Autumn Works.

I'll be tumbling down and forth
In the piled leaves of autumn,
In the backyard lot

At night,

Like 'am a child of five.

I'll be howling at the dogs
And squinting at the cats
Be chasing the squirrels
And swearin' at the park.

I'm descending into childhood
In this quick, quick, quick step
My breath out of sync

My giggles couldn't stop.

I'm stupidly happy
I'm crazily mad
I've no explaining to do
I'm just out of my mind.

Blame it on the autumn

This cascading into bottom

Blame it on somethin'

Maybe the wild rum or beer

I'm just crazily a- glee

No matter what matters now

I'm ready to be

No matter what it'll be.

Ready and Able.

How long has it been since I last cuddled my dog, Shadow (aka Spike)? Almost three months ago.

My sis from Ohio, Shadow's original Mom and owner, called to say 'Hi," and to ask when I will pick up the mini-pin. Actually, my bro-in-law to whom I've given temporary custody, was the one eagerly asking.

Apparently, Shadow, has been messing up their house, peeing where he shouldn't pee. But sis was quick to add that it is bro-in-law who's been spoiling Shadow.

So by American Thanksgiving, I'd be picking up my charge. I'm ready and able. It will be back to good 'ol days for me and for Shadow. Back to early morning and late afternoon walks.

But now that autumn is so upon us here in TO, I'm beginning to worry about the cooool mornings and evenings. Some days, Shadow would have to make do (pee and poo) in the balcony. Unless I can toilet train him.

Yet in the past, I've toilet trained him already. I placed his daytime "sleeping quarters" by the foot of the TV set (it was a dog sleeping basket with a huge blanket) and a big rug underneath it. So if it was emergency, Shadow peed on the rug and at the corner of the basket. If his emergency occurred an hour or so before morning walking time, he'd pee in the balcony, at the foot of the grocery cart where a thick pile of newspaper had been piled up.

What I cannot tame is Shadow's bravado. He's twenty something by dog age, so he's raring to experiment and ready to love and be loved. And sorry, I don't want him "fixed."

Whirlwind.

When it comes, not even Batman nor Superman could prevent it.

Like the recent Typhoon Ondoy, it could bring devastation or miraculous moments.

A Time for Us.

When I got news that my Mother died, it was almost 12:32 p.m. and I just finished a business meeting. It was a matter-of-fact text from a brother in law. He sent it to a niece, too. There was no pre-warning, no hello to prepare the recipient for the worst news. My younger sister phoned me a little later with a prepared pre-news spiel but I told her I got the news already.

Life is like that a lot of times. It does not prepare you for the good or bad times. It just happens.

Death, divorce, disaster, disappearance. Or maybe on the good side, lotto winning, love requited, loss reversed. These things didn't happen to me personally; some did. These are just examples of how people can be jolted out, happily or sadly.

After recent happenings in my life and around me, I am now more convinced than ever, a solid believer in "happenstance, serendipity and randomness."

There's a time for grieving and a time for rejoicing. There's a time for questioning and a time for reckoning. There's a time for anger and a time for healing. There's a time for pride and a time for humility. There's a time for love and a time for parting. There's a time for silence and a time for communication. There's a time for a tear and a time for a smile. There's always a time for love.

There's a time for us.

You're Being Processed.

LEFT - Where are the good times? Tommy Boy (+) and J-Lo were getting used to each other and then..


I got to Detroit's Wayne Airport at around 12:08 pm (Nov 16th). But my clock was still set to Narita time zone so I was a bit confused and thought I'd be late for my connecting flight to Toronto which was supposed to board at 1:20 pm.

I kept glancing at my watch while in the long queue of people being processed at the Port of Entry in Detroit. My watch read 2:20 pm. Then I asked the guy infront of me if he's got the local time. Yes he did. It was quarter to 1:00 pm.

So I had 35 minutes to clear Immigration and to run to Gate 26 for my connecting flight.

Arriving at a Port Of Entry in any place in the globe gives me an eerie feeling. I don't know why or what it is, but I have this weird feeling that I'm in a "temporary holding zone" where there's no specific time , it's neither day or night - just a zombie-like state where one is stamped on the head and declared fit and told to " go and live and forget your own body mass and time memories you've just been through. " It's like being back from the future.

It was good Canadians didn't have to be fingerprinted nor photographed, so it took all 2 minutes for me to clear Immigration. But I had to retrieve my luggage and re-check them and to be retrieved again at the Pearson International in Toronto.

I'm finally home.

I immediately checked the balcony and found J-Lo (aka Ugly Betty, the budgie) alone at the floor of the cage. Now that Tommy Boy is gone, J-Lo is back to being lonely.

Oh, What a Feeling!

My trip to Manila has come to its end.  Like Hilary Clinton, I'm leaving Manila.  Tomorrow, Monday, the 16th, I'm flying home to Toronto.  It is a "mind boggling" visit.  

First, it is the longest vacation I've ever taken since I left the homeland, except for the two-year stay in 2000-2002.  Two months and twelve days to be exact. 

Second, the circumstances of the visit are different.  It is not R & R.  It is a very personal journey.  I came to visit a mother who was seriously ill and who died three days before I was supposed to leave.

And on a higher and first-order level, I was seeking to unite with the Moon and the stars.

Third, Nature intervened.  Typhoon "Ondoy" swooped into Manila.  The Planets and the moon got disturbed and perturbed and left me wondering.  Maybe forever. 

The days became hazied.  I could not look ahead.  Like a conked-out car, my headlights got smashed, my rearview mirror fell off, my brakes faltered, my engine stalled. 

I got lost.  And I didn't even know where I took the wrong turn. My map and my itinerary were blown off...so suddenly. 

It is the eve of my departure.  Three days before my departure, I busily went out with various relatives.

Went to concert at the Captain's Bar in Mandarin to catch RJ Jacinto and Hadji Alejandro last Nov. 12, then on the 13th, nephew Alan invited me for dinner and night at the Metro Bar, and last night my three sisters and families checked out Conway at the Shangri La where the band Rock Revival provided good music.

Today was spent doing last minute packing; I didn't watch the Pacquiao and Cotto fight.

I'm sure I'd fall asleep the minute the plane takes off from the NAIA tomorrow morning.  I hope the weather would be beautiful for the take off.

Goodbye to all and you, have a pleasant dream.  

Not so current events.

During and post- interment family "unwinding."


Wonder of wonders. Whenever I'm in Manila, I suddenly lose interest in international politics.  Like now, Hilary Clinton is visiting Manila, and I just nod in remembrance that I have admired this Lady for a long time. I was rooting for her bid for the US Presidency during the last primary. 

Whatever happens to me in Manila that I lose touch with the outside world is explainable. Overload.

Too many relatives and loved ones who give attention to me and I give attention to.  Much food to ingest.

Too mess a traffic that eats time and robs you of moment to watch newscasts.  Too many Tagalog soaps that tie up the TV and prevent you from switching to CNN or BBC or lest you get choked by the other occupants of the house; or you yourself glance at "Sandino" from time to time. 

Then there's the useless but funny chit chat with siblings reminishing about childhood follies and life in the ancient times.  

And of course, you suddenly become enamored reading and watching about Erap, Gibo, Ate Glo, Chiz, Korina and Mar and Mr. Noynoy.  The sudden nationalismo makes you want to adopt dual citizenship. 

Then you hear music blasting out of the radio tuned in to DZRJ - music from the distant past of your teens and early adulthood - from the 70's and 80's: I Will Survive, Buttercup, You Know, Flying High, There's a Kind of Hush, more songs from the Beatles, Dave Clark Five, RJ and so on.  It's Manila memories all over.

So pardon me if I'm not interested in Wolf of CNN and Charles Gibson of ABC nor of Leno and Letterman

and Everybody Loves Raymond replays, and of Easy Rock radio in TO.

My current events now are not so current anymore.