No interesting short orders at the Sitio Catacutan hawkers' stalls.

Settled for a leg of deep-fried chicken and a tall glass of orange soda in the kitchen for an afternoon snack.

I seem to be ravenous after oversleeping.

Angelique and J. came home from lunch out. Aubrey still resting upstairs.

A quiet Sunday afternoon.

If you are single and have no children and grandchildren whom you can pass on your possessions to, it is wise to stop acquiring items and to start selling them off now, beginning with items you feel you can live without.

First be financially stable, and then be an artist, for there is nothing more pathetic than being an artist who despairs and cries for help from his fellow artists and the world.

The sun, past its zenith for the day, sends forth golden kayaks for our minds to ride in.

Good afternoon, Cubao!

Slept ten hours last night. Would have slept on had not the electric clock played its noon music.

I recall a time when I was in high school and slept in my bedroom 12 hours. I came home from a play rehearsal 2:00 AM and woke up 3:00 PM. Then, when I was in college and working as a regular writer for a TV drama anthology, the same thing would happen.

Today it's called recharging my mind. My body is my power bank.

Re-Posting from my old, deactivated account:

Panyos, taladros
And brass medalyones
Libros, libretas and weird oraciones
Rolled testamentos I tie up with strings
These are a few of my anting-antings

Cream-colored seashells and spears of kristales
Head cloths and neck cloths
Botelyas, kurales
Bulalakaws that fly to the moon on their wings
These are a few of my anting-antings

Boys in chalecos with red sinturones
Bullets that stay on my nose and eyelashes
Silver-white mutyas and magical rings
These are a few of my anting-antings

When the dog bites
When the bee stings
When I'm feeling sad
I simply remember my anting-antings
And then I don't feel so bad

The August leaf falls off my planner.

Dinner at home with Aubrey.

Brought some food to Jerome. He is down with the flu and today is Michael's day off, so M.'s cafe was closed today and will be closed tonight.

Aubrey and R. had lunch at home while I was away.

Later, Angelique arrived from college.

Drizzly evening in Cubao.

Gene arrived. Angelique and he are going to a birthday party at J.'s house.

An afternoon with my granddaughter Chevy Keith to celebrate her birthday

What the Hungry Ghosts sent me this morning.

Left, green onyx ball on green onyx base. Right, purple charoite.

Good morning, Cubao!

The clouds are frosted white gels that filter the sunshine.

Shredded beef and vegetable dish and a Pepsi at M.'s cafe.

So misleading that "career" is "karera" and that "karera" also means "race".

Never jump onto the bandwagon. Sooner or later your co-riders will push you off.

Instead, ride your own little cart.

"The woods are lovely, dark and deep,

But I have promises to keep,

And miles to go before I sleep,

And miles to go before I sleep."

--Robert Frost

Dinner at home alone.

Aubrey and R. arrived from university.

Night rain in Cubao.

So far addicted to fish balls dipped in evil, potent vinegar mixed with chopped chili pepper and onion. That's what I had two afternoons in a row. The man who vends them has been at his trade ever since Angelique and Aubrey were babies.

Still in bed with Come, Tell Me How You Live. I love rereading my old favorites (Robert van Gulik, Agatha Christie, Herge, Ellis Peters, and Paul Auster among them) rather than take on new ones and risk being disappointed or displeased. To me and to me only, books are food. I am accustomed to eating the same things I like over and over again.

I will be your father, and I will stop the rain./

Lunch at home alone. Granddaughters in school.

Two cups very black, Vietnam coffee.

The clouds are fields of white daisies.

Good morning, Cubao!

Slept nine hours last night.

Drizzly evening in Cubao.

Set up confections, glasses of clean, drinking water, and lit candles for the Hungry Ghosts on the studio porch and in the small loggia. Tonight is the last night of Hungry Ghosts Month.

Dinner at home alone.

Angelique arrived from university and had a take-out dinner delivered.

Aubrey arrived from university and dinner out.

Looking forward to a cozy night in bed with Agatha Christie's Come Tell Me How You Live.

It's heavenly to have a life and a lifestyle one loves and an occasional fantasy too.

Today, when someone talks and acts as though he were my supervisor, I give him a triple whammy and he never knows what hit him.

I've had no more supervisors since I retired. No one can tell me what to think, what to say, and what to do any longer. (Not that anyone ever did before I retired, which all of my former supervisors still very well know!)

All my life as an employee I came home late every night, including weekend nights, from overtime work, play rehearsals, play performances, exhibit openings, programs, receptions, formal dinners, videotaping sessions, night classes, workshops, Spirit Quests, heritage site inspections, and local and international travel. I was never there for my family.

Since I retired December 2014 I swore that I would always be with my family until the day I die. No one can tell me what to do and no one can ever change that.

Home alone. Angelique in college, Aubrey at university.

Two-hour, afternoon nap.

An early lunch alone.

Then sat with Angelique while she took her lunch in the dining room.

Because of advanced technology, people communicate with one another faster than the speed of light, and their intelligence becomes shared intelligence. As such, it is easy to move them emotionally but, because of their intelligence, they will always refuse to be used as pawns. Therefore it is not easy to move them to action.

Management will give the people blackouts, water shortage, uncollected garbage, prison riots, street crimes, and food crises, among others, meaning to make the people discontent and rise up against the administration. They can't seem to see that most people will merely sit back and watch the news on TV.

If there's going to be a revolt, it's going to be a revolt on the management level.

Good morning, Cubao!

The clouds are escalators moving up and down the sky.

A shredded beef sandwich and pineapple juice at M.'s cafe.

Brought the staff some food.

It was Latin music night.

For Gerard

The streets are alive with videoke music
With songs that are sung through the endless night
The streets fill my ears with the noise of music
My ears want to douse every song they hear

My ears want to fly like the wings of the birds
That rise from the lake to the trees
My ears want to hear all the ending notes
Of the songs on the breeze
I flee from the noise but I trip and fall over
Stones on my way
To sleep through the night like a log on the bed sheets of grass

I run from the streets and my ears are ringing

I know I will hear what I've heard before
My ears are not blessed by these sounds of singing
I won't sleep once more

For Gerard

Hello darkness, my old friend
It's videoke time again
Because the yelling and loud shrieking
Woke me up while I was sleeping
And the anger that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Without the sound of silence

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my ears were stabbed by the voice of a neophyte
That split the night
And smashed the sound of silence

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People singing without feeling
People rocking without dancing
People writing songs that too many voices share
They all dared
Disturb the sound of silence

"Fools" said I, "You do not know
Bad singing like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Cut the music that I might reach you"
But my words like silent raindrops fell
And melted in my call for silence

And the people bowed and prayed

To the music god they made

And the sign cried out its warning

In the words that it was forming

And the sign said, "The words of the prophets

Are written on beer garden walls

And billiard halls"

And went through the night carousing

Dinner at home alone.

Angelique and J. arrived from college and dinner out, then Aubrey arrived from university and dinner out.

Set up confections, a glass of clean, drinking water, and a lit candle for the Hungry Ghosts on the studio porch on this, the penultimate, night of Hungry Ghosts Month. 

Two cups very black, Vietnam coffee while sitting in the foyer looking out onto the driveway. Lit a candle inside our carved, soapstone holder. It began to drizzle, and I watched people walking to and fro under their umbrellas.

If you are only a guest performer, do not dress as though you were the star.

Back from jalan-jalan at the center.

The sun barely peeped through the sheets of clouds, but it was a hot and sweltering day.

Ever since I retired in 2015 I have not longed to do a day of work. I deserve to be well-rested until the day I die.

I live only for my family.

I have successfully weeded out atchays from my life. I am happy without them.

I no longer compromise, even with non-atchays.

I take into our house only people whom I like.

I have become highly selective of students whom I teach magic and the development of psychic abilities.

My writing, my painting, and my knitting remain my forms and works of art.

My works and I do not exist to entertain others.

The only stones I value are diamonds, emeralds, rubies, opals, and South Sea pearls.

I detest anything made of plastic, resin, or fiberglass.

I do not go out of my way to please others.

I travel only under circumstances I approve of. I do not like sharing rooms, bathrooms, and toilets with others.

I will always smoke to my heart's content.

I am available only via door-to-door shipment.

Tomorrow, August 29, is the last day of Hungry Ghosts Month.

Tornado.

Home alone. Both granddaughters in school.

Two-hour, morning nap.

Good morning, Cubao!

The clouds are glass jugs of fresh milk and orange juice.

Dinner at home with Angelique. Aubrey already sleeping in her bedroom.

Asked Jerome to take some food over to M.'s cafe staff.

The night is still.

Bought sopas, kwek-kwek, and bananacue for the granddaughters at one of the Sitio Catacutan hawkers' stands.

Look, Dick, look. We set up a new, 5' x 5' canvas and everyone is asking whose portrait it will bear.

Hired M.'s boys to wrap Saint Lorenzo Ruiz.

Four huge paintings are now ready for pick-up and installation at Maryhill School of Theology: Divine Grace/The Immaculate Conception, Saint  Joseph the Worker, Saint Lorenzo Ruiz, and Saint Pedro Calungsod.

Lunch at home alone. Granddaughters still resting upstairs.

Just found out that both granddaughters' classes were suspended today.

Home not-alone.

Two cups very black, Vietnam coffee.

First cigarette of the day. It never fails to induce a most unusual feeling, as though an enchanted shovel were unearthing ideas from my Unconscious.

Wearing rings again.

Saint Lorenzo Ruiz is touch-dry and ready to be wrapped!

Good morning, Cubao!

The clouds are rotating, crystal carousels.

If you are an artist, ask yourself the following questions now:

--Will my works outlive me for decades or centuries, or will they be forgotten after my death?
--Will the fans who admire me now be replaced by fans who will continue to admire me even if they never knew me?
--Is my socialization more important than my tangible works?
--Do I produce serious works or do I seek merely to entertain others?
--Does my art speak for itself or is it derivative of others' works?
--Does my oeuvre have a strong, philosophical spine, or am I just whiling away my time doing "cross-stitching"?
--Have I transcended the "self-expression" of children's art and am now seriously devoting myself to my craft?
--Am I able to solve painting problems that continue to stymie other artists?
--What is the critical appraisal of my works?
--What is my personal appraisal of my works?
--Are there pieces among my works that I would consider mediocre?
--Am I merely an amateur dabbler?
--Is my art a grand passion or an incidental hobby?
--After my works have changed lives, will the people whose lives I changed continue to value my works, or will they move on to other, urgent issues?
--Am I more interested in making money and in producing commercial works than in making breakthroughs?
--Am I painting the same thing over and over again so that viewers will say that, once they've seen any of my works, they might just as well have seen all of them?
--Am I using original techniques or am I merely copying the techniques of other artists?
--Am I skimping and saving on materials or do I use the best possible materials to produce my works?
--Am I foisting my works on others or do people naturally gravitate toward me to buy my works?
--After I've sold a painting, am I committed to its cleaning and restoration when necessary?

The werewolf crossed the street to the burger stand.

A brief rainfall.

Dinner at home with Angelique and Aubrey.

Everyone is now in their respective rooms preparing for Tuesday.

Aubrey took a late lunch in the dining room.

Read more pages from Come, Tell Me How You Live in bed. More than halfway through.

A one-hour, afternoon nap. 

The rains have gone.

Another hot, dry day of sweltering heat in Cubao.

Worked on retouching the fourth side of Saint Lorenzo Ruiz's cradle while Angelique took her lunch in the dining room. Aubrey still resting upstairs.

Retouching is done. If all of this is dry tomorrow, the painting can be wrapped for pick-up.

Washed three brushes.

And now I can wear my rings again.

Lunch at home alone. Granddaughters still resting upstairs.

Hired M.'s boys to rotate Saint Lorenzo Ruiz for me.

Tony Perez's Art of War: Always discern whether a person is being truly helpful to you or whether he is merely pretending to be helpful.

Tony Perez's Art of War: Never spend money on your friends if only to impress them. Spend the money on yourself and your family, and your friends will be doubly impressed.

Don't wait for heroes to do the dirty work.

Begin by cleaning up your own back yard.

The person you abused, discriminated against, and looked down on is the very person who can heal you, but he will always have the privilege of not doing so.

Love, provide, and care for your family. That is heaven itself. It fulfills all your karma.

The clouds are kitchen chillers containing drinks and fruits and cakes.

Good morning, Cubao!

Slept as long and as peacefully and as sweetly as the hills.

A spicy beef sizzling dish and pineapple juice at M.'s cafe.

Again, an all-male clientele tonight. Young men drinking, because tomorrow is a holiday.

Aubrey arrived from dinner out with R. and his family. R. and his family brought her home.

Dinner at home with Angelique.

Waiting for Aubrey and R. to come home.

Everyone will oversleep tonight, and so I might as well take a finger of rum to knock me out.

A half-hour, early evening nap.

Still drizzling when I woke up.

Angelique and J. resting.

Aubrey off to join R. and his family at a mall and dinner out later.

Finished retouching three sides of the cradling of Saint Lorenzo Ruiz. If everything is dry tomorrow, I'll ask the boys to rotate it and I'll work on the fourth side.

It's been a drizzly afternoon, though. But everyone seems glad that tomorrow is National Heroes Day, a holiday.

My sister Alice's birthday lunch

Good morning, Cubao!

The cloud fairies water Earth's gardens with giant sprinklers.

Haven't you noticed that, today, animals know what a camera is and either deliberately pose for shots or avoid them completely?

Would have loved to join the Mallowans on their expedition in Syria had I been in my twenties, but that is now something I would abhor. I never travel anywhere unless I know that I will have my own room in which I can smoke to my heart's content and my own private bath and toilet. That is why I don't go camping, on treasure hunts, or to beach resorts with mostly public spaces.

A shredded beef submarine sandwich and pineapple juice at M.'s cafe. They were replaying Pee Mak, a Thai horror comedy, on the TV screen. An all-male clientele tonight. Looked out through the glass windows from time to time and imagined how P. Tuazon looked like earlier, in the daytime, under sunshine and in the rain. The day people and the night people are certainly not the same. Neither are everyone's preoccupations, thoughts, and feelings.

Angelique is off to J.'s birthday dinner.

Sat with Aubrey while she took a late dinner in the dining room.

Must wake up at least mid-morning tomorrow. We are going to my sister Alice's birthday lunch.

A rainy evening in Cubao.

What you stow away in drawers, you stow away from your consciousness, sometimes forever.

I hate marching band music, especially Sousa music. It's what they played over and over again on the sound system when I was in grade school and all of us were herded, in lines, to the cafeteria during lunch time and to the school buses after school hours.

When a person does not accept or respond to your invitation two times, it is best to never invite that person again.

Do not shun materialism, for your life's mise-en-scene--sets, costumes, and props--cannot be complete without it.

There is always a brief silence when the rain stops, as though, within that pause, the elements decide which one of them should step in next.

https://tonyperezphilippinescyberspacebook18.blogspot.com/2019/08/no-matter-how-cluttered-your-desk-is-it.html

The sun, the rain, and the wind teach us important lessons, but we seldom listen to them.

They will stop coming only when it becomes very clear that you will never love them.

Set up confections, a glass of clean, drinking water, and a lit candle for the Hungry Ghosts on the studio porch.

Didn't water the orchids as it was rainy all morning.

An early dinner alone. Granddaughters are still resting upstairs. Angelique leaving later to attend J.'s birthday party in J.'s parents' house.

My rest day is soon over and I shall have to attend to the cradling of Saint Lorenzo Ruiz tomorrow.

Retrieved Come, Tell Me How You Live by Agatha Christie--not a fictional detective story but an autobiographical account of her travel to Syria to be with her husband, archaeologist Sir Max Mallowan, on an expedition.

One-hour, early evening nap.

Finished rereading Death Comes as the End.

Must retrieve another book to start rereading tonight.

One's remarkable success is always most de-stressing to oneself yet also most distressing to one's former classmates.

No studio work on this wet, chilly day.

In bed with Death Comes as the End  and a lit candle for atmosphere.

With or without love and money, two things always keep us alive: good health and a definite purpose in life.

M.'s boys finished wrapping and setting aside Saint Pedro Calungsod. It is ready for pick-up.

Now the task that remains is the retouching of Saint Lorenzo Ruiz's cradle.

Lunch at home with Aubrey. Angelique in college.

Rainy morning in Cubao. Loving the chilly air.

Two cups very black, Vietnam coffee.

Time to light a candle on my writing desk.

Good morning, Cubao!

The clouds are cascades of foamy water on agate boulders.

Aubrey arrived home from university. We had a snack in the dining room.

Then I went back to bed with Death Comes as the End.

An afternoon of icy rain and chilly breezes in Cubao. Thought I'd wear one of my robes to lounge in, but decided not to. In Cubao, weather changes faster than you can change your outfit.

It was time, though, for a cup of lotus green tea that Christine brought me from Vietnam.

Sat in the foyer looking out onto the driveway.

Lunch at home alone. Angelique in college and Aubrey at university.

M.'s boys helped me rotate Saint Pedro Calungsod on the easel. Retouched fourth side of cradling.

If all of this is touch-dry tomorrow, Saint Pedro Calungsod can be wrapped and set aside for pick-up.

Two-hour, morning nap.

Missed seeing Angelique off to college.

Good morning, Cubao!

The clouds are white towels hung out to dry.

Night classes 4:30 AM

Let us look at everything that really happened.

Now in bed with Agatha Christie.

Spaghetti and Pepsi at M.'s cafe.

Deja vu. Two other customers were there, who were with me some nights ago. And we were at the same tables too.

It is easy to detect unrealistic ambition in anyone.

When you break a promise you made someone, two other people will break the promises they made you.

Religious people are naturally superstitious.

Anyone who is out to extensively promote himself will feel threatened by anything his colleagues do and say.

Feel the sensation of thinking.

Never imitate someone else's art. It will always be inferior to the original in many ways.

Be selective about purchasing statues, because they will always be inhabited by elementals.

It is difficult to be faithful to those who are unfaithful to you.

The way to get many things done is to allot only a certain time span for each activity and not overshoot it. What you are unable to finish then gets scheduled later.

Do not be sorry to lose a servant who does not serve you well.

Never entertain evangelists who show up during mealtimes.

Fundamentalism is a failure when no two fundamentalists live and think alike.

Do not fear other religions and their trappings. If you do, it is a sure sign of how uncertain you are of your own.

A brief, evening drizzle in Cubao.

Set up confections, a glass of clean, drinking water, and a lit candle for the Hungry Ghosts on the studio porch.

Sprayed the orchids.

Dinner alone.

Aubrey arrived from university and dinner out. Angelique also having dinner out after college.

Brought a plate of food and a bowl of soup to M.'s cafe staff. 

An artist can always choose a happy, peaceful, inexpensive, and stress-free life by:

--choosing writing over directing, because directing entails physical exertion and psychological exertion by juggling relationships among producers, performers,  and crew members

--choosing painting over conducting art workshops, because conducting art workshops entails extensive preparation, travel, and psychological exertion by juggling relationships among workshop sponsors and participants.

Only the artist who chooses well knows the true meaning of solitude.

Tony Perez's Art of War: An unhappy person will spread as many rumors as he can so that everyone else will also be unhappy.

Finished retouching three sides of cradling of Saint Pedro Calungsod. Will have to ask the boys to flip it tomorrow so I can work on the fourth side.

Lunch at home with Angelique; Aubrey at university.

Hired two of M.'s boys to flip one painting so that I can retouch its cradling.

Good morning, Cubao!

The sunbeams are rivulets of light ridden by gold, origami cranes.

Honey's youngest sibling was buried today. He took his own life due to an identity crisis. I wish I'd known him. I would have been able to help him.

Wet night in Cubao.

The members of The Wands are on storm watch.

A cornsilog and an iced root beer at M.'s cafe.

Angelique and J. arrived from dinner out.

Dinner at home with Aubrey. Angelique and J. are having dinner out.

J. arrived.

Read in bed and took a one-hour, afternoon nap.

Chito arrived to pick up his parcel and have an early dinner before leaving.

Waiting for the varnish to dry.

Kid scouts, but one of them looks unhappy.

Retire at the proper age.

Stay home and build your castle.

Continue exercising your talents and Post your works on the Net. You will be omnipresent whether people like it or not.

Decline all dinky invitations.

Leave other opportunities to the younger artists and to the lesser-talented. They need it. You don't.

No one can puncture your balloons if they are filled with the helium of genuine talent.

Now back to bed with Death Comes as the End and hopefully another delicious, one-hour, afternoon nap.

Lunch at home with Angelique, Aubrey, and R. We ate at different times, though, because I was varnishing the diptych.

The body is like an electrical outlet.The more you plug activities into it, the more it will short-circuit.

Vernissage: _Saint Lorenzo Ruiz_ and _Saint Pedro Calungsod_

I know that ocean species are slowly being activated to take on their heretofore dormant, extraterrestrial intelligence.

But I have seen cats and dogs evolve so fast that Planet of the Apes might have been a precognitive series after all.

Good morning, Cubao!

The sky is a quaking mound of blue panna cotta.

It has happened to me at least three times that a person who did me wrong in the distant past loomed in my consciousness and I cursed that person out loud and said, "Mamatay ka na sana."

And then the person replied, "Patay na po ako."

Ninoy Aquino Day is the most inconsistently celebrated holiday in this country.

A plate of spaghetti at M.'s cafe.

Tomorrow may be a holiday for everyone but I'll be doing varnishing, possibly the whole day. Three layers of varnish on two, 6.5-feet-tall paintings. Washing brushes and at least six palette knives. And then doing my laundry too.

Aubrey and R. arrived from university and dinner out.

We are all set for a restful and cozy night later, because tomorrow is a holiday.

Matchmakers will never see and will never believe that many people are happiest unhitched and alone.

You are a werewolf if your long hair remains a consistent length but your fingernails and toenails grow at a rater faster than a normal person's.

Angelique arrived from college. Now waiting for Aubrey.

An early dinner alone.

Brought some food over to M.'s cafe staff.

Set up confections, a glass of clean, drinking water, and a lit candle for the Hungry Ghosts on the studio porch.

Sprayed the orchids with water, as I do every evening. They aren't dying but they also don't seem to be growing. Only my mother and my daughter-in-law Ivy could successfully tend to orchids; the orchids always blossomed for them.

Thanks to the stifling heat the two paintings in the studio are now touch-dry. I'll begin varnishing them tomorrow.

Waiting for my granddaughters to arrive home from school.

Saw Angelique off to college.

Reread more pages from Death Comes as the End in bed.

One-hour, afternoon nap.

Sat in the dining room with Angelique while she took her lunch.

Now I'm back to bed, with Death Comes as the End.

Took an early lunch alone. Aubrey at university, Angelique still resting upstairs.

Still taking a break from painting. Waiting for the diptych to dry before varnishing.

It is sheer bliss to be doing absolutely nothing.

Good morning, Cubao!

The sun lowers a golden swing for you to ride on.

Never make the mistake of loving other people more than your family.

Aubrey arrived from university and dinner out.

Dinner at home alone.

Brought a plate of food and a bowl of soup to M.'s cafe staff.

Angelique arrived from college and ordered a Korean dinner. Sat with her while she took her dinner.

Set up confections, a glass of clean, drinking water, and a lit candle for the Hungry Ghosts on the studio porch.

Finished rereading They Came to Baghdad. Retrieved Death Comes as the End to reread next.

Authors and their works are like food to me. I eat only my favorites, what I've tasted and eaten before and what I still like eating, no matter how simple.

I am actually perplexed by people who snatch at new books as fast as they come, and I wonder whether they actually read those books--because I don't see any change manifested in their ways of thinking, in their lifestyles, in their conversation, and in their own writing.

Chito's delivery arrived.

Did nothing the whole afternoon but snack and reread more pages from _They Came to Baghdad_ in bed. Almost through rereading it.

One-hour, late afternoon nap.

Woke up after a cloudburst passed. The driveway and the streets are wet. Turned on lights. I love darkness only if I have the power to brighten or accent it with lights.

Lunch at home with Angelique. Aubrey at university.

A rest day from painting.

Waiting for a delivery for Chito. Other than that, my Garfield choices are sleeping, snacking, drinking more coffee, reading in bed, or sitting around doing absolutely nothing. I love being a hedonist. It is sheer joy to have transient heavens. Even after they've gone, you can still relish memories of them. Forever.

Do remember that, if you need me to do something for you, I am available only via door-to-door shipment.

I walk a mile only for myself and my family.

It is quite ironic that I love wearing rings because I am a writer and a painter, yet I have to take off all of them when I am writing and when I am painting.

Happy is the man who knows that the smallest things can give him the greatest pleasures.

Good morning, Cubao!

The sun is a treasure chest overflowing with topaz and yellow sapphires.

For Gerard

Midnight, there are sounds from the pavement

Is the moon on videoke?

She is singing along
In the lamplight, all voices now collect in my ears
And the wind begins to croon

Memory, all alone in the moonlight
I can dream of how quiet
And how peaceful I was
I remember the time I knew what sweet silence was
Let the memory live again

Every streetlamp seems to beat
A very toneless rhythm
Someone screeches and the street lamp flickers
And soon
It will be morning

Daylight
I must wait for the shutdown
Of the bars and beer gardens
And I mustn't give in
When the dawn comes
Tonight will be a broken song too
And a new day will begin

 OMG 28/40 more paintings to go for Maryhill School of Theology!

Taking a short break after vernissage, though, and then commencing the third portrait in my series of 12 portraits of contemporary Filipino writers.

_Saint Lorenzo Ruiz_ and _Saint Pedro Calungsod_ (Diptych)

These two paintings were completed July 25 – August 18, 2019.

Saint Lorenzo Ruiz

Oil on cradled canvas

6.5’ x 4’

July 25 – August 18, 2019

Saint Pedro Calungsod

Oil on cradled canvas

6.5’ x 4’

July 25 – August 18, 2019

  

The two Filipino saints are depicted in the same field, with rice ready for harvesting and coconut trees in the background. This diptych was designed to hang outside the President’s and the Dean’s offices in the lobby, across Christ Calming the Storm. While Christ Calming the Storm was painted from a high angle, i.e. from the point of view of the wind, Saint Lorenzo Ruiz and Saint Pedro Calungsod were both painted from a low angle to create a visual shift as viewers pass through the lobby. Theological meaning may be perceived not only in the rice field but also in the coconut trees, the coconut tree being one of the Philippine trees of life, alongside the bamboo (Saint John the Baptist Triptych) and the banana (Saint Joseph the Worker).

Above and behind everything in the diptych, a metaphorical tsunami, representing powerful forces of oppression, rises in preparation for extinguishing all forms of life beneath it. The diptych, however, is about the salvation of the soul against all odds, including death.

I went through a very brief Dimash Kudaibergen phase in July and August. The auditory stimulus I used while painting this diptych was https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c-BYMBJFH_U. The auditory stimuli I use have nothing to do with the subject matter of my paintings.

Worked half an hour on ninety-third glaze.

This diptych is finished.

Worked half an hour on ninety-second glaze.

E. visited to check up on the diptych. I'd told him they'd be ready mid-August, but they are not. We tentatively scheduled delivery to Maryhill School of Theology first week of September.

Brought E. to the cafe for carbonara.

In the meantime Angelique and J. had a very late lunch in the dining room.

Worked an hour on ninety-first glaze.

Now Aubrey and R. are off to a mall and having dinner out later.

Frazzling Sunday.

Worked an hour on ninetieth glaze.

Back from jalan-jalan. Paid our water bill, bought a pack of joss sticks, and resisted all possible hedonist temptations.

Soda with a lot of ice cubes in the kitchen. I must say, it was a sweltering hot afternoon out at the center.

Early noon rice.

Must go jalan-jalan in a few and will have to resume painting when I come back home.

Also waiting for a delivery for Chito, which I hope won't come while I am out.

Worked half an hour on eighty-ninth glaze.

Worked an hour on eighty-eighth glaze.

Worked an hour on eighty-seventh glaze.

Good morning, Cubao!

The clouds are clumps of white cacti on white, desert sand.

Spaghetti and a Gatorade at M.'s cafe.

Bought brownie and butterscotch packs.

The neighborhood is alive on this Saturday night.

Calling it a day for painting. Will resume eighty-seventh glaze tomorrow.

I can now very safely say, though, that the diptych is almost done and should be complete in, at most, two days.

Worked half an hour on eighty-sixth glaze.

Aubrey taking her dinner upstairs, I took my dinner in the dining room, and Angelique and J. are going to a despedida.

Brought a plate of food to the compound security guard.

Set up confections, a glass of clean drinking water, and a lit candle for the Hungry Ghosts on the studio porch.

Angelique and J. arrived from college.

Worked an hour on eighty-fifth glaze.

Aubrey arrived from the family dentist's.

Saw Aubrey off to the family dentist's.

Worked an hour on eighty-fourth glaze.

Worked half an hour on eighty-third glaze.

Took an early lunch.

Worked an hour and a half on eighty-second glaze while Aubrey took her lunch in the dining room. Angelique in college.

Good morning, Cubao!

The sky wakes up from sleep wearing blue pajamas.

Feed the Hungry Ghosts and they will give you the most unexpected and unimaginable blessings.

Every night, when the granddaughters are already in their rooms on the upper floor, I sit at my writing desk outside my captain's cabin bedroom and unwind with a finger measure of wine or brandy or rum on the rocks. All the lights are off except for my desk light, which illuminates only my desktop and the special objects I placed on it, for now my red malachite sphere and lode slice of banded, red carnelian and crystal quartz, while everything else around me is in complete darkness. This is the time I review everything good during the day and all possible things that I did or said wrong. I always tell myself, "I survived this day". That one sentence immediately deletes all the unfinished business of the day. I turn to tomorrow's planner and sequence everything I have to do.

Live  by the day, survive. You are alive. You are loved. If not by lovers, by your friends.

It is enough to know that you are loved by people you do not know.

Cone incense is not votive. It is merely for atmosphere.

Dinner alone.

Worked an hour on eighty-first glaze while Angelique and Aubrey had dinner in the dining room.

Visited M.'s cafe.

The responsible parent, alive or dead, will always do his best to ensure that his children's lives do not end as tragedies.

My perception of that issue is that, if you are a male transvestite whose body is a man's body, no matter how much you think and feel like a woman, women won't want you in their rest rooms because they don't want a man's DNA and man's cells on their toilet bowls.

The only solution I can think of is to look like a woman CONVINCINGLY and GET AWAY WITH IT.

Or do what I do, which is to use my personal bathroom and toilet at home before leaving the house, because I detest public rest rooms anyway.

Worked two hours on eightieth glaze.

A short, late afternoon nap.

Aubrey arrived from university.

Worked an hour on seventy-ninth glaze.

Lunch at home alone.

Worked an hour and a half on seventy-eighth glaze.

Saw Angelique off to college.

Worked an hour on seventy-seventh glaze.

Worked an hour on seventy-sixth glaze.

The sky is a cabochon of blue lace agate.

Good morning, Cubao!

The sun is a brand-new coffee maker at a breakfast buffet.

It is not bad luck to pass under a ladder, but it is your psyche's way of showing that you allow others to step over you.

Worked an hour on seventy-fifth glaze anyway, because I had to wait for a business meeting with M.

When flatware falls on the floor, old wives in the Philippines say:

--if it is a fork, a male visitor will arrive
--if it is a spoon, a female visitor will arrive.

However, the correct signs are:

--if it is a fork, a male, ancestor spirit has a message to convey
--if it is a spoon, a female, ancestor spirit has a message to convey
--if it is a knife, a male or female ancestor spirit is telling you be patient with your loved ones
--if it is a soup ladle, an ancestor spirit who is high in authority is admonishing you for something.

Angelique and Aubrey arrived from college and university respectively. They were in the same train coming home. Aubrey already had dinner out; Angelique ordered food for dinner.

Set up confections, clean drinking water, and lit candles for the Hungry Ghosts at the studio porch and in the small loggia.

Brought a plate of food to the compound security guard.

Time overtook me today. I was too engrossed in painting.

Worked an hour on seventy-fourth glaze.

Calling it a day for painting. Will resume tomorrow.

Worked half an hour on seventy-third glaze.

Tony Perez's Art of War: Whenever someone discredits you, note that everything goes to your credit and makes you a more interesting personality in the eyes of others.