Personal Library # 30: Son’s Room # 11

Self still lost in the thickets of son’s room.  But the end is in sight!

The number of books on the 2nd shelf above son’s desk:  47

1079 + 47 = 1126 Total Books Counted Thus Far

Some of the titles:  The Father, a poetry collection by Sharon Olds;  50 Stories From Israel:  An Anthology, edited by Zisi Stavi;  The 48 Laws of Power, by Robert Greene;  100 Cases That Every Scots Law Student Needs to Know, edited by W. Green;  Drive-By Vigils, by R. Zamora Linmark;  Pinoy Capital:  The Filipino Nation in Daly City, by Benito M. Vergara, Jr.;  The Best American Travel Writing 2011, edited by Sloane Crosley (“Treason only matters when it is committed by trusted men.”);  Word Painting:  A Guide to Writing More Descriptively, by Rebecca McClanahan;  Winterbirth:  The Godless World, Book One, by Brian Ruckley (This one self picked up in a bookstore in Edinburgh);  If I Write You This Poem, Will You Make It Fly:  Poems, by Simeon Dumdum, Jr.

Here’s a short passage from Winterbirth:

The great column was led by a hundred or more mounted warriors.  Many bore wounds, still fresh from the lost battle on the fields by Kan Avor; all bore, in their red-rimmed eyes and wan skin, the marks of exhaustion.  Behind them came the multitude:  women, children and men, though fewest of the last.  Thousands of widows had been made that year.

It was a punishing exodus.  Their way was paved with hard rock and sharp stones that cut feet and turned ankles.  There could be no pause.  Any who fell ill were seized by those who came behind, hauled upright with shouts of encouragement, as if noise alone could put strength back into their legs.  If they could not rise, they were left.  There were already dozens of buzzards and ravens drifting lazily above the column.  Some had followed it all the way up the Glas valley from the south; others were residents of the mountains, drawn from their lofty perches by the promise of carrion.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

Stranger Still: Café Irreal 45

There is a story about a baby that self has been pondering for weeks.  Weeks!  Here’s the beginning:

“Worn Smooth by the Passage of Time,” by Jenn Marie Nunes

By boyfriend gives me a baby as a going-away gift.  It is a blue-colored baby.  Looks sort of like a potato and sort of like a piece of sea glass and I am not even sure it is a baby, but that’s what he says when I unwrap it.

“I want you to have this baby,” he says, “to remember me by.”  And he picks up the plastic bag with his shirts and socks and the special set of pints he’s stolen from his favorite bars.

“Thanks,” I say.  I would rather kick him in the shin, but it’s very early in the morning and I haven’t had my coffee yet.”

“Word,” he says and walks out the door.

Read the rest of it here.

What is it with self?  She takes such pleasure in the grotesque.

Do not read the rest of the story if you are the least bit squeamish, dear blog readers.

Stay tuned.

Personal Library # 29: Son’s Room # 10

As far as the book tallying project, self seems to be lost in the thickets of son’s room.  She’s on the shelves above his desk:

1028 + 51 = 1079 Total Books Counted Thus Far

Some of the titles:  Handwriting Analysis:  The Complete Basic Book, by Karen Amend & Mary S. Ruiz;  Against the Shore:  The Best of the Pacific Rim Review of Books, edited by Trevor Carolan and Richard Olafson;  The Cradle, by Patrick Somerville;  Deepening Fiction:  A Practical Guide for Intermediate and Advanced Writers, by Sarah Stone and Ron Nyren;  Handbook of Prayers:  A Complete Treasury of Prayers and Order of Mass, by Charles Belmonte and James Socias;  The Lover, by Marguerite Duras;  Empire, by Orson Scott Card (“Treason only matters when it is committed by trusted men.”);  The Philippines Handbook, by Peter Harper & Laurie Fullerton;  Philippine Speculative Fiction III, edited by Dean Francis Alfar & Nikki Alfar;  Self Potraits 2:  Fourteen Filipina Artists Speak, edited by Thelma B. Kintanar and Sylvia Menendez Ventura; The Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

Personal Library # 26: Son’s Room, Part 7

When will self ever finish this book tabulation project, she wonders?

She is still counting books in the tall bookcase in son’s room.

There are 20 books on the third shelf.

877 + 21 = 898 Total Books Counted Thus Far

Of course, on this shelf, as on the previous ones, there are, in addition to books:  an MGM Grand room key;  rocks, both shiny and not; corn husk people (obviously, some grade school art project), and many, many video games like Command and Conquer.

So, here are some of the books on this shelf:  The Night Angel Trilogy (Books 1, 2, and 3), by Brent Weeks;  Black Hawk Down:  A Story of Modern War, by Mark Bowden (Incidentally, his piece on the killing of OBL, in the December Vanity Fair, was more gripping than the Kathryn Bigelow movie, in self’s humble opinion); Before & After:  Stories From New York, edited by Thomas Beller (This is a very interesting book:  it has two covers, one showing the New York skyline with the WTC towers, and the other showing the day of, with the towers already surrounded by great billowing clouds of smoke.  The “Before” contains a piece by Manny Howard called “The Jumper” that begins:  “I recently spent an afternoon watching a guy entertaining three of New York’s finest on the eastern parapet of the Brooklyn Bridge.”);  Ship Breaker, by Paolo Bacigalupi; The Men Who Play God, a short story collection by the late, great Arturo B. Rotor; and Scunnered:  Slices of Scottish Life in Seventeen Gallus Syllables, by Des Dillon (Sample:  “Attitude:  Treating every time/ like it’s the very last time/ feels like the first time.”)

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

Personal Library 11

Merry Christmas, dear blog readers!

It is raining again.

But so what.  Self likes the rain.  As long as it doesn’t come with high winds.  Like, this morning, self was even able to go outside without a poncho and plant a new begonia.  Getting wet now and then is very good for the soul.

Onward with the book tabulation!

Self is now starting with the second bookcase in the dining room.  This is the one right underneath the Santi Bose painting, “The White Room.”  There are 21 books in this area.

428 + 21 = 449 total of books catalogued thus far

Books in this section include:  The Translator’s Diary, by Jon Pineda; The Art of the Novel, by Milan Kundera;  Another Kind of Paradise:  Short Stories From the New Asia-Pacific, edited by Trevor Carolan (Self’s story “Lizard” is in here);  Philippine Speculative Fiction IV:  Literature of the Fantastic, edited by Dean Francis Alfar and Nikki Alfar (Among the authors:  Maryanne Moll, Charles Tan, Apol Lejano-Massebieau);  Against Forgetting:  Twentieth Century Poetry of Witness, edited by Carolyn Forché;  Palayok, by Doreen Fernandez; My Shining Archipelago:  Poems by Talvikki Ansel

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

Amazing Life

Self knows the titles of her blog posts are getting more and more cryptic.  Oh well!  Life IS amazing.  What else can she say?

After dinner, she pulled down a book from one of son’s bookshelves.  Ah!  Winterbirth, the book she got for son from that Edinburgh bookstore, Transreal Fiction.  If she’s not mistaken, it was a signed copy.  Quick check of the title page:  yes!  There is author Brian Ruckley’s signature.  Self remembers asking the bookseller to recommend a book by the “best young science fiction writer in Scotland today,” and he took quite a long time before recommending Ruckley.

Winterbirth is almost 600 pages:  son should thank his lucky stars, she had to leave a lot of her odds and ends behind, because her suitcase was too full.  But this book she could not leave.  And in fact, when son visited earlier this year, self found she couldn’t actually part with the book, not until she had read it.  And son said it was OK.  Because he has so many other things on his mind!  He’d probably have gotten to the book five years from now!

Self now opens the book to the preface:

They say the world has fallen from its former state.

WOW!  Is she glad she kept the book!

Changing gears, today self had her “pre-op” appointment with an oral surgeon.  In little more than a week, she will be having yet another gruesome dental surgery.  In the last decade, she has spent thousands and thousands of dollars on every possible thing:  all for the sake of saving her teeth, which are just bad.

She used to have excellent teeth, until she got to the States and had sole fruit of her loins.  Then, all hell broke loose.  Inside her mouth, that is.

American candy didn’t help, either.

In a little over a week, self is finally biting the bullet and going for an implant.  She’s missed the tooth for about 15 years, why’d she wait so long to have an implant?  Because an implant costs twice as much as a crown, that’s why!

Anyhoo, it turned out to be a rather routine affair:  self was disappointed.  A dental assistant went over the procedure, and it seemed fairly cut and dried.  “There might be swelling and some bruising,” the dental assistant told her.  Oh!  Self said she knew what that was like.  Why, just last month, she had a humongous black eye, and a swollen eyelid, and a lump on her right frontal lobe, and it was three weeks before the last bruises faded.  Even now, when self examines her face in the mirror, she thinks her right cheek is just a shade darker than her left.  Because of course the black eye was on the right side of her face.  And now, when she has had trouble sleeping, the shadows on the right side of her face are blue-grey, almost like the black eye she had in October.

Let’s see, what did the dental assistant say?  For a week, she should eat only soft food like yogurt and bananas.  No extraordinarily hot or cold food, either.  Which means:  no soup (unless cold, like gazpacho), and no ice cream (Boo).

Tomorrow self is going to see Niece G.  At last!  She’s really missed her.  She used to see her much more, but nowadays self’s schedule is very hectic.

We are going to something in the consulate.  Niece G asks if there will be food.  “Of course!” self assures her.  “This is a Filipino reading!  There has to be food!”

It will be one heck of a long drive to the City, and in the last few years self’s nerves (when she drives) are extremely bad.  Honestly, there have been times when self steps on the brakes in the middle of an intersection, and Niece G has to yell in her ear:  GO, TITA!  GOOOO!!!  STEP ON IT!

But that adventure will have to wait until tomorrow.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

“Isa” : Seascape, Poem, Story

The Sea in the Netherlands near Amsterdam (Photo by self, snapped while balancing on a wobbly bike)

Water is H2O,
hydrogen two parts,
oxygen one,
but there is also that third thing,
that makes it water
and nobody knows what that is.

– D. H. Lawrence

*          *          *

An excerpt from self’s short story, “Isa” (from the collection The Lost Language, published in the Philippines by Anvil Press, 2009.  Also published in Rogue, the Bacolod issue, April 2009):

Remember the names of the fishes and birds.  Remember the beings of the sea, the beings of the air.  Remember how you fell asleep each night, listening to your mother’s crooning and to the sound of the waves.

At first, there was a way to walk on the ground between the houses.  But gradually the water rose and that was when we began to use the rope bridges.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

“Thing”: Landscape by Stella, Story by Marianne

Plankton wakes me one morning.  Look, he says.

I don’t have to look.  I know because there is a feeling I have that the world is gone.  That where Caesar has been is just space wrapped in hair, skin and bones.

–  from “Thing,” in New Orleans Review, Volume 38.1, 2012

The Stella Kalaw Landscape (like no other)

Extinction: Landscape by Stella, Story by Marianne

Landscape by Stella K

That’s not really the title of the photograph, but Stella agreed to send self a copy of the photo, so that she could feature it on this blog.

And here’s a story from self’s collection Mayor of the Roses:

Extinction

They knew about shade but they had forgotten about the particular shadows made by leaves and branches.  I felt it was important to expand their knowledge in this direction.  They were disbelieving when I told them about tree roots, how they snake across the soil, looking for water.  Perhaps they confused my descriptions of roots with some malignant form of animal life.  Their eyes, still and dark, like pools, gazed out at me, expressionless.

A long time ago, the people of P had put their history down on the bark of trees.  They had used leaves as books, and reeds as pens to scratch their flowing script.  Since the trees have expired, these people have lost their history.

I thought I felt nothing for the place but later, when I was back home, I missed certain things:  the dry soil, the blank, expressionless faces of the people.  And I made a list.  A list of remembered things.  I put the list away in a safe place.

About Stella:  Self first met Stella through the kind auspices of Dear Departed Doreen Fernandez.  Stella’s picture of self is the one on the back cover of Mayor of the Roses.  Here are some things about Stella that self only discovered today, when she read the “About” section of Stella’s blog:

  • She only has one good eye.  (reminiscent of the photographer who took those iconic nude shots of Marilyn Monroe, two days before her suicide.  Self knows because his photographs of Marilyn were featured in a recent issue of Vanity Fair.  Self forgets his name.  Lawrence something?)
  • She shoots with a Hasselblad (This self knew)
  • Someone in Senegal once mistook her for Jackie Chan.
  • She writes.  Evocatively.
  • She once had a bit part in a Philippine horror film.
  • She is on a vegan health-food kick and so far self has proved immune to her example because, just 15 minutes ago, self scarfed down five caramel salt macarons from fave Redwood City bakery, Pampelmousse.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

Net Round-Up, 2nd Tuesday of December 2011

Today, self was at the Elizabeth Gamble Garden in downtown Palo Alto.  It’s been perhaps a decade since self was last here, even though the garden is only a few miles from her house.  In contrast to how things appear when self visits her home country, the Gamble Garden seems to have grown.  Like the universe, everything seems bigger and wider:  the trees, the pathways, even the house itself.

When she got home, she walked The Ancient One.  A lady stopped to pet the poor ol’ dog, who seemed hardly to notice, so intent was she on maintaining forward motion (all her bones creaking, such are the vicissitudes of great age)

Self pulled herself together today and got something going into the crockpot this morning.  So by the time she stepped back in the house, the kitchen smelled heavenly (She made chili with sausages, ham, lentils and white beans, with plenty of chopped garlic and onions.  And some cayenne pepper.  Come to think of it, it’s more potaje than chili)

Then she decided to check out a few of her favorite sites.

Kathleen’s latest post on True Love, Six Kids, and One Old House moved self to tears.  Happy, happy, happy 55th, Kathleen!  You’re as beautiful as ever and just the loveliest writer.

Used Furniture Review has “Arts and Literature From the Deep South:  Episode 1.1″ with Brian Oliu,  three poems by Joshua Young:  “Spotlight Center Stage – Sunday, 8:00 a.m.”;  “Enter Stage Right – The Preacher” ; and “Enter Stage Left – The Usual Suspects,” a very amusing story called “Instructions for Disposal of Dangerous Materials” by Gerri Brightwell, and a story by Jacqueline Doyle called “You’re the One, Baby.”

Wag’s Revue still has The Music Issue (Issue 10).  Self loves, in addition to the pieces, the great cover of something that looks like Rodin’s The Thinker, only covered with green — fungus?  Moss?  Clover?

The latest in “Ask Alys” (Gardening Columnist for Britain’s The Guardian) answers the question:  “Why are my bramley apples pitted with brown spots and inedible?”  The question just before that was:  “Which cherry plum should I plant?”

Café Irreal’s Issue Forty has a very interesting story by Steve Toase:  “The first tree I saw hitchhiking I nearly didn’t stop.  Not out of prejudice, you understand, but surprise.  I pulled onto the hard shoulder and reversed.”

Eric D. Snider has reviews of “New Year’s Eve” (D- :  And to think self nearly saw this movie yesterday!), “Shame” (in which Michael Fassbender plays a sex addict.  Self would have been more interested if he had played a shoe addict.  Or something less mainstream.  Sex addicts are everywhere, you don’t even have to look like Michael Fassbender to be a sex addict.  You can be gross-looking and still like to have sex.  In fact, if you’re gross-looking, it makes it more interesting if you’re also a sex addict.), “Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy” (Alas, this one only merits a C+ from Mr. Snider), and “Hugo” (B+)

Fawlt Magazine has not updated in ages and ages.

Home Is Where the Boat Is has a sumptuous holiday table setting:  absolutely gorgeous:  the plates, the bright red tablecloth, the Christmas greenery, the pine cones.  And close-ups of a book called How To Find Flower Fairies.

On The Writing Disorder, Marko Fong has a wonderful short story, “The Art of Peace,” from his collection Inventing China, “which looks at various ways overseas Chinese created their own notions of Chinese identity and culture.”  Part 1 (“Salt and Porcelain”) begins:  “Thanks to my grandmother, I may be the only person who knows the real origin of General Mo’s chicken.  Even though I’m not much of a cook, I may also be the only person who knows the proper recipe for the popular dish that combines boneless balls of chicken with a hot sweet sauce.”

*          *          *          *          *

Don’t forget to buy a book from our very own Arkipelago Books in the Bayanihan Community Center on Sixth and Mission!  This bookstore is a real gem.  Marie Romero keeps it going on sheer grit.  It’s as iconic to the San Francisco Filipino community as St. Mark’s Bookshop is to the New York literary community.  Among the books you can order:  Zack Linmark’s excellent Leche, Theodore S. Gonzalves’s Images of America:  Filipinos in Hawai’i, Jessica Hagedorn’s latest, Toxicology, and Remembering Rizal, an anthology of poetry, plays, essays and artwork on the 150th anniversary of Jose Rizal’s birth, edited by Edwin Lozada.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

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