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Kanlaon

  • Seattle 2014

    February 26th, 2014

    The minute she gets back to the Bay Area, she’s going to have her MacBook Air’s keyboard fixed.

    During one sleepless night last year, she spilled strawberry jam on her keyboard.  She was trying to make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but the knife slipped out of the jam jar, and fell on her keyboard.  Ever since, the keyboard’s stuck.  She can just manage to get some keys to register, but only if she presses with all her might.

    It is a beautiful day.  The last time self was in Seattle was 2007.  She was hosted, so she was picked up from the airport, and she was a guest in the home of Maria Batayola.

    This is a completely different kind of trip.  She’s staying in a hotel.

    The people on the plane were none too friendly.  Everyone was absorbed in reading the papers or reading their iPads.  They also looked very, very white.  And healthy, in that quintessential American way. Great hair, great teeth.  Neat clothing.  The woman seated next to self, who never cracked a smile in her direction, had a Bally tote.

    Seattle’s edges are hard and bright.  The streets are surprisingly empty.  Puget Sound, though, is huge:  about 10x the width of San Francisco Bay.  The ferry boats are enormous, they remind her of cruise ships.  The snow-capped mountains glint in the sun.  Just looking at them makes self feel cold.  Self wonders how much a ferry ride costs.  She’d love to explore Bainbridge Island, which she heard has cute little art galleries and coffee shops.

    During what was left of today, self decided to walk.  She wound up in Pioneer Square.  The streets were really, really empty, except for a park with a giant chessboard where a young woman was trying to move the chess pieces and some old men were teasing her in a lighthearted way.  Birds flew among the trees.  There were Indian totems off to the side.

    She walked some more.  She found a bookstore:

    The Globe, a bookstore near Pioneer Park
    The Globe, a bookstore near Pioneer Square
    In the bookstore loft, self found a very cozy reading nook.
    In the bookstore loft, self found a very cozy reading nook.

    She also found a bustling bakery near a park:

    Grand Central Baking Company, next to Occidental Park
    Grand Central Baking Company, next to Occidental Park
    Triple-Chocolate Cookie from Grand Central Baking Company:  $1.95, and worth every penny
    Triple-Chocolate Cookie from Grand Central Baking Company: $1.95, and worth every penny

    That triple-chocolate cookie was just about the best cookie she’s ever tasted.

    Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

  • Aspiration

    October 15th, 2013

    Noun:  Goal; desire; something one wishes to achieve.

    e.g. Marco, whose lifelong aspiration was to be the number one seat violinist in the orchestra, was left thinking only about sabotage when it was announced the young prodigy would be assuming the premiere position.

    Bella the Beagle, aka “The Ancient One”, who entered our lives in 1996 at six months of age, died a few hours before self’s plane arrived from the Philippines, in the afternoon of Monday, Oct. 14. The Man found her when he got home from work, a little before five.  She was still warm.  It seemed she had died peacefully, lying in the warm sun on the deck.

    Oh, woe!

    Self was quite overcome to think she had missed seeing Bella alive, by just a few hours.

    Self’s other beagle, Gracie, died in April 2011, so Bella had two more happy years with us.  When Gracie was alive, she was completely cowed and submissive.  When Gracie passed away, she began to get a little assertiveness back (We adopted Gracie when Bella was about four years old, and Gracie was far more rambunctious, and completely stole the show).

    The Ancient One Peruses the Backyard.  A year ago, self predicted 2011 would be her last Christmas.  As it turned out, self was too much of a pessimist.
    The Ancient One Peruses the Backyard.  Self predicted 2011 would be her last Christmas. As it turned out, self was too much of a pessimist.

    Bella the Beagle:  Sept. 30, 1995 to Oct. 14, 2013

    Self’s eyes are pretty swollen right now.  It was an exhausting trip. Started 3:50 pm in Bacolod, included a five-hour layover in Manila which stretched to 8 hours, and then a 12-hour flight.  She got in at 11 p.m.  The Man has to wake up at 5 a.m. to get to work.

    But when she was reading her e-mail, she saw a letter from Waccamaw accepting her story “Bridging.”  This was a story she wrote while in Hawthornden, June 2012.  Towards the end of the month, she and the other writers decided to have an informal reading of works-in-progress.  The story self read was “Bridging.”  It was only about 8 pages at the time; in August, when she last worked on it and sent it out, it had grown to 17 pages.

    Totaling the time it took from the story’s inception to its final version, June 2012 to October 2013, it took only about 16 months.  She’s had stories that she works on for six, seven years before they get picked up.  Such a one was “Silence,” which was published long ago in The Threepenny Review, and was shortlisted for the O. Henry Literature Prize.

    “Bridging” will appear in Waccamaw‘s forthcoming issue (going live October 31).

    It’s only her 3rd acceptance of 2013.

    Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

  • Glory Be! Self Has Finally Seen “Skyfall”!

    November 13th, 2012
    The screen is from Cebu. Self found it in the Redwood City World Market.

    Self is back in the suburban anomie of Redwood City, California.  The city where, despite the name, there are no redwoods.  Where teen-agers in scruffy jeans slouch through Sequoia Station.  Where the local See’s store knows just exactly how many peanut butter patties self limits herself to buying per week.  Where every day self is reminded that she does not know how to cook a turkey.  Where there are movies galore!

    Oh San Francisco Bay Area, the nights have never seemed so cold, especially when juxtaposed against the velvety heat of Bacolod City.

    Here are a few of the momentous decisions self must make within the week:

    • Will she renew her membership to the Fine Arts Museums of San Francisco for next year?
    • Will she give anyone a gift subscription to the New York Review of Books?
    • Will she agree to teach two back-to-back quarters for UCLA Extension’s Writers Program?
    • Can she finish her novel in time to submit to various contests?
    • Is Argo a lock for Best Picture and Best Director Oscar nominations?
    • Will she have time to see The Late Quartet this week?
    • Should she get take-out from Su Hong?
    • When does Justified Season 4 start?
    • Who did she leave off her Christmas card list last year?

    Self saw “Skyfall.”  It was amazing.  The fight sequences were so beautiful, especially one near the end where you forget it’s Daniel Craig and just think Bond!  Bond!  Bond!  He and his opponent appear in silhouette against a background of the most planchent midnight blue.  Adele sings the theme song.  “Q” is played by a wonderful, skinny whippet of an actor with geek glasses, finely sculpted cheek bones, an air of great chagrin, and dark, muppet hair.  SPOILER ALERT:  Judi Dench’s M floats serenely out of the scene, but not before she gets to say, “To hell with dignity!” Self will miss the sardonic twist Daniel Craig gave to the response, “Yes, mum.”  Dench’s place is taken by Ralph Fiennes’ Mallory.  There is a new regular, a woman with a superb bod, whose name just happens to be Eve Moneypenny.  And oh, what can self say about Javier Bardem?  When he has bad hair, he is just the most cheeky kind of villain!  Self thinks the scene where he prissily approaches Bond, as if on tiptoe, as if disregarding completely the fact that Bond is roped to a chair, as if he is addressing an equal, is such a madcap, funny/poignant/scary scene.  Bardem in the flesh (like in those tabloid pics with Penelope Cruz) is very handsome, but when he has bad hair (and not only is his hair bad here, it also happens to be blonde), his eyes bug out accordingly, and he looks like a goldfish.  A malevolent goldfish.  With rotting teeth.  In one scene, self swears one can practically smell the rot.  At the end, the packed moviehouse (Century 20, downtown Redwood City) clapped.  For once, self joined in the accolades.  She has never clapped before, not even at the end of Inception, when the audience engaged in similar effusions of praise.  Self must admit, she didn’t like Sam Mendes when Kate Winslet left him because of allegations he had fallen in love with Rebecca Hall.  But with this movie, he has redeemed himself.

    Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

  • Weekend Status Report (Monday, 7 May 2012)

    May 7th, 2012

    In a little while, self plans to:

    1. Drop off a bag of used clothing at Goodwill on Santa Cruz Avenue
    2. Mail something to The Antioch Review (Hope springs eternal), and
    3. Pick up clothes from the dry-cleaners.

    Why she feels the urge to get all of these things done right now, when she has to return to Menlo Park later anyway, to see her dentist, is really mysterious, but self never questions the decisions she makes when she is just hoppin’ full of energy!  Like, right now!

    Let’s see, what did self do last weekend (aside from purchasing a really fab pair of shell earrings from the Mountain View Art & Wine Festival)?

    • Developed a fancy for the Reading Room at The Threepenny Review website.  Even though self has had nothing accepted by The Threepenny Review in the last decade, she still thinks this literary magazine is one of the best.
    • She saw the new Jason Statham movie, “Safe” (Grrreat.  No review necessary:  we all know what a successful Jason Statham movie is like.  There will be plenty of bang-bang and also the obligatory emotional low, to be followed by the kick-butt high!  Result:  Total Viewer Contentment and Satisfaction)
    • She got a form rejection (in her e-mail) from Ninth Letter (It feels like she’s been trying to get into this one forever).
    • She got an SASE (another form rejection) from American Literary Review.
    • She wrote out a check to send to Calyx.
    • She walked The Ancient One, who seemed quite spry and happy.
    • She spoke to a neighbor on the corner about his flowers.
    • She saw another ladybug in her garden (and four long, slimy things — with legs —  that she determined to be some kind of reptile:  lizards, probably)
    • Finished off a whole bottle of Vlasic Sweet Gherkins —  in two days.  Even the husband felt compelled to make a remark.

    All in all, it was quite a successful weekend.

    Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

  • The Thanksgiving (2011) Post

    November 24th, 2011

    And now, let us give thanks for:

    • children (Self has a wonderful son, dear blog readers!)

    Thoughts on the year about to end:

    2011 was the year when Manang Nena, the bravest, kindest soul self has known, the one who started self on the Bacolod odyssey, passed away.  Also the year when self lost Gracie.  But also the year when self got her novella accepted for publication (next year).  Also when she got pieces published in:

    • Our Own Voice
    • Storysouth
    • The Writing Disorder

    And when she got pieces accepted by:  the Asian American Literary Review, Wigleaf, Prism International, Phoebe and Used Furniture Review

    And when self started writing science fiction in earnest (“Computational Outcomes,” “Thing,” and many other short pieces)

    And when she started getting to know Bacolod.  She saw Kanlaon up close.  She went to Mambucal (Thanks, dearest cousins, for taking her!).  She saw the La Carlota Sugar Central, once in July and again in September.  She went to Don Salvador Benedicto.  She went to Victorias.  She went on her first RORO ride (to Iloilo).  And she learned what “ratoon” is.

    And she discovered Antonio Muñoz Molina.  And Bernhard Schlink.  And Edith Wharton.  And Alan Moorehead.  And Patrick Leigh Fermor.  Karin Fossum became self’s new Scandinavian mystery writer of choice (Self loved Fossum’s The Indian Bride)

    In May, self flew to New York to watch a play by fellow Stanford Creative Writing Program fellow Penny Jackson.  And it was a very, very good play.  In addition, self got nephew William (who’s now in medical school in Washington University in St. Louis) to accompany her to the Smyth Hotel for Penny’s birthday party.

    She saw dear good friends, in Manila and elsewhere.

    She met a niece at the Ferry Building.

    She loves The Ancient One, who is the best 16-year-old beagle in the entire world.

    She signed books at the Manila International Book Festival, in September, and bumped into Charles Tan.

    She finally visited the Science Fiction bookstore, Borderlands, which Niece G had been telling her about for ages.

    She saw more of Zack, Liza Erpelo, and Lillian.

    She started having regular lunches with her old friend, the Program Administrator at Stanford’s East Asian Studies department.

    She wrote more on that World War II novel (set in Bacolod).

    The apple tree bore a delicious harvest.

    She felt quite shaken by the passing of Steve Jobs.

    She celebrated her birthday with cousins in Bacolod.

    The 10th anniversary of 9/11 came and went.  Self was in Bacolod.  It barely registered, there.  (The world seems far away, in Bacolod.  That is why she loves it so)

    And here are the movies self watched this year that she particularly loved:

    • 50/50 and Joseph Gordon-Levitt had self crying buckets.
    • Cary Fukunaga brought sexy back to Jane Eyre.
    • Biutiful soared because of Javier Bardem.
    • Horrible Bosses had self laughing from beginning to end.
    • Margin Call was all about Zach Quinto, and besides self got to see brother-in-law for three seconds, towards the end of the movie.
    • Woody Allen’s Midnight in Paris made self notice Owen Wilson’s shambling walk. 
    • Rise of the Planet of the Apes had a strong, beating heart, thanks to James Franco, John Lithgow, Tom Felton (making the leap from Harry Potter to playing American:  congrats, Tom!) and Freida Pinto.  And let’s not forget Caesar the ape!  This was self’s favorite summer movie after Midnight in Paris.
    • The Debt showed that Sam Worthington can do drama.
    • Take Shelter made self realize that Jessica Chastain is quite an actress.  And Michael Shannon was very good, too.

    On TV, there was Mads Mikkelsen in “Valhalla Rising.”  There was more deliciousness from “The Good Wife.” Earlier in the year, there was “Justified Season 2.”  Steven Colbert, Jon Stewart and Saturday Night Live had self laughing all year.  Self caught several episodes of “Game of Thrones” while in L’Fisher Chalet!  It looked fantastic.

    She heard from Hawthornden!  After over a year!  And they extended to self an invitation to come sometime in 2012.  Which is a really spectacular development, dear blog readers.

    So many things to be thankful for, really!

    Stay tuned.

  • Absolutely Bursting With Lists Today (2nd Friday of October 2011)

    October 15th, 2011

    Today the weather was gorgeous, absolutely gorgeous.  Warm, for October.  The only person wearing a sweater was self.

    And, for the second time in less than a week, a black Pilot Precise V-7 Rolling Ball pen has flaked out on her.  First, one blew up all over her fingers while she was writing, and today another one dried up, just like that, even though she’d barely begun using it.

    What on earth is going on ???

    Today, self passed on the Occupy Wall Street excitement in San Mateo and instead buried herself in the Stanford library stacks.  Surprisingly, for such a gorgeous day, the stacks were full of students.  One blonde young man (dressed all in black) interrupted self to ask for directions about using the reference catalogue, apparently mistaking self for a librarian (Okey dokey, that is the last time self wears an all-brown outfit.  It may do wonders for Luisa Igloria, but for self it’s another matter entirely.  If dear blog readers are unable to fully grasp self’s import, please refer to Facebook Chat of a few days ago, regarding outfits worn by Mz. Luisa to the recently concluded Old Dominion U Literary Festival.)

    Self doesn’t know what made her get up and go to the Library.  Was it the weather?  Was it because she was tired of sitting at home and having Bella the beagle fart in her face?  Was she in need of some exercise (though reading a book in the Stanford stacks does not, technically, qualify as exercise)?  Was it because, hours earlier, she had just watched a real weeper (not in a bad way):  “50/50”?

    This movie was notable for

    • Featuring the first Seth Rogen performance self has liked since “Forty-Year-Old Virgin.”  He actually seemed to be playing a character, as opposed to just being Seth Rogen.
    • Being the first movie of 2011 that caused self to cry at the end.

    Honestly, self didn’t shed a single tear at the end of “The Debt,” even though the ending was so unutterably sad, and here she was at the end of “50/50”, weeping like she can’t remember doing at any movie since watching Eric Bana and Rachel McAdams in “The Time Traveler’s Wife.”  And this movie wasn’t even a rom-com.

    Self thinks that Joseph Gordon Levitt is an amazing actor who has really pulled off a serious career.  One had no right to expect anything like this of him after “Third Rock.”  Because he was so good in that sit-com, self means.  But, in a surprising career turn, he did a small indie film called “Mysterious Skin,” and she’s just about fallen in love with every character he’s played since then (with the exception of that Batman movie).

    There is one scene in “50/50,” close to the beginning, where he breaks the news about his cancer to Seth Rogen, and Seth Rogen blurts out the most thoughtlessly appalling things, and Gordon-Levitt just looks at him, simply looks at him.  And he doesn’t blink or say anything or even have to move a muscle.  The camera stays on his face, stays on his face, and we’re there.  We’re so there.  We’re in that awful situation where you are you (the victim, the cancer-sufferer) and everyone else is Seth Rogen:  thoughtless, tactless, and also bursting with vigor and, most unbearable of all,  cancer-free.

    Anyhoo, perhaps as a result of watching this movie, self was in a very “Gather-ye-rosebuds-while-ye-may” mood, which translated to — HA HA HA —  going to the Stanford Library Stacks.

    As she was leaving the stacks in a state of intellectual stupefaction, she noticed how many young people were about.  These were not tour groups of blasé high schoolers being herded about by a Stanford undergrad —  no, these were people who were presumably already ensconced in the hallowed halls of Wilbur (exclusively for freshmen) or Mirrielees or one of the row houses.  They were uniformly clad in jeans, and the girls were laughing, and some bikers stopped very courteously so that self could cross the street without having to run and dodge, and she thought:  What nice young people! Also, self had this secondary thought:  Stanford students are certainly improving in the looks department! Yes, dear blog readers, there was a time when Stanford was known for its dearth of good-looking students (though Jennifer Connelly did graduate from here, with a degree in English), and if son had a choice today between Stanford or UCLA or any other school, implementing his yardstick of “school of choice” (which was:  Which campus has the prettiest girls?), honestly he would never have picked Stanford.  But that’s neither here nor there.

    When self got home, she immediately began to water and then she turned on the TV, and then she saw that the “Occupy Wall Street” demonstrators in New York had had some kind of tussle with police (And, dear blog readers, take it from self:  One never wants to tussle with a New York City policeman.  Because they are about three times the size of Redwood City policemen.  Not only that, their stares could freeze your blood.  One almost hit Dearest Mum and self when we were crossing the street near the UN, because unbeknownst to us Ahmadinajab had just entered the vicinity to deliver an address.  Really, unless there were signs posted, saying:  No one is allowed to cross First Avenue while Ahmadinajab is in the UN,  she doesn’t see why the man in the police car almost ran down Dearest Mum and self.  Self feels sure that if Penny had been with us, she would have yelled at the policeman, the way only a New Yorker can yell.)

    Anyhoo, there was quite a to-do in New York, and thankfully a policeman was only caught slugging one person (Self thinks it was a woman dressed in a green T-shirt).

    OMG, self almost forgot!  Self caught a preview of a new Sam Worthington movie, “Man on a Ledge,” which was noteworthy because:

    • It proves that Sam Worthington, even with longer, 70s-style locks, is still cute.
    • It confirms that Dear Sam has more facial expressions than anyone thought he was capable of:  at least, there were at least three or four different ones on display in this preview.
    • Jamie Bell is also in this movie.  Now, whenever self sees Jamie Bell in a movie, no matter what, self says to herself:  This is a movie I’ve simply got to see!

    Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

  • Embarrassment of Riches: NYTBR, 18 September 2011

    October 5th, 2011

    Here, dear blog readers, are the reviews self feels like saving after perusing the 18 September 2011 issue of The New York Times Book Review.  There are quite a number!

    1. Susann Cokal’s review of Leah Hager Cohen’s fourth novel, The Grief of (more…)
  • Beauties at the Smyth Hotel, This Evening

    May 12th, 2011

    This evening, self attended Penny’s birthday party at Plein Sud, in the Smyth Hotel at Broadway and Chambers.  Penny’s husband (more…)

  • A Cold!

    May 11th, 2011

    Bacolod languor seems to have infected self’s bones:  this trip, she is just not in the mood to rush around seeing plays or visiting museums.  If she does nothing else than finish reading the two books she brought with her (Laurence Bergreen’s Marco Polo:  From Venice to Xanadu, which she actually managed to finish late last night; and Hunter S. Thompson’s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, (whose first 20 or so pages are killing her, just killing her!  Thompson is hilarious!), she will consider the time well-spent.

    Yesterday was warm (like summer) on the streets of Manhattan.  Today, it seemed as though  time had speeded up, skipped through summer, and gone into fall.  Because self was under the mistaken impression that today’s weather would be similar to yesterday’s, she left the apartment in nothing but a thin T-shirt, slacks, and sandals.  And at the first blast of that chill wind —  achoo!  Achoo and achoo and achoo!  Neither does it help that almost every other person in the subway seems to be sniffling.  Today she sat in a subway car that aimed a positively Arctic blast of cold air directly at the top of her head.  She wanted to move but that would mean giving up her seat and standing the rest of the way, and since her destination was at least 50 blocks away, self decided to endure the chill air and the inevitable cold (Anything for a subway seat!  Anything!)

    Every trip to the Splendid City is, of course, different, depending on who self meets or what serendipitous occasions come self’s way.  Here are a few things self has noticed since arriving, late Monday night:

    Discovery # 1:  New York is always warm, at least on the 9th floor.

    There are two weather zones:  the apartment, and the street.  In the apartment, no matter what the the weather is outside, it is always warm.  Which is why self tends to think of New York (even in November) as warm, like a cocoon.  So different from California where, to conserve money, hubby never wants to turn on the heater, even in the winter.  So, naturally, when she is back home, she spends most of the time bundled up in multiple sweaters, as long as she is inside the house.  Which then makes her think:  California is cold!  And New York is warm!

    Discovery # 2:   New York (or is it the apartment; or is it the Upper East Side) is positively, amazingly soporific.

    Back home in California, she never naps.  Here, the minute she sets foot in the apartment, her eyelids start to droop, and next thing you know, she is dozing.  She even has dreams.  This happened to her yesterday, while she waited for brother-in-law to return home from the office.  She actually fell asleep, had a dream, and when she awoke, brother-in-law was already in the kitchen, putting dinner on the table.

    Discovery 3:  Japanese restaurants near St. Mark’s Place have the best desserts.

    She has discovered the most fabulous desserts, all from hanging out yesterday with Luis Francia and adorable Midori.  In a bakery just around the corner from St. Mark’s Bookshop (Panya, on Stuyvesant b/w 8th and 9th)  she tried green tea tiramisu.   She had it with a steaming glass of Yuzu tea, and the tea was surprisingly sweet but very, very good.  Seated at the table next to hers was a man who was suffering from terrible allergies.  At least, that was what he was telling a friend.  And he went to Panya because, while searching the web for a solution to his allergy problem —  that’s what the web does to us; it turns us all into persistent self-medicators —  he read somewhere that horseradish would help, and he thought:  horseradish = wasabi = Japanese food = Panya on Stuyvesant.  Is that not a really neat process of deduction?

    Another place that has really good desserts is Cha’an on 9th.  Here, Midori had yogurt sorbet with melon and grapefruit (Yum Yum!).  A film-maker friend of hers had chocolate soufflé with raspberry sauce, another yummy concoction.

    Discovery # 4:  Nephew has agreed to accompany self to Penny’s birthday party tonight, somewhere in Tribeca.  Wait, that’s not a discovery, that’s a fact.  Well, the discovery is that she invited him and didn’t think he would agree, but he did!

    Penny’s birthday party is the whole reason self is here.  It’s being held in Plein Sud, in The Smyth Hotel on Broadway and Chambers.  Self thinks it is the most fantastic stroke of luck that nephew William is around, for she finds taking the subway a little iff-y, when it’s late at night.  But tonight she will not have that problem, for she will be with nephew (He is going off to Washington University, to begin Medical School, in August).  Thank God for niece G in San Francisco and nephews in New York!

    Discovery # 5:  Manicures on the upper east side cost as much as they do in Redwood City, CA.

    In anticipation of Penny’s fab party, self decided to get a manicure, her first in many weeks.  So she walked down Lexington and found a place that was open.  And self discovered that manicures here cost exactly the same as they do in Redwood City, CA, and the pedicures are about $10 less.  Not only that, the woman applied all kinds of bases and primers to self’s nails before applying the polish.  Then she sprayed self’s nails with something.  The result:  self’s nails look as hard and polished as a Japanese lacquer box.  Color she chose this time:  neon pink (The last manicure color self chose was blue, which was an absolute hit with her students, the check-out girl at Safeway, Lillian H, you name it.  Zack even sent self a text that said:  “I’m with Lillian.  She says hello to you and your blue nails.” —  !!!)

    Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

  • Brooklyn Academy of Music’s KING LEAR Sold Out

    April 26th, 2011

    Self is going to be back in the Splendid City for something like four days, in early May.

    She’s there to help Penny celebrate a spectacular birthday, and also to see the premiere of Penny’s new play, “Booze in the Boroughs” at Joria Productions on 34th Street.  It opens on Friday, May 13.

    Penny recommended “Jerusalem” as another play self has to catch while she’s in New York.  Penny knows how to pick her plays, for the last one she picked, “Red,” with Alfred Molina as Mark Rothko and a young man named Eddie Redmayne playing his assistant, was truly the highlight of last year (not counting, of course, the trips to the Philippines).

    Self inquired of her brother-in-law whether he would like to see “Jerusalem,” but he can’t since he has to work and the only time self has free is on weeknights.  “It’s three hours long,” he told self.

    He had another play recommendation, Tom Stoppard’s “Arcadia.” According to brother-in-law, it is the best play on Broadway right now.  And brother-in-law knows whereof he speaks:  he absolutely loves plays and watches at every opportunity.  He has brought his kids to see so many plays that they know everything that has been on Broadway in the last 20 years.

    But the production self really longs to see is the “King Lear” at the Brooklyn Academy of Music.  That one stars Derek Jacobi.  Self looked up the BAM Box Office tonight, and was completley dismayed to read:  VERY LIMITED AVAILABILITY.

    Under “Ticket Status,” there is this message:

    Tickets to King Lear are currently unavailable to the general public due to popular demand.  A limited number of front orchestra seats are available to Friends of BAM at the Benefactor level ($1,000) and above for select performances.  To become a Benefactor, call …

    Aaargh!

    Let’s see, what else happened today?  She went to the Redwood City Library and put a hold on Mark Twain’s Roughing It.  She got a call from Edwin Lozada, who heads PAWAINC (Philippine American Writers and Artists, Inc)  He reminded self that she had agreed to read with three young poets this Sunday, May 1, at the San Lorenzo Public Library.  Self tried her best to weasel out of it by telling Edwin she was “retired.”  But he said, come on, the editor of the Walang Hiya anthology would do it, but she can’t because she is signing books at the LA Festival of Books this weekend.

    Oh, so self is the stand-in?  Self is soooo flattered!

    Since it’s been so long since self’s had a reading (in the United States), she is experiencing twinges of anxiety.  Could Edwin please read for her?  She fears she doesn’t really have the necessary joi de vivre!  Or, rather, all the joi de vivre she has is reserved for blogging.

    Besides, she has a terrible crick in her neck.  And reading from a story will necessitate self looking down, and that will not be a good thing for anyone with neck or shoulder pain.  Especially for one who is also suffering from anxiety.

    Since Edwin is really so nice, he said OK, he would read her story for her.  Self can therefore sit in the audience, disguised in a wig and enormous glasses, sort of like Anna Wintour.  Or like Ruth Reichl, eminent food critic, when she goes to a restaurant and wants to remain incognito.

    So all self has to do is pick a story for Edwin to read.

    Stay tuned, dear blog readers.  Stay tuned.

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