the memory of you
is still swimming in my head
like a sublime goldfish
in the universe that is my pond
ever present in my mind
the vision of you
coming toward my presence
with a quiet confidence
that I could almost taste in my mouth
rolls in my tongue
like bitter sweet coffee
you shake my hand
and greet me
with your mild humor
like it was the last
but for me
it was a first
...
photo credit: badongski
The streets are quiet tonight. I can even hear the quiet under the music playing in my digital player. I’ve been running for over 30 minutes and I don’t feel like stopping, but I know that I have to stop in a while. Just a few more meters, I tell myself. Forget the rain, forget the strain in my legs. I just need to stretch it out a little for just a few more meters and then I’m good.
The light drizzle, softly touches my skin and blends with my salty perspiration. I quicken my pace a little as the rain begins to build momentum. I am practically running in the middle of the street. Not a lot of cars tonight. only a lonesome sedan or taxi and a desolate jeepney every twenty paces.
I stop for a quick breath in a street corner, in front of a closed restaurant. I bend a little just to so that I would not lose balance. My tank top is drenched with the salt of my fluids and the rain. I lick my lips to rid of the accumulated sweat. They are very salty.
I need to sit down so I sit by the curb to rest a little. I turn off my digital player and just sat by the curb watching some people and cars pass by. There were people passing by, mostly hobos and the occasional hooker and hustler. The hobos stare at me as they push their cart pass me, while the hookers and hustlers give me the sideward glance. Nobody bothered me though. They probably thought I just another crazy person running in an ungodly hour like tonight. I try to read each of their minds when they look at me as they pass me by. I don’t have the powers to do it but I try all the same. I wonder what they were thinking. They prolly thought I was some pervert looking for a trick, or some killer looking for a kill, or some runner practicing for an upcoming marathon, or probably just a nobody trying to get noticed. Who knows…
As I take the night’s silence, I notice something different tonight. The lit candles outside the doorsteps. In fact there was one a few meters away right beside where I was sitting. I remember now. I though IU have forgotten because I slept most of the day. It’s the First of November – the Feast of All Saints. Tomorrow would be the the Feast of All Souls.
In the Christian Tradition, November first is for the commemoration of all the holy men and women who have dedicated themselves in the service of Christianity, The Feast of All Saints. The rest of the departed are remembered the day after. In this country, people forego the commemoration of the saints and go right to remembering their dearly departed. I think that it is just fitting. Why would one bother remembering someone he does not know, who has no relevance or significance in his life? I am not one for holidays. I enjoy them because I get to not work. I slept most of the day because I figured that this was the only day that I get to sleep in. Fuck’em saints and let me sleep a little. I’m pretty sure they’d understand.
Today is a national holiday. People go in throngs to the cemeteries and columbaries and ossuaries of this country to clean their departed’s tombs and light candles and pray and even sing karaoke (they do, and this is how we roll in the Islands).
The irony of the matter is, I never went to the cemetery today. Reason is, I didn’t want to. Not just because I slept most of the day, but mostly because I didn’t see the point of going just because it was a day to commemorate dead people, albeit it’s actually the day to commemorate holy Christian people.
I’m prolly making excuses to myself, being the asshole and cynic that I am. I look at the candles burning bright and I could smell the wax and burning wicks. Another hobo passes by and gives me an odd glance. He’s prolly wondering why I’m looking at the candles with such diligence of a schoolboy. He prolly thinks that I was going to steal them. He prolly went to the cemetery today. He prolly bought his own candles and matches. Or maybe he just borrowed some matches from another hobo.
I don’t get it sometimes. Why do we have to light candles in front of our doorsteps when we’ve already lit the candles in the cemetery. Would it make any difference if we place lit candles in both our dearly departed’s tomb and our doorsteps? In the the greater scheme of things, it probably serves a purpose. It probably gives us a certain level of comfort or security. That they may have passed but us left behind who bear the bittersweet yoke of remembering must assure ourselves more than the departed that we will never forget. This is probably the reason why nobody remembers the Feast of All Saints. Because in the microcosm of our own universes, they never mattered. They mattered to those that knew them. But then again, they are all dead. In the end, it’s all about the souls and not the saints. We are all sinners in our last breath.
I snap out of my reverie and stand up and start my run again.
……………..
I continue southwards. I go to the park where I usually run in the mornings. I haven’t ran in a long time. I have been mostly busy with work and trying to stay afloat. I’m sweating again and I like the feel of it. I try to quicken my pacing but gravity humbles me. The rain is building up a little and I do not mind. I cross the elliptical road, not bothering to use the pedestrian underpass since there are not a lot of vehicles tonight. Once on the other side I circle the park three or four times till my legs begin to give in.
There aren’t a lot of people in the park tonight. Most probably because of the holiday or more likely because it’s a Monday. There are couples in benches, kids playing frisbee in the grass, hookers and hustlers roaming around looking for their Johns and Johns looking for their tricks and security personnel trying on the look for the unsuspecting John caught in the act. The amusement park is closed. Some kiosks are open (prolly trying to break even or something). Nobody’s buying though. I only saw a couple of people running like me. It’s a bit of a relief to see that I am not the only one running at this time of night.
In the middle of the park is a monument, three obelisk like structures, with an angel holding a wreath sitting on each structure while appearing to be gazing downwards. The obelisks are connected by three horizontal beams that forms into a triangle if you stand at the center of the structure and look up. Below are three powerful headlights that change color every 3 minutes or so, each positioned on each obelisk which kind of gives the viewer an ominous and foreboding feeling when one actually gives time to look at it from below. It does look eerie if you sit on one the benches and try to look at one of the angels. I once did that in one of my morning runs and I could faintly see that the angels have their eyes closed or seem to be asleep. Sometimes I wonder if they ever open their eyes when people are not looking.
The monument is actually a mausoleum that houses the remains of a dead president. It is rather ironic to think that I did not want to go to the cemetery today and light candles and shit because I wanted to sleep in, only to end up running around a supersized tomb.
I stop at the foot of the monument, sweat and rain and all. I head for home as I take that realization as a sign. I maybe a cynic but I am a cynic that believes in palpable signs. A cynic still, albeit a superstitious one.
…………..
I took the jeepney going back. There were only a handful of us inside the jeepney. Most of them probably went to the cemetery as some were carrying a bag of candles and flowers and all. As I was going back to my apartment, I began thinking of the people I’ve lost that actually mattered to me in one way or another. They are not many, but there are some. And they mattered to me.
I came into my box apartment and took out some candles and incense which I “borrowed” from my upstairs neighbor. I lit them. I placed some candles in my room. I placed one outside my door by the stairwell. I placed the incense outside. Should I say a prayer? I don’t know. But instinct or something inside me told me to light the candles and burn incense. I do not know if it was guilt for not having gone to the cemetery or because this was a selfish act of self preservation or because of some divine or cosmic mandate that I should revere this day.
But “something” told me to light and burn tonight. I have never forgotten them, truth be told. They remain in my thoughts. They remain in certain places, in certain books, in certain food, in certain things, in certain films and songs, in similar situations, in other people. They remain. And I bear the bittersweet yoke of their memory not because I of tradition, but because they mattered. And to this sinner, they continue to be significant.
Yes I am alive. I know I haven't blogged in months and I have no excuse except I that I couldn't write. Yes, I have what you would call a Blogger's Block. I shall attempt to write something tonight, substantial or otherwise.
Here we go.
I am based in Beijing now. I've been here for almost a week. I finally was able to get out of THAT city. But don't tell anyone to what I am about to tel
l you, okay. I miss THAT city. Well, how can I not? I lived there for 7 years for crying out loud. Now, Beijing. The Big Smoke. The Big B. The Olympic City. Beijing is so hyped up right now that it could run for a democratic/republican/independent whatever nomination. It's polluted as f*ck. No wonder they call it the Big Smoke. The day I arrived in the Big B, I could not see a single edifice farther than 100 meters. And to top that, the weather was humid. And I was carrying 8 pieces of luggage (see picture below).
Anyways, I decided to move to Beijing NOT BECAUSE OF THE OLYMPICS, but because my clients are based here {yes I still whore my ass despite the fact that I am turning thirty this November} and its closer to almost {well, almost} any place in China, flights and trains and all.
I already have my flat set up. It's way smaller than the flat that I shared with Wendy – two bedroom, a tiny vestibule that can pass as a bathroom, a kitchen in which I cannot use the gas stove {building policy, but there is a friggen gas stove – they should've just removed the friggen gas stove if I am not allowed to use it}, AC{thank gawd}, cable {like actual cable with foreign channels} and the whole shebang. It's small, yeah, but I like it. Why you ask? I don't have neighbors in me building. All the other rooms are offices during the day and are empty as a Ben Affleck movie at night. You know what that means eh? ORGIES, PARTIES and SACRIFICIAL RITUALS! WOOOHOOO! I can't wait to run nekkid and drunk. My flat is fairly new as I can still smell the paint. I like the place. It's so obscure and I get some sort of privacy and autonomy. Opposite my building is a huge college dorm building for foreign students. There's a coffee shop at the ground floor called “College Perk” with the same logo as “Friends'” “Central Perk”, only that there's no Jennifer Aniston {Thank Gawd}and the coffee's just ok-ish but real expensivo.
I miss Changchun {me old city}. I miss the visibility and the way the locals speak Chinese. Beijingers have “R”'s in every word they say {well not every word but you can notice the r's every time they say something}. I miss my friends in Changchun. But I needed to leave, move on, explore new horizons and shit.
Anyways, I have almost finished unpacking and shit and my clothes smell like sawdust. Good thing they already delivered the washing machine when I got back from my run so I spent half of the day washing my clothes.
I miss this one guy. I ain't telling you his name. But yeah. I miss him. I miss taking showers with him. {Well he gives a good scrubbing, yo}.
^%^%^%
I've been watching a whole lotta TV lately {cable}. For the first time in years, I was able to sit in front of the tube for two whole hours. I couldn't believe CNN could be so riveting.
@$@$@$
My internet connection is super duper fast. Well, I paid for it. You know whut that means....... PORN.
&*&*&*&
I had a meeting yesterday with one of my clients. Let's just say that this particular client is not in my favorites list. I'll give you the cliffnotes version. Let's call this client Charlton Heston. Charlton Heston acquired my services for some yadi yadi. Since it was money, I took the job. You know me, I never say no to money {*Omar genuflects in front of Chairman Mao's smiling 100 Yuan face and makes the sign of the cross}. Wrong move. The client is bordering insufferable. Insufferable I tell ya. I tried almost every tactic in book short of blowing the dude. He's just not sure about what he wants and whenever he gets all rattled up he blames the help (moi). Sucks being a whore, but hey, its a living. A friend and colleague actually advised me to go slow and sorta lead him to a firm decision or some sort of commitment. I followed this friend's advice and guess whut? Didn't work.
Okay, So I was in a meeting with Charlton Heston. I haven't even sat down the chair and he starts barraging me with all these yadi yadi yadas that I am not doing what I am paid to do and shit and that he and his committee is not satisfied about the outcome and shit like that.
{Backgrounder, Charlton and his committee asked me to do a project and I agreed, provided they provided me the actual material for the project. Before I agreed, I briefed Charlton at what I actually do and the method and the means that I will employ should I accept this project. Charlton said he was ok with it. To clarify, I repeated to him him that this is what I do and these are were the means that I employ and shit. He said he was ok with it. So, I said yes. What went wrong then? The material came in trickles. The committee didn't like the means that I employ to do the project – It led me to the conclusion that Charlton didn't consult his committee or he didn't consult them that well since he was always flying from one city or country. Then he blames me. Of course, blame the help when the shit hits the fan}.
So he goes on and on about me not being prepared for the meeting and not even bothering to answer the issues he and his committee pointed out in his last email. I wanted to say something real bad ass at that moment but I held my tongue. Because if I did, it wouldn't have accomplished anything. I came meeting to do business and clearly, he wasn't. He was livid. But I was having a good day so I let him go on and on and on. Yap yap yap yap yap. I even acted contrite just to feed his ego. You see, Charlton was angry because I was incompetent and his justification was that I didn't came prepared for the meeting and that I don't even have a hard copy of his last email, which was the topic of the meeting that day. The clincher is, this whore did not receive any email from Charlton Heston. Old Charlie forgot to send me that one important email that would have justified his frustrations for the project by projecting the whole failure to the hired help because he was flying from one city to another. I knew there was no email from the start of the meeting. I wanted to point out that to old Charlie but he wouldn't let me. So, there I was channelling the beautitudes and trying to be meek and humble of heart.
Finally. I dropped the bomb. I asked Charlton, “What email are you talking about?” {with matching, meek and humble facial expressions plus eyelashes}. He says “What do you mean what email, THIS EMAIL {points to the paper his holding}.
MY MOMENT!
I looked at the paper. Looked at him and said, “I didn't receive this email. Your last email was dated XXXXX. I can check it now in my inbox if you wish. If I'm wrong, then I will apologize, my mistake.” He flinches. He runs to his laptop and checks his files. No email. Couldn't find anything. NADA.
Then he looks at me. I look at him {still with the meek and humble of heart expression and eyelashes and shit} and I said, “May I?”.
He steps aside. I open my Gmail account. I typed his name {I tag all my emails. THANK GOD FOR GMAIL}. All the emails he sent me appeared. All dated. But the one email that he was holding in his hand was no where to be found.
He is silent.
I look at him {still humble but with a slight smile forming, but hardly noticeable}
I cough a little.
I excused myself to the bathroom. Once I closed the bathroom door. I did my best Robert de Niro impersonation from Taxi Driver and I did my victory dance. I texted a friend and told him I'd buy him to have his 7 o'clock free because I was gonna buy him a drink that night.
I went out of the bathroom, and there is Charlton Heston, still checking for the lost email that was never sent.
I sat down beside him and I asked him if he could hand me the hard copy. He did. He's subdued now. More meek. More humble. Mind you, I could've shat on his face and repeat every insult he told me. But I didn't. I didn't come there for a pissing contest. I went to that meeting to do business and to actually salvage something of the project that he and his committee were royally fucking up. It was tempting to actually say a word or two, but the dude was already wounded. And besides, it's inhumane to kick a wounded dog.
He was trying to compose himself. He was rather red. I kept coughing small coughs because I was trying not to laugh. We continued the meeting. He wasn't being Moses now. We were doing business.
I learned a lot after that meeting. A lot.
But the most important lesson that I learned that day was about being quiet in a tumultuous situation. Silence is not a weakness. It's a sharp sword that cuts deep. Shallow waters make a lot of noise, but you don't find the treasure chests under shallow waters. You find the pirate booty in the quiet depths.
THAT AND USE GMAIL MOTHERFUCKERS!
GMAIL FUCKING ROCKS!
{By the way, I hope whoever is reading this shit that I am writing actually doesn't think that I am talking about sex! It's not. I actually do have a job}
I couldn't sleep last night, so I decided to follow my shadow. I walked and walked the streets and thought about the day's accomplishments, which mostly was sitting in front of my computer the whole day trying to beat a looming deadline. Things have been really hard for me lately. Good hard, but still hard nonetheless. But I am hopeful because I could always hope.
