Good Friday evening on the studio porch

The greatest fun I had before retirement was as program officer for the Ambassador's Fund for Cultural Preservation. Among the projects I handled for the Embassy, in cooperation with the National Museum of the Philippines and the National Commission for Culture and the Arts, were the restoration of the baptistery and twin pillars of the Saint Vincent Ferrer Church in Dupax del Sur; the restoration of the altar and pulpit of Lazi Church in Siquijor; the ICOMOS conference on the conservation of the Banawe Rice Terraces; the conservation of mummies in the Kabayan Mummy Caves, in Benguet; the cataloguing of the Tabon Caves on Lipuun Point, Palawan; the restoration of the Panglao Watchtower in Bohol; the restoration of Malagonlong Bridge in Tayabas, Quezon; the documentation of Ifugao oral traditions (hudhud and alim), also in Banawe; the conservation of San Sebastian Church; and the restoration of the four murals by National Artist Carlos "Botong" Francisco in the lobby of Philippine General Hospital. There were a few more plus two others that I handed over to my successor before I retired that I no longer recall.

My exploration of heritage sites in the Philippines opened my eyes to great damage that fundamentalist Christians and missionaries did to destroy indigenous culture. It also allowed me to meet most interesting persons and gave me some of the richest material for my creative writing. My cyberspace novel Cubao Ilalim: Ikalawang Aklat, for example, resulted from my visits to Bohol (including a creative writing workshop I conducted there). It can be read at http://tonyperezphilippinescyberspacebook37.blogspot.com/. I hope you do and I hope you have fun doing so.

My work inspired others to take up graduate studies in Archaeology. I did not follow suit. Archaeology is a lot of hard work, perspiration under the hot sun, and the inability to be well-dressed. I was too engrossed having fun. Besides, I have always been an end-user, a collector, and, while enjoying my retirement, I prefer to have antique dealers come to me and bring me their ware.

Reread one more chapter from _Necklace and Calabash_, then sat with Aubrey while she had a late lunch in the dining room.

Worked half an hour on fourth layer.

It is always better to have an excuse to have fun rather than have an excuse to suffer.

Worked half an hour on third layer.

Third and fourth cups very black, Moccona espresso.

Delighted to see that at least two hawkers' stands are open for business today.

Good morning, Cubao!

The clouds are pillows made of white marshmallow.

Dinner at home with Aubrey.

Retouched second layer, but now calling it a day for painting. Will resume tomorrow. Hoping that tomorrow will also be peaceful and uneventful in the neighborhood.

Now that Asia's Got Talent's third season is over, I can follow NCIS: New Orleans more closely again.

Never call your ID neck strap a lanyard. A lanyard ties you securely to an object, such as a lanyard that ties your hand to the handle of a chopping knife.

If you call your ID neck strap a lanyard, you unwittingly allow yourself to be treated by the bureaucracy as an object, and you allow yourself to be tied like a slave to the section you work for.

Wearing my silver.

Abstaining from gold.

Worked an hour on second layer.

Worked an hour on first layer.

The tragedy about recycling plastic is that it leads to the production of even more plastic.

Angelique, J., and J.'s family visit the hanging coffins.

What a relief that, even on Maundy Thursday, the neighborhood burger stand and shawarma stand are open.

It's called business acumen.

Our house used to be completely Western. Only when we changed everything to Filipiniana and Asian art, 30 years ago, did our home really feel like a home, and only then also did foreign visitors admire it.

I can sympathize with the foreign visitors. There is nothing so dismaying to them as walking into Filipinos' "American" houses, "Italian" churches, or "French" ateliers.

They tell the atchays to pray and not just visit churches, but see for yourself that they are always promoting their churches like tourist spots.

The sun is a blazing piece of coal in the fire pit of the universe.

Good morning, Cubao!

Slept nine hours last night.

The house was pleasantly warm today, and it is tonight as well, the kind of warmth that gives you a loving embrace and makes you want to sit in the most comfortable chair and enjoy it for hours.

Dinner at home alone. Angelique and J in Sagada, Aubrey out with friends in Eastwood, R. in Palawan. Of course M. and Michael are in the cafe (the cafe is open through Easter Sunday). Feeling single and living like a bachelor all over again, but I'll just read and watch TV instead of going to the center and watching the lines of passengers at the busport. Or instead of going shopping.

Incidentally, that is my Cubao quirk--when crowds come from other parts of the metropolis to line up in Cubao (for concerts, for basketball games, at the busport, etc.), I go there, sit on a bench, and watch them.

Sent some food over to Michael.

Angelique sends us a shot of the rice terraces in Sagada.

Lunch at home alone, Aubrey still resting upstairs.

Nobody likes Black Forest ice cream because of the cherry flavor. Like Coke Cherry, it tastes like cough syrup and brings back unpleasant memories.

In the meantime Angelique, J., and J.'s family just arrived at Sagada.

Good morning, Cubao!

The sunbeams project a medieval shadow play on the frosted glass panes.

Wondering whether the Catholic pabasa could have been inspired by the Islamic call to mosque.

The way atchays, after being wowed by a fabulous production, get together and produce "something like it".

The way illiterate mages, after being wowed by Catholic, liturgical rituals, get together and work pidgin Latin into their oraciones.

The way competition participants, after being impressed by previous competition participants, perform the exact same thing with little twists and turns of their own.

I believe in conservation and preservation but NOT ALWAYS in restoration because:

--Anything restored is never the same or as good as the original, even if it is allegedly better
--Sometimes it is the angel with the flaming sword who is sent to destroy material things, but we refuse to see it.

Moseyed over to the neighborhood grocery.

At last, the studio area is dazzlingly bright again.

Will resume painting tomorrow, though. Judge Dee calls.

Happy Birthday, Christine Ignacio!

Your birthday messages, as you requested:

1) Look at the bright side, then the dark side, then the bright side several times more.

2) When you extend support to others, others extend support to you.

3) Be very selective about the male company you keep.

Nothing lasts forever, but whatever lasts in my lifetime for my love, pleasure, and enjoyment is very good enough for me.

Not all truth is academic truth, and not all academic truth is truth.

Back from jalan-jalan at the center. Bought a ceiling bulb and installation stuff.

Boy is now installing a new socket and bulb on the ceiling of the studio area.

The judges of cooking competitions have cheap trump cards up their sleeves. They tell participants who serve traditional food, "You should have gone bold and brought it to the edge", and participants who go bold and bring the food to the edge, "I wanted something more traditional".

Seven of my paintings from the collection titled Nightwalker will be on view at Maryhill School of Theology April 25 and 26, 2019 as part of the Festival of Catholic Social Teaching in the Philippines. Come if you can.

The sun is a ring of fire with iron spokes.

Good morning, Cubao!

Slept nine hours last night. It seemed like the dawn and early morning air was charged with a strong soporific.

Dinner at home with Aubrey.

Angelique and J. are taking their dinner upstairs later.

Bought haluhalo for Aubrey at the hawkers' center.

My younger son Chito visited, on his day off.

Now I need to replace the studio area ceiling light before proceeding with my painting, but it's just too hot for me to go out and buy one. Might continue rereading Necklace and Calabash instead.

Lunch at home with Aubrey.

Then worked half an hour on construction lines.

Worked half an hour on construction lines.

You may know exactly what is good for others, but it is futile to tell them how to live their lives.

Easter week begins. In the sweltering heat.

Good morning, Cubao!

The sun is a gold ring on a mage's forefinger.

Dead Kitten

Cats have been figuring in my pre-Easter week. First MauMau, and then this.

I walked over to the neighborhood grocery tonight and came upon this dead kitten lying on the pavement. It looked as though a vehicle had hit it, and that a kind person lifted it from the street and laid it out on the side.

Dead Kitten

Dead baby
Mouth still open, having released its final mewl
Was it, "Mother, save me!" Or "Mother, here is my end!
No more sweet milk that gave me life
Days prancing in the dazzling sunshine
Nights in the embrace of your warm body
Ah but I dreamed of living in a house as well
Cosseted by children, draped on a writer's lap
While he wrote of marvels unimaginable to other men!"

Baby cat
Another kind of man came to you tonight
Before I could tell you there are men who love
And men who do not love, and those men kill

Dinner at home with Angelique and Aubrey.

Sarciado is an interesting casserole. The hawkers concoct it with fried tilapia that didn't get sold the previous day.

The sky above Cubao is now tented with sheets of heat clouds as fine as white gauze. They filter the afternoon sunlight and anticipate filtering rain that never comes.

When a dream shatters, first try to fix it before replacing it with another dream.

If you must have a new dream, ensure that it is:

--realistic
--morally acceptable
--beneficial to all concerned
--open to the rehabilitation of the old dream.

I love every phase of painting--all the way from priming, construction lines, layering, glazing, to varnishing.

There are even more phases in building a house. If there is any one phase you do not love, the entire project will be a disaster.

Grade school teachers are the first to inculcate envy in their students by comparing them with one another in the name of academic achievement.

And, inside the faculty room, they subconsciously compare themselves with one another in the names of beauty, salary, good housing, and a happy family life.

In the summer, when dusk begins to fall on the district of Cubao, the trees turn a shade of olive green against a sky of old rose. That enchanted transition lasts but a few seconds, for, when you look again, the trees become as black as cut-outs by Lotte Reiniger against a steel-gray sky.

Remember this, that it is exactly when your lighter is running out of fluid that everyone on earth will want to borrow it.

Tree spirits do not like candles, joss sticks, and incense. They do like grain offerings such as uncooked rice, green pea, mung bean, and corn strewn round their bases. Allow the birds and the insects to carry them off into their lairs, for they are the heralds of the tree spirits.

There are times when all I want to eat is ginisa topped on rice. When foreigners ask me what that is, I say that it is nothing more than a loose, wet omelette.

When clouds become ripe with the first rain of April, all shadows disappear, and the house takes on a distinct, enchanted feel.

Allow everyone to play video games online, for it is boredom, not poverty, that is the frequent cause of crime.

Swept the driveway beside our house, then spent an hour on the studio porch.

Found another ceramic jar from my senior high school days and placed it beside the ceramic vase already located there. I converted the jar to a paraffin oil lamp several years ago.

Flavored my ice-cold, drinking water with a few drops of Aubrey's cranberry juice.

And oh, MauMau the compound cat was conspicuously absent today. He must have business elsewhere.

One-hour, afternoon nap.

Angelique and J. are now having lunch out and doing groceries.

Sat with Aubrey while she was taking her lunch in the dining room.

Worked an hour on construction lines.

Lunch alone. Everyone else is still sleepjng or resting upstairs.

Commenced construction lines.

El Nino is a random season for cats such as MauMau the compound cat.

When I was still living as a bachelor, perhaps 30 years ago, I had Persian, Siamese, and local cats. One of them, a great, big tabby, used to curl round the glowing hot stove whenever there was something cooking there. My sister Alice would get alarmed and think that its fur would burn, but it was very clever and simply wanted all that heat coursing through its bones.

Bought some food at the hawkers' center.

Still a day of extreme heat. Anyone walking in this scorching sunshine will know what it feels like to be burned at the stake.

Worked an hour on underpainting.

Started rereading Necklace and Calabash, one of my favorite Judge Dee novels, yesterday afternoon. 

Good morning, Cubao!

The sun is a yellow diamond pendant round the neck of the sky.

Dinner with Angelique, Aubrey, and J.

Finished rereading The Chinese Maze Murders. Thinking of rereading Necklace and Calabash next.

It's been hours, and MauMau is still wallowing in the afternoon heat.

Aubrey and R. took a late lunch in the dining room.

Spent an hour writing on the studio porch, then finished priming the canvas on the easel.

This naughty compound cat, attracted by the scent of Cerefina's dinner, once sneaked into our house, and R. and I had to chase it away. It has never come in ever since, but it loves lolling in the space between the studio porch and the small loggia, as though it were now guarding our house. The compound children sometimes stroke it, which it seems to like. It has a name, I heard the children call it MauMau.

Took an 11:30 AM lunch. Angelique took her lunch an hour later.

Started priming the canvas on the easel.

And then there will be tornadoes.

Today's heat is designed to kill you.

In order to survive, invite undines into your home.

Never buy lamps that light up and shut off by pulling ball chains. They are difficult to repair.

One-hour, mid-morning nap.

Set up a piece of canvas on an easel. I hope to prime it very soon.

Good morning, Cubao!

The sun hangs abaca bunting shot with golden threads across the sky.

I did not schedule night classes two nights ago but people came.

Now it is dawn and an hour before sunrise, and I had barely two hours of sleep. I'd been seeing images of three persons from the year I was 14, though they were persons I hardly knew. One of them was a man named Julio. He must have been 21 when I was 14.

Whenever I see images of persons from the past I know that they are dying. Sometimes they are celebrities I never met, sometimes they are absolute strangers.

But, I have already stopped wondering why.

There is really no such thing as "hardly knowing" anyone. Though there are gazillions of us in the spirit world, we meet one another, as swiftly as meeting one another in cyberspace, before reincarnating in yet another lifetime. As soon as we reincarnate we become focused on the people in our immediate karmic group and conveniently forget about those whom we mingled with prior to our reincarnation. Yet, that astral connection continues to exist. That is why kindred spirits in our past become absolute strangers in any chosen lifetime. 

Dinner at home with Aubrey and J.

Jalan-jalan at the center with Aubrey. Changed money for the weekend, had cold drinks at the Cubao Leaky Cauldron, and brought Aubrey to the family dentist's, where R. will meet up with her later. They will do groceries before coming hone.

Caught myself rushing homeward after--the very behavior I would have manifested had I work the following day--then realized that I'm retired and time is at my command. Did some window shopping, figured out how the center rearranged the Bridgeway from Farmers Plaza to Gateway, bought three scandalously flamboyant hair ties, then walked home.

The Dwarves are playing ninepins on the Cubao Catskills once again.

Midnight on a hot, summer night. I step out of my bedroom and everything inside the house exudes its sweet, unique scent in the cloying heat: paper from books and notebooks, the residue of oil from aromatherapy lamps, sandalwood from Chinese altar statues, perfume from orchids and their leaves on a side porch, rose and white magnolia joss sticks in burners, leather, polished brass, a hint of detergent. All of these are voices, olfactory voices if you will, each one reciting stories and memories of their histories and of the joy they are brimming with just to be in your house with you and your family. 

Lunch alone, then Aubrey arrived from her P.E. class. We are going jalan-jalan later. She needs to go back to the family dentist's to have her braces tightened and do groceries.

The problem with cottage industries that recycle plastic is that they will need more and more plastic to recycle.

Take the bull by the horns and incinerate all that plastic.

Good noon, Cubao!

The clouds are wedges of coconut pie.

They had a vehicular tragedy because, years ago, they liked pretending to run over people in the streets.

Now they will never drive again.

Know when you are able to sit back and tell yourself that there is nothing more you want.

You can do this as often as you like so long as you discount everything that is out of your control.

Know satisfaction, and know happiness.

Every week, have an object to use for deep contemplation.

The desperate will always try to negotiate for everything they can possibly get.

Tony Perez's Art of War: Never give things to others indiscriminately. They will always come back for more.

Four or five years ago I gave Margie a pair of small, Japanese dolls. They were the figures of an old man and an old woman. They were holding a broom and a rake in their hands.

Every afternoon I sweep dead leaves and flowers off the driveway beside our house and place them in a trash bag. Whenever I do that I think of that pair of Japanese dolls and the serene looks on their faces. I do so love sweeping the driveway beside the house as I love washing dishes. The former exercises my back muscles, the latter, my abdominal muscles. Both, to me, are centering activities.

Spent an hour on the studio porch.

This fiberglass, TinTin poster, a gift from Kay from her travel to Vietnam, adds a touch of eclecticism to the writing desk. I like placing objects I like in my line of vision when I am sitting down, relaxing, or just resting.

Vernissage: _Portrait of Dana Lam_ (Oil on unstretched canvas)

Lunch at home alone.

Now waiting for a delivery.

Good morning, Cubao!

The sun sows seeds of fire in the parched earth.

Tried M.'s sliced pork dish with saffron rice and a vegetable salad. Quite good.

You can suffer a heat stroke even if you are not in direct sunlight.