Balancing act

I thought I'd put this old photograph here to remind me how woebegone this Wednesday has been. I couldn't dream up a topic I could passably write about.

My inner censor has been working double time, cancelling such subjects as My Mother's Paksiw na Pata, an ode to Mom's meat dish redolent with banana blossoms, laurel leaves and black pepper, with a thick soy-based sauce (censor said it's Holy Week, a time of fasting from red meat, and a rich dish may be offensive to those who are hungry); the unfinished bottle of eau de toilette, lavender scent, from friend Chit Santos (I couldn't possibly dress up, only to realize I have nowhere to go and thus dabbing the behinds of my ears and the base of my neck with lavender was out of the question); mastering the pressing of the snooze button which Bruno Lancelot Lolarga has done by napping in the morning, in the afternoon, then enjoying a full night's sleep, except for peeing time around midnight (see, El President, you are not alone, but Bruno is more handsome than you'll ever aspire to be even if you smoothen the pores on your nose).

Those are the subjects I ticked off mentally as I went about my day. But I did a Bruno--going on snooze mode at 10 a.m., then at 2 p.m. again until a compulsion to record my day impelled me to turn on the computer and attempt something.

I responded to the posts of friends like Pablo Tariman whose short tribute to Kerima Polotan triggered a memory of what might have been an encounter on the phone with the lady. Turns out I was speaking to her secretary, not The Kerima herself. But for many years I deluded myself into imagining it was the legendary writer whose voice I heard on the other end of the phone, inviting me over to pick up my contributor's fees. The fees were my first from a national publication, and I spent all the money on pocketbooks at the old PECO (Philippine Education Company) bookstore in downtown Manila.

If anything, this limbering exercise, a prelude to real writing, is a reminder for me to do more actual physical exercises--the mind loves a walk. Look at Elmer A. Ordoñez, the literary critic, novelist, essayist, who comes back from his evening walks with a Facebook status that reads like a haiku or a tanka. I imagine him with a mandarin painter beside him rendering the images of tagak and frolicking calf into a haiga to deepen the meaning further of the FB status.

My grandchild's pose states, yes, balance there, Booboo (her pet name for me). More walks, more sunshine to get the adrenaline running anew.