satisfactory answer.

Anyhoo, self was in the mood for some Dickens again.  Hence, Great Expectations.

She finished the Nemirovsky at 4 in the morning, then slept for four hours.  My God, that book had her so moved, she cried.  Especially when she got to the notes Nemirovsky had written about how she planned to continue the book.  Time ran out for the author, however:  she was picked up by the Gestapo in July 1942, and a month later she was dead, gassed in Auschwitz.  In the meanwile, her devoted husband kept writing ever more desperate letters, trying to find her, until he himself was picked up and disappeared into the camps.  Thank God, their two daughters were saved by a loyal friend, who raised them.

Today, self felt she needed to treat herself to something nice, so she went and saw the early show of “This Is It,” Kenny Ortega’s Michael Jackson movie.  Self happened to be in New York, in the East Village, on the day MJ died, last June.  She was on her way to a reading by Fiona Maazel and Wells Tower.  She was with Drew, who had tickets to Michael Jackson’s London concert.  Suddenly, Drew’s cell rang, he picked it up, and then exclaimed, “Michael Jackson died!”  And self did not believe it.  Not until they passed a group of young tweens who had begun to chant, “Michael Jackson’s dead!  Michael Jackson’s dead!  He flat-lined!  They couldn’t revive him!”  Ghoulish, they were smiling, so exhilarated at being the first to shout out the news.  And then everyone else on the sidewalk at that moment began to cry and talk at once:  “Michael Jackson’s dead?  No, that can’t be!”  And Drew said the tickets to his London concert were a thousand dollars a-piece.

So there was self, in New York, and Michael Jackson had died.  And she never felt that bad about it, until the day she went to pick up a prescription from the pharmacy, and just as she had parked her car (She had by then returned to California), “Man in the Mirror” came on the radio.  And, self has posted about her reaction:  she rested her head on the steering wheel and suddenly began to cry.

So, anyway, here is self in the Century 20, surrounded by about 30 other people (all white –  interesting!).  The movie begins with interviews with the dancers.  And they are all so overwhelmed by the experience of having been chosen to be on a show with Michael, that most of them are crying (and these interviews were presumably filmed even before MJ died).  One dancer said, “I’m Australian, and I heard about the auditions two days ago, and I took the first plane here.”

Then, a shot of the chorus line, and the producers culling their choices.  There is a blonde woman in the line-up, who the producers seem to be paying particular attention to.  “That’s the one,” they say, though it’s not really clear who they are referring to.  Only later do you see this blonde young woman, and she is a demon on the electric guitar.  Her name is Orianthi Panagaris.  And she will be a star.  In fact, Michael tells her this in so many words, during the film.  “This is your moment, this is your moment,” he keeps telling her.  Their scenes together are very moving.

And then, the dancers.  My God, they just danced their heart out.  There were about 11 male dancers.  In the movie, they are mostly in sweaty dance clothes, but the scenes are intercut with scenes from the dress rehearsal, and when the special effects come together it is fantastic!   People next to self were tapping their feet to songs like “Thriller,” “Billi Jean,” “This Is It.”

By the time they got to the very last song, “Man in the Mirror,” self and everyone else in her row were sniffling, blowing their noses, what-have-you.

So now, self has another movie to add to her “Ten Best” list.  It now looks like this:

1. Der Baader Meinhof Complex
2. District 9
3. Inglourious Basterds
4. Moon
5. Star Trek
6. The Hurt Locker
7. The Time Traveler’s Wife
8. This Is It
9. Zombieland

Self realizes that’s only 9 movies, not 10.  She fully anticipates rounding off the list, however, in the next month or so (Though she can tell dear blog readers right now:  She doesn’t think it will be “Avatar.”)

Stay tuned.

Here are the things self has to look forward to in the Fall:

Her reading this Saturday with Justin Chin and Sara Gambito, Bayanihan Cultural Center, 1010 Mission St. @ 6th, 2 p.m. Niece G says she will go and bring some friends (FREE AND OPEN TO THE PUBLIC).  YAAAAYYY!!!

Merlinda Bobis’ book launch for The Solemn Lantern Maker (Random House), the following Saturday, Nov. 14, 3 p.m., Bayanihan Cultural Center, 1010 Mission St. @ 6th (FREE AND OPEN TO THE PUBLIC)

Her writing group meeting on the 22nd.

Son coming home for Thanksgiving.

In the meantime, self is also looking forward to the following Fall movies:

• Avatar
• New Moon
• 2012
• Sherlock Holmes

And then, this is really exciting:  National Geographic is moving into the arena of scripted dramas.  Self loves watching the NatGeo channel, their imbedded reporters do a great job reporting from the field in Afghanistand and Iraq.  They distribute a Palestinian American drama, “Amreeka,” and now they’ve teamed with director Peter Weir (“Witness,” “Master and Commander”) to produce “The Way Back,” which the San Francisco Chronicle Datebook describes as being “about Siberian exiles.”

I didn’t know until now that National Geographic Entertainment teamed with Warner Independent to produce the 2006 hit documentary “March of the Penguins!”

Very much looking forward to the films National Geographic Entertainment will be releasing.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.

Tonight, self is quite wrung out from getting NEA rejection in today’s mail, and also from the realization that she really really is not going to have her teeth fixed in Manila, and will have to endure yet longer the Mother of All Toothaches (Dearest Mum helpfully suggests self consider having all of her teeth pulled, thereby getting rid of all her problems in one fell swoop, and at the tenth of a cost of a bunch of crowns), she decides to order out.

She hasn’t ordered a pizza in ages. She’s almost about to call New York Pizza (whose pizzas she adores), when she remembers that hubby does not in fact like their pizzas, and since he is the one bringing home the bacon, shouldn’t she always accede to his wishes? Well, after this very complicated thought process, self decides to call hubby to solicit his input. And he directs self to “a pile of coupons” on his desk. And self goes there. And she riffles dutifully through all the coupons (Hubby wasn’t joking: he’s collected quite a bunch!) And she decides to order a combo from a place called “Sopranos Pizza,” which is on Main Street, and self figures that since hubby’s favorite TV show is/was “The Sopranos,” even if he doesn’t like the pizza, he will see how terribly witty self was being, by ordering pizza from a place named after his favorite TV show.

Then, having ordered, self settles down in front of TV. She’s tired of watching animals on Animal Planet. She switches the channel to TLC, and finds a young reporter interviewing Kate Gosselin, who is all teary-eyed but stalwart, even when reporter mentions that Jon is dating the daughter of the plastic surgeon who gave Kate her tummy tuck (Lesson to married women everywhere: Never get a tummy tuck. It’s going to be really really baaaad for your marriage). After she tires of that, she switches to another channel, which is showing “The Greatest TV Smackdowns of All Time.” Somebody McHale is the host. He has a segment on Kate G spanking one of her daughters (The little girl howls horrifically, as if she’s been burned by a red-hot poker. Self having endured being burnt by the lighted end of an aunt’s cigarette, during her fifth birthday party yet, can attest that a spank on the butt is nothing to the pain of being burned by a red hot cigarette. And wants to tell the yowling girl to shut up already). Next, a picture of Octomom at a park with her kids, and one of them smacks her right in the face! Probably thereby earning the undying gratitude of half of America! And, moreover, little tyke runs off screaming at his Mom, “Bitch! Bitch!” Where did the young ‘un learn such language? Surely not from his mom???

Stay tuned, dear blog readers, stay tuned.