A sentence

1.
I wrestle with a sentence I have yet to complete. This act of completing, the precise act of wrestling.

Like a moon in its halved phase, I know its full shape is already out there, only I can't see its other half yet.

2.
From The Art of Fielding by Chad Harbach:

It was easy enough to write a sentence, but if you were going to create a work of art, the way Melville had, each sentence needed to fit perfectly with the one that preceded it, and the unwritten one that would follow. And each of those sentences needed to square with the ones on either side, so that three became five and five became seven, seven became nine, and whichever sentence he was writing became the slender fulcrum on which the whole precarious edifice depended. That sentence could contain anything, anything, and so it promised the kind of absolute freedom that, to Affenlight's mind, belonged to the artist and the artist alone. And yet that sentence was also beholden to the book's very first one, and its last unwritten one, and every sentence in between. Every phrase, every word, exhausted him.

To always dress well

The Great Hall
Thomas Disch

You need only have noticed someone once,
and he will have an entree to your dreams
for the rest of your life. Or he may never
reappear at all. Who knows whose names
are there when the credits scroll? Who knows
how often one has passed one's someday spouse
before actually being introduced?
But as to dreams, just multiply
each single unnoticed noticing
by the number of sentient beings everywhere
you've ever lived and think how vast
an afterlife one stands to enjoy
in the world of dreams. That's one good reason
for dressing well (or at least memorably)
and making witty remarks: Strangers
will remember you. There are cats
who've been dead for decades who still
rest comfortably on cushions
in the dreamt apartments of those
who'd thought, “What a lovely cat.”
But alas for the creatures of darkness.
They lived unseen and will not live again.

The day had been a lesson in welcoming strangers and remaining your best self when no one is looking—because you are never certain that you are unseen.

In the morning I had an interview with Alex Carbonell of Studio Fix wherein he talked about the importance of performance backed up by appearance. The man spoke with that rare combination of humor, authority and ease. I was (I must admit, unexpectedly) charmed.

Then in the evening I met old friends and made new ones when I attended High Chair's book launch. I almost didn't go, considering my fears of the North (distance, traffic, crowd), but I sorely missed the company of friends and the company of poets. And I remembered vowing to stop being a recluse at the start of the year.

It was a great day, if only it weren't so short.

Paddle-happy

1. Last time I won a medal, I think I was still 4 feet tall.
2. I earned one again yesterday (along with 2 team mates) at the first Columbia Recyclable Regatta held at The Lighthouse Marina Resort in Subic Bay Freeport Zone.

3. It's nice to build something and name it.
4. And sail it.

5. A greater feeling to be off shore and away from it all. I wished we could pause and relax, bobbing on the water.
6. Or continue paddling to the next shore. (But we had to go back and finish a race.)

7. God I love the sea.

Anita Magsaysay-Ho, 1914-2012

Anita Magsaysay-Ho Mother and Child sketch on a single-fold card

Another kind of loneliness, perhaps, is when you lose someone whom you know you can turn away from but go back to and admit you with open, gentle arms.

Re-discovering Irving

Washington Irving, The Legend of Sleepy Hollow and Other Tales

It's been two years since I found this hardbound beauty at a bargain book shop and I cherish it for the dedication written on the flyleaf—

Zach, Read. Love, Dad & Rio (Dec 2005)

That the book is now in someone else's possession and not Zach's is rather sad; but I'd like to assume a happier story: Zach had finished reading the book and let go of it in the spirit of passing on his father's sweet imperative.

I re-unearthed this treasure when I was cleaning my shelf two weeks ago. It was stacked with other, older pretty books I bought but hadn't opened yet—In the Name of the Rose, The Tale of Despereaux, and three titles from Graham Greene. Thought it was a sign for me to finally pore over its pages.

Spoke too soon

In the middle of the month, I made a premature declaration:

Eliot wrong this year, April not that cruel.

— Razel Estrella (@fishpeep) April 18, 2012

So here is April ending her reign with
1) A Monday,
2) A 36-degree weather,
3) A difficult deadline,
4) The beginnings of a cold.

The only dangerous thing

Even during his affairs with women he had always tried to avoid that phrase of the theatre, 'I love you'. He had been accused often enough of cruelty, though he preferred to think of himself as a painstaking and accurate diagnostician. If for other terms, he would have unhesitatingly used the phrase 'I love', but he had always been able to attribute the emotion he felt to a quite different malady — to loneliness, pride, physical desire, or even a simple sense of curiosity.

The Honorary Consul published by Vintage

The passage refers to Doctor Eduardo Plarr, a half English, half Spanish doctor in Argentina who is having an affair with the wife of his friend, Charley Fortnum, the British honorary consul mistakenly kidnapped by Plarr's other friends.

He moves within the world of Graham Greene's The Honorary Consul. While the novel is propelled by a political action (the kidnapping of the honorary consul) and is constantly questioning the functions of religion (through one of the kidnappers who is a former priest), it is heavily an examination of love by the doctor.

'I'm not quite sure what the word love means. My mother loves dulce de leche. So she tells me.'

Ragel

The latest addition to the wonderful misspellings of my wonderful name is brought to you by a caterer that serves delicious Filipino breakfast.

Food delivery receipt

This particular orthographic crime, I must admit, was done with my permission. If I may narrate, your honors—

Me: Longganisa meal with the eggs scrambled.

Guy: That's all, ma'am?

Me: That is all.

Guy: Your name, please?

Me: Razel.

Guy: ...

Me: Razel. R-a-z-e-l.

Guy: R-a-g?

Me: No, Zey.

Guy: J?

Me: Zee.

Guy: G?

Me: Yes G.

Tonight, we are young

So let's set the world on fire

Despite March being the fire prevention month, Manila was set ablaze. And I was glad to be in the middle of it all.

For three consecutive Saturdays since March began, I was audience at the 3rd International Pyro-musical Competition. The first night was awe-inspiring and it only got better from then on.

Two of the best exhibitions (since both of them won eventually) happened last week. A favorite to win the championship was Canada and I took their display as Fortune's birthday gift to me.

It's only been a week since I turned 29 but already I feel like I'm 7 years older. Going back to a 9 to 6 job is challenging, not to mention working in Manila is cause of stress enough. Manila can make an animal out of you. Whether prey or predator, who knows. Just recently an expat's video on the 20 things he dislikes about the Philippines went viral. It was taken down before I could watch it; but surely give me an hour in Malate and I will furnish you with a list of 200 things I dislike about the Philippines.

We can burn brighter than the sun

Which is not to say that I hate this country. And I didn't intend to discuss this matter in the first place. There are little and big things we hate and love about our country. The fact that it can serve as a good host to an international fireworks spectacle is one tiny reason that I love mine.

At the closing night of the competition, Canada was declared champion. Not a surprise. Philippines' Platinum Fireworks, Inc. took care of surprising the crowd by putting up a most stunning show regardless of technical difficulties. For a few burning minutes, everyone under that piece of Manila sky was young. Not the young who believes himself to be the genius outsider of the world, but the young who hasn't learned what it means to put his guard up yet; with nothing to protect or fear, not even the fire.

Notes:
1. Photos taken by my sister
2. Title and photo captions are from the song 'We are young', which was used in the Philippine pyro-musical display

The surprise I don't know

1. What you live for

Why do you stay up so late?
Don Paterson

I’ll tell you, if you really want to know:
remember that day you lost two years ago
at the rockpool where you sat and played the jeweler
with all those stones you’d stolen from the shore?
Most of them went dark and nothing more,
but sometimes one would blink the secret color
it had locked up somewhere in its stony sleep.
This is how you knew the ones to keep.

So I collect the dull things of the day
in which I see some possibility
but which are dead and which have the surprise
I don’t know, and I’ve no pool to help me tell—
so I look at them and look at them until
one thing makes a mirror in my eyes
then I paint it with the tear to make it bright.
This is why I sit up through the night.

Not love, not meaning, not happiness, but surprises. That one can find something in the dull and that love, meaning and happiness will one day give us a blink.

2. Rainfire

Seeing the best pyro-musical show in my life incidentally happened on my birthday. Last night, on my second week of watching the 3rd Philippine International Pyro-musical Competition, all I could think of was how some of the fireworks were similar to the spray of water. Not exactly a ground-breaking comparison; but then there was Canada, who went from flirting with my imagination to satiating my desire to be awed, with fireworks set to Amanda Marshall's 'Let it rain'. That section in their display made me—and I trust the rest of those who brought their heart with them—maudlin and dumbfounded.

Fiery head

Not fireworks, but fireworks set to music

Ever since I heard about the pyro-musical olympics, I knew I had to witness one; and witness one, I did.

At the seaside boulevard, Mall of Asia

Yesterday my sister, brother and I went to MOA to watch China and The Netherlands battle it out at the 3rd International Pyro-muscial Competition.

Eyes skyward

I was dazzled, elated, and utterly proud to be a human being. At one point in the night I thought, Not even God can make something as sublime as this.

* Photos taken by my sister

The freshman

opened a book and read a passage that struck a chord, a string of words he understood so well and so fit his mood that he took it as gospel truth.

Wish and will

A very old copy of Curtain

If you were stranded on an island, what book would you want to have with you?

Any of Agatha Christie's. Why? Because a small island is a suitable place to scare and at the same time fascinate yourself. Not with thoughts of ghosts or wild beasts, but of human beings engaging their darker side.

Literature over and over again proves that man is more frightful than monster; for the former is real and, at least, with the latter, evil without mercy is expected.

In Curtain, where Hercule Poirot solves his final case, the characters are easily recognizable to win the reader's sympathy and sufficiently nuanced to earn their doubt.

Everyone can be (and often is) a murder suspect in a mystery novel, but the genius of Curtain lies in substantiating that everyone is a potential murderer—

In everyone there arises from time to time the wish to kill—though not the will to kill. How often have you not felt or heard others say: "She made me so furious I felt I could have killed her!" "I could have killed B. for saying so-and-so!" "I was so angry I could have murdered him!" and all those statements are literally true. Your mind at such moments is quite clear. You would like to kill so-and-so. But you do not do it. Your will has to assent to your desire. In young children, the brake is as yet acting imperfectly. I have known a child, annoyed by its kitten, say: "Keep still or I'll hit you on the head and kill you" and actually do so—to be stunned and horrified a moment later when it realizes that the kitten's life will not return—because, you see, really the child loves that kitten dearly. So then, we are all potential murderers. And the art of X was this: not to suggest the desire, but to break down the normal decent resistance.

Pertinent to the imperishable themes of taking the law into your own hands and the power of an idea, how that will to kill is sparked and nurtured is the crux of Curtain—making it a thrilling and ultimately a rewarding read.

If you could change one of your physical characteristics, which one would it be and why?

I already have: For around 5 years since college, I wore braces to straighten my crooked teeth, and now it's all good. In my eyes, a beautiful smile is always equivalent to a beautiful face.

Valentine's Day gift suggestions

If I could choose
Freely in that great treasure-house
Anything from any shelf,
I would give you back yourself,
And power to discriminate
What you want and want it not too late,
Many fair days free from care
And heart to enjoy both foul and fair,
And myself, too, if I could find
Where it lay hidden and it proved kind.

—Edward Thomas (excerpt from And you, Helen)

*

1. Self
2. Knowing what you want
3. Wanting it when it matters
4. Happy selfish hours
5. Humor
6. Kindness

Delighted to meet her

Grabbed Bridget Jones's Diary at a book sale

Bridget Jones writes in her diary what I won't dare write in my own: current weight, calorie intake, sexual encounters, humiliations and defeats; and in a manner I cannot even begin to master: straightforward and witty.

Chick lit is an unexplored (because avoided) territory for me. My impression of the genre is tied to whiny girls belaboring the obvious about love, men, and other girls. So why the sudden foray into the unknown? No special reason, except the human urge to sometimes try something different and know. Plus, my inner Anglophile whispered, Bridget is brilliant.

The book was published when I was still in high school, though I only learned about it in college when the film adaptation came out. It is, I realize, for the better that I've read it now than then; for surely back when I was 19, I would have little appreciation for the theory that

Homosexuals and single women in their thirties have natural bonding: both being accustomed to disappointing their parents and being treated as freaks of society.

Friday south

My message went, 'I'll be waiting,' and attached was a photo of the calm evening in Westgate, Alabang. 'You're too early,' my friend replied.

Only I was willfully early and never waiting. With me was a book and a full pot of tea.

Technofear & technojoy

We had a good run, you and I

My record still holds: I've yet to buy my own cell phone. I said good-bye to that beautiful copper Palm Treo that had grown too old to use and hello to a new handset, again courtesy of my sister.

The gift did not come with a ribbon but a headache. Before I could fully use the phone:

1. I had to have it unlocked. I did and it cost me.

2. I had to have my SIM card upgraded. I did, eventually—

a. I had to go to the nearest wireless center. I did and they told me they ran out of the type of SIM card I needed. But they were kind enough to look for the next nearest wireless center and reserve the SIM for me.

b. I had to go to wireless center #2 to claim my upgraded SIM. I did, for a few pesos more.

Now I'm trying to activate my new phone's MMS settings, but I keep getting 'Phone model not compatible'. These machines do tend to be like humans, you can't simply figure them out, and they already come with a manual, so they're worse.

What Eddie Izzard so perfectly sums up in his sketch on technology—I do love it, but I can hate it really big time. But as I've later on recognized, when you say you have a love-hate relationship with someone or something, chances are love is the foothold of the entire affair. Therefore hassle and all, I, in the end, love technology (and humans).

What is the best thing about writing?

You can create and live in an ideal world, correct blunders and turn faults into constituents of perfection. And after having done all this, reality presents a rare surprise you were too dull to have imagined.

12 things at 2012

1. Someone began with an error. 2013. Although this always happens to me. When it's my birthday and people ask me how old I am, I tend to add another year to my actual age. (Care to psychologize?)

2. I spent the first few hours of 2012 watching Inception on cable TV. That's not entirely true, though. The first 45 minutes were spent watching fireworks. It may be burning money, but it's one human invention and luxury that I appreciate. Someday I wish to visit Australia and, among other things, witness the Sydney New Year's eve fireworks display.

3. In the assumption that trimming them down to the bare essentials will make them easier to practice, my resolutions are:

3.1) meet deadlines,
3.2) not say yes when I don't mean it,
3.3) write slowly.

4. Before you say, How can you meet deadlines when you write slowly?, let me explain: it's not about working fast, it's about managing time well. In other words, I resolve to be more disciplined.

5. The unabridged version of my 2012 resolutions (including the first 3) would be:

5.1) get out of bed before 10 am,
5.2) work out at least 3 times a week,
5.3) minimize junk food intake,
5.4) explore new places.

Still a short list!