“Line them up like purple pansies”

I never understood what it meant. You used to say this when you lay asleep in the middle of the night.

I told you about it once and you laughed at me. I never understood what they meant — your laughter and the sentence that seemed to belong in your dreams.

I never told you about it. But I will tell you now.

The first time I heard you speak in your sleep woke me up in a haste. Your voice was clear and cold when you commanded him, her, or them to line them up like purple pansies.

I sat up and watched you sleep; waiting for you to say them again. You never did.

I heard it once more but this time you were probably in a different dream. You whispered that I should line them up like purple pansies. I was bewildered. I allowed myself to smile at your strange sleeping habit.

I moved some hair off your face and whispered back. Yes, love, I will line them up like purple pansies. I got up and turned the lights out.

I must say that I heard them countless times. Each time, was different from the other time. The only thing that remained similar was that I never understood what it meant.

I still don’t but I miss the way you say it.


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Rakugo in Manila

“A day without laughter is a day wasted.” — Charlie Chaplin

In my zombie-state, I signed-up for a Rakugo performance without really knowing what it is. I only knew that it was something Japanese and admission is free via raffle draw. I guess I’ve never had much luck with lottery and random picks that I wasn’t really expecting much. Much to my surprise, I got two tickets.

With the busy schedule I was having at work, I didn’t have time to research what Rakugo is  so I went there with with my youngest sister armed with very little knowledge on what was to come. I only knew that it was similar to storytelling and that the storyteller barely used props.

Rakugo is a 400-year-old tradition of comic storytelling in Japan. A minimalistic performance art, Rakugo features a lone storyteller dressed in kimono, kneeling on a cushion, who, using only a fan and a hand towel for props, entertains the audience with a comic monologue followed by a traditional story. — rakugo.co.uk

Much to my delight, it was a sit-down comedy show. To say that it was delightfully entertaining is an understatement. For lack of a better term, it was impressive.

I believe that humour depends so much on personality and experience. This is definitely my cup of tea. The Rakugo masters were all very hilarious. The jokes were very witty.  It wasn’t excessive on props because the jokes depended heavily on facial expression and delivery. It was a complete package!

They even included other performances like Daikagura or traditional clowning.Screen Shot 2017-10-08 at 10.11.39 AM.png

The show lasted for two hours. We had a difficult time going home because the venue is a bit far from home but that didn’t bother us because it was a day well spent. I have unintentionally removed my work-induced zombie state.

If you ever get the chance to attend a Rakugo event, I hope you could try it out! Go there without expectations and I assure you that you will be blown away. Release them endorphins!


Continue reading “Rakugo in Manila”

“Aha,” exclaimed the Cheshire Cat. His grin was so luminescent if anyone would ask, I’d say somebody hung two moons that night.

“I knew I’d find you here,” exclaimed the cat.
“– or maybe not,” he mumbled.

“What seems to be bothering you?” he inquired.

“Hmmm.. Well… I was just wondering what becomes of me if I ever disappear from this reality,” she whispered.

“Well… Let’s see. How would you like to be remembered?” asked the Cheshire Cat

“I don’t know. Just, you know — like me,” she murmured.

“Oh please!” he chuckled.
“Nobody is ever remembered just for who they are,” the Cheshire Cat continued.

“You see… we all have different eyes.”

and he vanished ever so slowly
into the
n i g h t .


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i want to keep simple days like this in a bottle

Today, the sky was beautiful. I went out with the people I love. There were only a few cars on the road but the line in the restaurant was long. The coffee I ordered was a bit too strong for my taste and my favorite Mango Graham cake was too dry. The ambiance in the cafe shop was reassuring and warm.

I guess some parts of life are clear-cut dualisms.
I cannot say that it is what makes life beautiful;
but life is beautiful nonetheless.


strange weather in tokyo

It is simple and beautiful like most Japanese literature. Reading Hiromi Kawakami’s Strange Weather in Tokyo is a lot like staring at the night sky and wondering what about it seems so fascinating.

The book is a love story that is very relatable despite its uncanny situation and plot.

An almost forty year old Tsukiko finds herself in the company of her Japanese secondary school teacher whom she barely remembers when he first approaches her.

They later on find themselves entangled in a karmic situation — meeting without making plans and without having any expectations and demands.

The book takes you on a journey of doubts and fears all in the name of love. It’s not heavily laden with societal problems and pressures, instead it focused  more on the characters’ internal predicaments and fears.


come closer, baby

I tried to leave behind thoughts and feelings of emptiness while I closed another Murakami book I borrowed from the library. Of course Murakami’s effect on me did not permit me to do so. These never-ending thoughts lingered in my mind like liquid cough syrup. I hated the way these thoughts stay and do nothing there. They just stay — much like the pungent smell of a coworker’s perfume.

“Is it possible, finally for one human being to achieve perfect understanding of another?”

Rather than wondering whether this is possible, the question of whether anyone would care so much to really try to understand and get close enough to me — my essence is bugging me. I know I’m a difficult person to uncover and much more, to understand. But that’s not the point. I’m not scared of that. In fact, I am completely aware of that. What worries me is whether anyone would even put an effort to try.

Would anyone get so close enough to knowing that I don’t like pineapples on dishes but would kill to have that ice cold pineapple juice? That the smell of fresh laundry comforts me as much as a cup of warm coffee. That the sound of the neighbors fighting or arguing gets me anxious or that I do not like my hair being touched.

I can go on and on for a long time… but would anyone even care enough to ask or even wonder?

“Would I ever see the rest? Or would I grow old and die without ever really knowing her?”