THE SPIRITUALITY OF READING

In the latest issue of Sojourner magazine Nancy M. Malone, OSU, finds the act of reading as one of faith, of spirituality; in this feat she sees the need to be alone, in peace, in contemplation which the faithful summons while in the act of praying. For Malone, reading helps her to be her true self, the self that sees the world, others, herself.

If Marcel Proust's words can find its way in Malone's thoughts, then I am at peace. The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes, she quotes, and I cannot help but agree that in reading, in its full spirituality, the best thing we need is what is termed the eye of love.

Right now I can feel the stillness of time. In a stationary world, my mind takes a goodtrip in a journey piloted by the eye of love. Right now you can find me wandering from centuries back as I serve eyewitness to the discovery, erase that, to the invention of the New World as accounted for by the greatness of Alejo Carpentier's spiritual pen. The Harp & the Shadow is my current heaven and right now I am dying for you to be with me.

But that may not be fair, in view of your own exercise of faith.

So, fellow practicioner, I'll just throw in the spiritual question: what are you reading right now?

ON SONGS, SONGWRITING, WRITING, AND OTHER TOPICS (with apologies to James Rose, singer, songwriter, writer of many topics)

- On my way to work one day I heard over National Public Radio a haunting cover of Somewhere Over The Rainbow. The arrangement was very, very humble - only a ukulele accompanied the velvety texture of the singer's voice in a slightly reggaish tempo. But the song was played only as a gap filler, utilized to break the silence between a featured story and headline news, and as a result the singer and his cd were never identified. Time, effort, and Barnes & Noble's listening station came to the rescue; the cd turns out to be Facing Future by Hawaiian icon Iz Kamakawiwo 'Ole and the track I longed for was actually a medley of 2 songs - that, and (Louis Armstrong's) What A Wonderful World - a most beautiful rendition of two of my most favorite songs.

- There must be a hundred ways to compliment a songwriter, like a cool comment by another great songwriter; or by a classical arrangement of his song with full symphony orchestra; or through cover by an indigenous tribal singing group. A) In VH1's 100 Greatest songs of Rock N' Roll James Taylor named Bridge Over Troubled Water as his choice because, in his profound words, its lyrics are heroic. B) Lennon and McCartney had been honored so many times and one of them is via a cd of their best songs by (I believe) the London Symphony Orchestra. C) In a tribute to Jonnie Mitchell shown on tv many years back, there was this African group that performed her song You Turn Me On I'm A Radio and that single performance not only brought the entire music hall down but must have earned for Mitchell a fresh million fan-converts.

- Puerto Rican Esmeralda Santiago, in an interview, distinguished her reading from her writing in this wise: she reads because of the occassional need to turn her back from herself, and she writes because of the frequent need to be herself completely.

- I finally got me the soundtrack for The Motorcycle Diaries, and its final track, Al Otro Lado Del Rio, brings back memories of the movie. The song is played at the end of the film when credits are being shown, and not one in the moviehouse when I saw it moved much of a muscle until the last word was sung.

- The song was written and performed by Jorge Drexler, a name I wish could carve a niche in the world of music, at least in fairness to this one great song. Rema, rema, it quips, and as I listen to that song I contemplate on rowing, rowing, to the other side of my own river.

- Either the TMD's scriptwriter or Che Guevarra himself was wrong to write this on account of the motorcycle journey: "Wandering around our America has changed me more than I thought. I am not me anymore, at least I'm not the same as I was." If I were to react to this I would have said, On the contrary Mr. Guevarra, the more that you are you now because you have found yourself already.

- When I got Dave Matthews' solo cd Some Devil less than a year ago, I bet for the song Oh to be a huge hit. Was I wrong? If I played it only once and covered my ears I would never have heard of it. But I have played it a hundred times and never covered my ears, so I've heard it a hundred times. (In comparison, I've heard this stupid song Slow Motion For Me a million times and I wished I have enormous hands to completely devoid myself of hearing a million times.)

- In the book that classifies fins (cool) and decks (uncool), it is stated that decks are those who, among others, play Dave Matthews in their car stereo. Dang. And all the while I thought I was fin.

- I guess I am, even by a /100. Fins' poet of choice, the book says, is William Blake, who happens to be one of my poets of choice. Likewise I don't wear a 10-gallon hat nor walk around carrying an iguana, referred to as strong indications of a bona fide deck.

- Starbucks was selling Artists' Choice cds - and they had Sarah Mclachlan's choices one time I was there. This songwriter was obviously melancholic, not only evident from her songs but also on her choices of other artists' songs. Three of her picks are probably musicworld's saddest songs by saddest artists: Poses by Rufus Wainright, Secret Heart by Ron Sexsmith, and Right In Time by Lucinda Williams.

- James Joyce popularized the use of chiasm in modern literature. The title of this post is close to chiasmic, though not quite. If I were to illustrate the method, it should be this. Face the mirror and find from reality to reflection the following sequence: background, you, foreground, foreground, you, background. In Joyce's most famous last paragraph of his most famous novella The Dead, he used the method like no other, "...falling faintly...faintly falling..." for the simple chiasmic reason I hereto state - the soundness of literature begets the literature of sound.

- KD Lang's new cd 49th Parallel (or something) carries her version of the Neil Young classic After the Gold Rush, and she sounded like Rita Coolidge in peak form. Great a song it is, I still can't figure out what Young meant...Looking mother nature silver seed to a new home in the sun.
Young also said in that song that a friend told him something and he was hoping it was a lie. He never divulged what his friend told him. Wherefore we can never judge its truthfulness, poor thing.

- Finally, and without intending to turn off my good friend Jet David, her "snake comments" brought to mind this William Saroyan short story with the long title (I hope I remember this correctly now) Old Country Advice to Young Americans On How To Handle A Snake where the lead character, an Armenian (and assumingly an Arab) said to little kids playing a board game (wherein an arrow pointing to a snake gets a 10 point deduction) that in his hometown snakes were revered; that every proper family is not without proper snakes. On 2nd reading of the story one realizes the lead character to be the snake himself, from the 1st sentence describing him as gargoyle-faced, to his description of the movement of the snake in their own house, and to to his own movement when he leaves the house that resembles the movement of the snake. Timely, very timely, from the text, from between the text, (beginning with the title.) Timely, very timely.

- Chiasmic, eh!

HULING YUGTO, FINALLY, NITONG N.Y. STATE OF MIND

Sabi ni Alanis Morissette sa kantang So Pure...

You from New York
You are so relevant...

'Nay ko, hindi nga eh. 'Pano magiging relevant ang incognitong gaya ko. (Kaya incognito kasi incorrigibobo, kahiya.) Isa pa, ako, from New York? Hindi rin eh. Taga Pilipinas ako, born in ospital, bred in dasal, fed with pan de sal. Ermita, Manila ang kapanganakan. Manila Doctors. Nung iniluwal ako ni Inang, tumitig yung doktor sa kanya, tapos sinampal sya. "Why did you do this?", tanong sa kanya nung doktor sabay turo sa akin. "Uha-uha!", sabi ni Inang, sabay layo ng tingin sa akin.

Yung doktor na nanampal, andun sya ngayon sa basement ng ospital, sya ang sinasampal-sampal, eng-eng-eenng! Yung subject ng kanyang ridicule, andun na, sa United States of New York, nangungulit, naglalakbay, naglalakad sa Riverside at gustong maligo sa Hudson, tumutuligsa sa opresyon, binabantayan ang kanyang presyon, pumipila sa Gray's Papaya for espesyal-de-resesyon; tumatambay sa Village, umiinom-inom, umiiling-iling, napapalingon sa iskandalosong pagtawa ni David Lee Roth (har-har, might well as jump!..jump!); naghahanap ng alternative band, naghuhukay ng libro sa Strand, nag-aantay sa sale ng kapitalistang namebrand; nanonood sa Broadway, mas maganda sa Off Broadway, maigi din daw sa Off Off Broadway; minemaintain ang tact, ineeksamin kung utak ay intact, pumila rin para sa Contact (may mga Pinoy sa ensemble, obvious from the Playbill: I wish to thank Him, and Ate Bining, Uncle Popoy, my mom and dad without whom I will never be here, on earth, onstage, awomen to dat!), ngumangasab sa Penang, binibisita si Manang, pagnatalo ang Giants nagmumura anak ng...!

Sige po, asa inyo na yun kung gusto nyo akong tawaging Fil-New Yorker kahit di angkop sa magkabilang panig, aakuin ko na lang yung gitna, ako yung - , yung hyphen, parang Walt Whitman sa Song of Myself at sasabihin kong I am both the object and the subject of whatever(sa mga matitinik dyan, wag nyo kong diskursuhin, di ko alam ang pinagsasabi koh!)

Sa simbahan nung isang araw lumabas ako kasi boring si Father, ngawa sya ng ngawa sa homily, nagbasa na lang ako nung magasin na may tula ni Thomas Lynch tungkol sa tawag ng kaparian, ng bokasyon, title nya e "Calling", ramdam ko tuloy para akong tinatawag dahil meron akong calling-calling, sabi da sa tula -

...as it was with Noah, build an ark
or Abram, prove your faith, man, kill your boy
or Moses, so you're thirsty, smite the rock
or Job, out of the whirlwind, gird your loins...

- na ang pagkakaisip ko sa tula, di lang bokasyon kundi rin NY yung nagco-calling, parang tawag ni Mang Thomas, sarsa ng lechon.

...as it was with Nuuu Yawwk, build a Central Paahk

anlakas kasi ng tawag nya, "Magpakatatag ka, kaya mo akong harapin, palakasin mo ang sampalataya, sikwatin mo ang pagkabata, magpakalalaki ka!!!"

magsumikap ka, tingnan mo si Grandma Moses, sumikat (teka, taga NY ba sya?)

at si Job, asan na si Job?, here in New York I need a job!!!
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Mabubuhay ang incorrigibobo sa New York (andami nga nila e) kasi tolerant sya. Actually, hindi tolerance ang term. Wala lang syang pakialam basta kung ano dapat mong gawin, gawin mo. Kung dapat mong gupitin ang daliri nung isang tumiwalag sa kasamaan, gupitin mo.

Sumakay ka sa elevator ng kahit anong commercial building sa Midtown Manhattan, siguro between 5th and 8th Avs. Posible na lahat ng kasakay mo sa elevator, puro bilyonaryo. O kaya, lahat sila me AIDS. At this day and age, posible rin (kaya?) na lahat sila, bilyonaryong me AIDS. The point is, pare-pareho lang kayong sumasakay ng elevator, sabi ni Zafra na igan ni Tol Jobert, pre-preho lang kayong umuutot.

Me isang dalagita, sampu ang hilang aso sa kalye. Andami nyang alaga, ano Ate? Buti hindi sya naghihirap sa pagpapakain dyan, mukang puro isnabero yung mga aso? Hindi, sagot ni Ate, kumikita pa nga sya e, yan ang day job nya, dogsitter, dogsitting, a million dollar industry in Manhattan. Gulp, lunok ko, twinggg, me kumililing sa utak ko. Dogsitter, hmmm, this is a job for cbsuperman! Tapos, maya maya umetat yung isa sa mga aso. Nood-nood si dogsitter, nakangiti pa. Tapos naglabas ng plastic, nilinis si etat kaya parinig sa akin ni Ate: 1st objective of a dog-sitter - to clean up after themselves. Hmmm, naalala ko si Art Borjal with his expression, que aso, ano pa kaya iba puwede trabaho, wakanga...
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Napansin nyo ba yang naglalabasan ngayon na Pinoy pride issue? Mga forwarded e-mails na nagsasabing, let's all be proud of being Pinoys. Mga Pinoy bloggers na pinagmumura yung isang Fil-Am blogger for asking why Pinoys possess such pride. Parang biglang-bigla ata, o kaya bat ngayon lang, nung araw, di ba uso yung Pinoy pride? Si Bb. Evangelista ba ang catalyst? O parang kabute lang yung pride na yun, kahit di naman nag-uuulan ngayon.

Tanda ko bago kami lumipad patungo dito, nag-sponsor ang Dept. of Foreign Affairs ng isang orientation sa mga would-be immigrants. Sabi nung speaker sa kanyang pagtatapos (bata pa, mga early 20s siguro): Bear this in mind, ladies and gentlemen, that in America, whatever you do, whoever you are, however much you achieve, in the eyes of Americans, you are still a 2nd class citizen.

Aba e mas incorrigibobs pa pala sa akin tong gagong to. Ito yung Pinoy non-pride, government-declared pa! Nung una parang basa ko ke bobs, gusto nya talagang sabihin, Buti pa kayo paalis na, ako andito pa din dakdak ng dakdak, teka nga, aliisin ko nga yang rose-colored glasses nyo baka umasenso kayo, imbes na sabihin ko...Go Pinoy, you can make it anywhere, raise our color, Pinoy-rock the world...sasabihin ko na lang, Hoy mga ungas, wag kayong masyadong bumilib sa sarili nyo, kasi sa mata ng Amerkano, ikalawang uri lang kayo, never na maging una, hmp, jan na nga kayoh!

Pinoy pride in Manhattan? Ah, ayos lang yun, o dapat lang yun, kasi ikaw, Mama-Aleng Fil-NYorker, di ka pumayag na lamunin ka ng Manhattan, lumaban ka, nagsikap ka, nadedepress ka nga pag winter pero natiis mo, sanay ka naman sa pagtitiis, kinalakhan mo, tinanggap mo kahit anong trabaho, tulo-uhog, pero 2nd class, ahh never, di mo inisip yun, (actually di mo nga nakita yun o naramdaman sa Manhattan eh), basta alam mo desente ang trabaho mo, di ka nakikialam sa iba, mabilis ang lakad mo, sabi mo sa sarili mo- Dito sa Manhattan, itaas mo ang iyong ulo, Pilipinong walang kibo!

Ayannn, nag Nu-New York State of Mind ka na.
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Mamang Jungian, travelogue nga po to. Pero dahil taliwas sa format, tawagin na lang natin syang trablog. O tuloy ko, ha, para matapos na, naasar na rin ako.

Tanong sa akin ni Kwatog na tubong Cinco-Hermanos...Ano sa yo ang pinaka-quintessential NY novel, movie, tv show, short story, and song?

Sa konting dumaan sa senses ko, eto siguro: Novel: Pwedeng magtalo ang Invisible Man ni Ralph Ellison tsaka Catcher In The Rye ni Salinger. Yung Invisible, dala nung bida sa NY ang blackman from the South sensibilities nya, pero sa Catcher, dala nung bida ang feeling loser nya. Kaya mas malungkot. Mas New York, the more melancholic, the more New Yorky.

Movie: Nabihag ng Eyes Wide Shut ni Kubrick ang buhay New York in this sense: adventurous at claustrophobic. Pero dahil mga mayayaman ang characters, di masyado nacapture ang Nuyorikana. Breakfast at Tiffany's? Hmmm, Manhattan ni Woody Allen, hmmm...sa Taxi Driver ni Scorsese, ramdam ang feeling of derangement ng mga NYorker. Parang breaking point yung iba, gusto ka nalang tanungin ng katabi mo sa tren, You talking to me, R U talking to me?!! NaYko! And the winner is: After Hours ni Scorsese ulit. New York na New York, Sohong-Soho, from beginning to end. Yung computer nung bida na nag-welcome sa kanya sa opisina the day after his hellish night, yun mismo ang New York sa akin, parang sinasabi sa karakter ni Griffin Dunne, Ayos ba bos, ginudtime lang naman kita kagabi. Maniwala ka, totoo ito: sa pelikula, karakter lang ni Dunne ang normal. Sa New York, minsan ang pakiramdam mo ikaw lang ang normal.

TV Show: Ano pa e di Moonlighting.

Short Story: Okay sana yung The Way We Live Now ni Susan Sontag (na quintessential New York intellectual leftist) kung saan bawat sentence, ibang pangalan ang binabanggit, parang laro nung bata tayo na Message Relay, pinasa ni ganto kay ganun yung message na masama ang pakiramdam ni Max, para silang mga bubuyog at pinag-uusapan ang sakit ni Max, AIDS yata. But then, mas New York ang Psycho ni Tana Jamowitz, mula opening scene na binangga sya ng isang kotse, pinagmumura pa sya ng driver, tapos sa bahay inaattitude sya nung live-in boyfriend nya kasi panned ng critics ang painting nya. Sus ginoo, so very NY, that.

Finally, song. But only because NY is classical and jazz music, isang violin o isang sax katalo na, nominado ko yung kanta ni Adam Duritz ng Counting Crows na Chelsea..."I never go to NewYork City these days, there's something about the buildings in Chelsea that kills me..." Oh men, bawat kataga ni Duritz, lumalabas ang NY sensibility sa ilong nya nung kinanta nya to sa VH1 Storytellers. Iisipin ng iba, NYNY ni Frank Sinatra. Uh, owkay, but not really. Medyo Broadwayish, formulaic, not really New Yorky, who, me typical? Tapos sabi... top of the heap daw. Naman. Sa ibabaw ng basura? On top of a solid mass of granite nga ang Manhattan kaya kahit kelan di bubuka ang lupa. Although tama ng konti yung kanta na NYC is a city that never sleeps. Me insomnia kasi, ayun haggard tuloy sya. Pero sa huli may tatalo pa ba sa title pa lang nung great Billy Joel song...

It comes down to reality
And it's fine cause I've let it slide
I don't care if its chinatown or on Riverside
I don't have any reasons I left them all behind
I'm in a New York state of mind

Curtains Down. Lights On. Wynton Marsalis on the air.

Hanggang dito na lang po.

Bow.