Tuesday, September 27, 2011

The Master Speed

by Robert Frost

No speed of wind or water rushing by
But you have speed far greater. You can climb
Back up a stream of radiance to the sky,
And back through history up the stream of time.
And you were given this swiftness, not for haste
Nor chiefly that you may go where you will,
But in the rush of everything to waste,
That you may have the power of standing still—
Off any still or moving thing you say.
Two such as you with such a master speed
Cannot be parted nor be swept away
From one another once you are agreed
That life is only life forevermore
Together wing to wing and oar to oar.

Para kay V, na laging handang tumigil

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Upward-beating heart, hay Rilke

from Letters to a Young Poet

Most people have (with the help of conventions) turned their solutions toward what is easy and toward the easiest side of the easy; but it is clear that we must trust in what is difficult; everything alive trusts in it, everything in Nature grows and defends itself any way it can and is spontaneously itself, tries to be itself at all costs and against all opposition. We know little, but that we must trust in what is difficult is a certainty that will never abandon us; it is good to be solitary, for solitude is difficult; that something is difficult must be one more reason for us to do it.

     It is also good to love: because love is difficult. For one human being to love another human being: that is perhaps the most difficult task that has been entrusted to us, the ultimate task, the final test and proof, the work for which all other work is merely preparation. That is why young people, who are beginners in everything, are not yet capable of love: it is something they must learn. With their whole being, with all their forces, gathered around their solitary, anxious, upward-beating heart, they must learn to love. But learning-time is always a long, secluded time, and therefore loving, for a long time ahead and far on into life, is: solitude, a heightened and deepened kind of aloneness for the person who loves. Loving does not at first mean merging, surrendering, and uniting with another person (for what would a union be of two people who are unclarified, unfinished, and still incoherent?), it is a high inducement for the individual to ripen, to become something in himself, to become world, to become world in himself for the sake of another person; it is a great, demanding claim on him, something that chooses him and calls him to vast distances. Only in this sense, as the task of working on themselves ("to hearken and to hammer day and night"), may young people use the love that is given to them. Merging and surrendering and every kind of communion is not for them (who must still, for a long, long time, save and gather themselves); it is the ultimate, is perhaps that for which human lives are as yet barely large enough.

-Rainier Maria Rilker, May 14, 1904

Friday, September 16, 2011

How to say it in Pastiche

I see us in the park,
Strolling the summer days in the imaginings in my head.

In the evening when the day is through,
Summer breeze, makes me feel fine,
Blowing through the jasmine on my mind.

You keep your rights, I'll take your nights
No one can lose when we take the lights out.

Let's start with the ABC of it,
Roll right down to the XYZ of it,
Teach me tonight.

Aye, aye,
Teach me how to dougie,
Teach me, teach me how to dougie.

Then one by one, the stars would all go out.
Then you and I would simply fly away.

I may be climbing on rainbows, but here it goes,
And if you're wondering what this song is leading to,
I want to make it with you.

Knocks me off my feet - Stevie Wonder
Summer breeze - Seals & Crofts
Sweet surrender - Bread
Teach me tonight - Dinah Washington
Teach me how to Dougie - California Swag District
If -Bread
Make it with you - Bread

Dahil kailangan talaga bawat personal blog ay pagdadaanan ang cheesy lyrics na post.
(♫ All my bitches love me,
All my, all my bitches love me,
You ain't fuckin' with my dougie)

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Short musings

You know what, I'm at a point in my young life where all's good. It's far from perfect, definitely. Uncertainties old and new may be creeping up at times (numerous, actually), I'm still messed-up as everyone else is, but I am getting more of these quiet moments when I could honestly say to myself jeesuz, I'm fine (so relax and stop whining). Well, I admit part of it is because of a certain somebody who likes to microwave adobo and hates carrots. This is not an uncommon result, so my imagined surveys say. Well, I've got nothing else to say. Just got lucky, I suppose. Here's to hopefully more luck on its way, who knows maybe I could  someday go to Mongolia and travel with horses like a nomad, live in a yurt, and learn to play the morin khuur (a horsehead fiddle) and throat-sing. Oops forgive that bit of random dreaming there.

And oh, I've come to write a little something by way of reminiscing.



We needn’t have hurried after all
he says when he missed his 3 A.M. bus, a hint
lingering in the air you ignore, but you give in
instead to a last kiss before closing the car doors
meant: Well, have a nice life, good luck
with that fight you’re having, cheater
you turned out to be.  But you are tired
and fumble on the double locks, you wanting
to just close the night after you
on a bed you do not share. Next time
perhaps this you’re getting is a nicer screw
with fewer surprises, like the taste of his mouth
you’re now discovering, heavy breaths you’d like
of it quicken as he takes you in, out. Come later
you would invite him to your room but tonight
the time being must just be a detour so
I think I’ll go now you address the room
buckle your belt as you must leave
nothing, again it’s same way easy. You could
be polite and not betray a little too much
smile learning to keep yourself in check. But
suppose convince yourself you are not that
pleased, suppose, yes, you could stay for the night.