Day 2, Writing from The Heart workshop, Tuesday, May 30, 2017.

Gloomy skies at 7:00 AM. A few minutes later, it rains.

A hotel fire drill is schedule at 3:00 PM, during which the elevators will be out of commission for half an hour. I have a dramaturgy meeting with Clara at the hotel, and so I will evade it.

A woman from PROC does my room. She doesn't like it when I am inside, and so I stay on the balcony outside the breakfast room on the second floor and and in the area outside Memo cafe, on the ground floor, until she is done. I finish up reading the rest of the plays for dramaturgy in my dossier.

A cup of Robert Timms coffee.

I leave the hotel 1:45 PM and walk to the theatre. I ask Zi Yan to photocopy handouts for this evening.

I sense that the participants have a harder time at the workshop. We do readings in a circle.

A Pink Dot function is ongoing on the ground floor. I am later told that it has been an upsetting evening for them. For some reason only Singaporean companies are allowed to sponsor them, and they may no longer accept financial support from non-Singaporean groups and individuals. All foreigners are also not allowed to attend Pink Dot functions.

Slept between 1:00 - 1:30 AM.

Lunch at home with the granddaughters. I need to take them to our family dentist, maybe tomorrow.

A hot afternoon.

Searched for a particular book in my slew of books but couldn't find it.

Day 1, Writing from The Heart workshop, Monday, May 29, 2017.

Sitting on the balcony to have coffee and a few cigarettes after a heavy, buffet breakfast. The caterer is there, also smoking a cigarette, and recognizes me from the last two years. He informs me that the breakfast room is being renovated next month, after which the hotel will take on another caterer. It is quite sad that I may never see him again. He has a Filipino waiter in his employ.

I figure out how to use the hotel computers on the second floor but decide not to go on-line except to post my guidelines on Google+ and on facebook, until I get back home. It is wonderful to take a long rest from computers.

I read Clara's play, then deliver Tay Tong's oil portrait, which is in an art carrier tube. The varnish is not completely dry and I advise him not to take out and unroll the canvas out of curiosity but to bring it to the framers and have them do it.

Lunch is bak kut teh with rice and a root beer at a coffee shop.

W. brings me food early this evening, and it occurs to me that Tanet is already taking care of me. I am glad that we are both rabbits, and that he waited for me to come and claim him.

I meet the workshop participants for the first time. The exercises I give them are a representative preview of what else is to come for them within the week.

I am always fascinated with the behavior of my fellow men inside airport smoking lounges. Everyone is looking at you and not looking at you, everyone is giving you "I am friendly and hope you are also friendly, but if you are not friendly I can also be not friendly" signals. We all have to buy something in order to use the lounge. I usually buy bottled water. My disposable lighter is always being overborrowed.

The flight to Singapore is smooth and uneventful. I have two glasses of tomato juice, a Singapore Sling, and a cup of black coffee. Ezzat and Zi Yan meet me at the arrival area. We dip into a coffee shop and have a Pepsi Max while Ezzat goes over our projected schedule. Ezzat is having nothing because it is Ramadan period. We take him to his grandmother's house, which is near a modern mosque, where he and his relatives and friends are breaking fast in a few minutes.

Zi Yan takes me to Studio M Hotel, which is a building away from the theatre. Much later tonight W. picks me up and takes me to Sembawang, where he lives. Malaysia is but a 20-minute drive from here. Its landscape is visible from W.'s apartment. We have dinner at a hawkers' center, and then W. drives me back to the hotel. I feel guilty because the distance from the hotel to Sembawang seems like the distance from Cubao to Santa Maria, Bulacan. W., therefore, had tp traverse that distance four times: once to pick me up, a second to take me to Sembawang, a third to take me back to the hotel, and a fourth to go back home.

Sunday, May 28, 2017

Rose at 5:30 AM for a 7:30 AM pick-up. One of my worst nightmares is waking up on the day of a flight and not having packed a single item. That is why I pack for a trip two weeks in advance, and off a carefully constructed checklist, except for three small items. I pack those three upon waking. The act of packing them functions makes me scan my subconscious for anything else I could have missed that was not on my checklist.

The granddaughters are still in their bedrooms on the upper floor. Aubrey is attending a friend's birthday party to be held at Enchanted Kingdom in Santa Rosa, Laguna today.

The car arrives 7:15 AM. The driver assists me with my four pieces of luggage. On the way to the airport one of my spirit guides tells me to leave all of my thoughts of Cubao behind and go into workshop mode. My flight is scheduled at 2:15 PM, meaning an 11:15 AM check-in, but I asked my sister Alice to send me the car 8:30 AM to get to the airport 10:00 AM. The driver, fearing the devils' traffic and believing my flight to be at 10:00 AM, advises me that I should be picked up 7:30 AM, and I make no objection.

Now I am in the waiting lounge of Terminal 3 three hours before my actual flight. I pay my travel tax now rather than wait until after I check in.

It is now 8:10 AM and I am sitting in a chair in the waiting lounge beside two young Hindu men who marked their foreheads with red-orange henna. They are pre-med students at Bicol University off to a one-month vacation in India. I mull over yet another nightmare, in which I am on campus and late for classes, having missed all other classes the entire semester, and having to take a final exam,. It is usually a History exam, because I have often been called upon by my psyche to review my past lifetimes and the lessons therein.

The young men are going to Mumbai via Kuala Lumpur. I converse with one, whose name is Jaydeep, about Hindu gods and goddesses. His father owns a cloth factory in Mumbai, and I am so tempted to ask him for samples in his cell phone, considering that he has shown me almost everything else in his photo albums. Much later I meet the two of them looking distraught in the lobby after a failed check-in. Their baggage is 9 kg overweight, they have no cash other than what they need to pay their exit fee, and Jaydeep's ATM card is not accepted anywhere in the airport. I help them at the counter of their airline because they actually speak very little English. As it turns out Jaydeep's card is a Mastercard extension card in Jaydeep's father's name.

Wearing Lomani Pour Homme from Paris. I can begin rotating my cologne again. The past nine days in Singapore I wore nothing but Elizabeth Taylor's Passion for Men. The bottle was huge, and it would have been unwise to bring other bottles with me.

Now Jerwin is in the Philippines to visit his mother, who is ill, and to take a short vacation in El Nido. He's coming over next week. I invited a few friends to join us. We'll probably have sisig at M.'s cafe and then tea in the dining room.

It has occurred to me that the Igorot bululs might have their origins in the Hindu shivalingam. Both are upright and phallus-shaped, are usually dark or black, are placed outdoors, and are libated with water, wine, and milk.

And the Hindu shivalingams, in turn, might have their origins in the ancient Greek herm.

Good morning, Cubao!

The clouds are silver treasure chests.

One-hour business meeting with M.

Back from family dinner after Angelique's graduation ceremony. We went to my daughter-in-law Ivy's favorite restaurant.

People love watching movies about action heroes because it is the only time they see the oppressed winning over the oppressors. Ironically, it is only when movies teach real people real ways to solve real problems that the oppressed learn to stand up to the oppressors in real life.

Be psychic and develop your abilities, but do not be influenced by romantic ideas of what psychics should be as shown in movies and on TV.

A day in the life of a real psychic is in the doldrums when revealed to others.

Watched Logan on the plane going to Singapore and enjoyed it because of its multiple levels of meaning.

It is not black that hides and protects, but the color of solid, red copper.

Time is an invention of man but, like a force of Nature, it cannot be countered by anyone.

Making sacrifices, big or small, can be perceived as forms of self-punishment and incur good karma in advance.

Most of behavior cannot be corrected because they are outcomes of habit, of preference, and of choice.

When he coughs, it is dry and it sounds like the clash of cymbals.

Almost a year now without a mobile phone. I find that if people really want to reach me, they'll know where to find me.

A man cannot build a house without being outdoors.

Many spirit guides are extraterrestrials in disguise.

It is unfair to others and to yourself to think the worst of everyone.

Watched The Legend of Alice Flagg on DIVA last night. I love stories set in looming hurricanes. The orchestration of characters was also interesting to me--very Tennessee Williams, whose works I recently have been revisiting.

The second half of the program, however, was a mess, as though the producer, writer, and director could not make up their minds as to how to develop a story.

One way to relax and enjoy a quiet day is to pretend you are an invalid and to set yourself up in a cozy corner of the house.

You can enjoy company. You can enjoy food. But you should also know how to enjoy time.

When it rains, send unpleasant thoughts into the gutters and into the earth.

It's now become part of my morning ritual to pour a cup of clean water on the shivalingam. Strangely, the basin never overflows--the water is most probably absorbed by the thunderstones and/or evaporates in the summer heat.

When guests ask to pour water on the shivalingam, I let them.

Gentle rainfall on Cubao.

Angelique is graduating today, but only yesterday she had her interview at law school and we paid a reservation fee for her first semester. Not an end of studies but a new beginning.

Good morning, Cubao!

Slept nine hours last night.

The sun is a copper palm tree.

Just hanging loose tomorrow, and maybe will have some of Teow Li's Cambodian, lemon-grass tea. After the workshop, the plane trip home, and tying up house admin matters, it will be my first day of rest, except that an antique dealer is coming to visit me in the afternoon and our family is having dinner out after Angelique's graduation.

Can't help wondering how my Muslim antique dealer is doing. He is--or was--based in Marawi City and is currently incommunicado. I look at all the stuff I bought from him--the Maranao likos, the trunks, the brass spittoons, the Holy Q'uran cradles, the malongs, the metal boxes, the side tables, the framed mirror, the Vietnam tray, the antique beads and jewelry, and other treasures--and wish that he and his community are safe. The last things I ordered from him were two, ten-foot, hand-carved, wooden battle drums to function either as room dividers or balcony corner accents, but I know that they won't come until after the real battle is over.

I might decide to sleep ten hours and then wake up in Cubao as though everything else were but a dream.

Dinner at home with Angelique, Aubrey, and J. Started sharing food with the security guards and with M.'s cafe's waiters again.

Saw Eleanor's faux-gold-dust-backed mah jong set during a workshop exercise and thought I'd buy one too. Aside from using them like building blocks to delineate stage space for my plays, I use them in casting magical spells. (Our family's old mah jong set tiles are lavender-backed. I believe my eldest sister Lourdes bought the set some 40 years ago.) They can be used like Tarot cards as well.

I went over the edge and bought a faux-silver-dust-backed set too, because it was more sparkly.

Many thanks to Zi Yan, who volunteered to pick up the sets for me. Quite self-sacrificial of him because, like the shivalingam, the mah jong sets are VERY HEAVY.

I was also determined to bring home a REAL shivalingam (a.k.a. shivalinga, shivaling) made of stone, and so, now I have one. This one's granite and is VERY HEAVY. Placed it inside the small loggia where sunshine and some rain will fall on it.

Years ago I had a long conversation with archaeologist (and playwright) Jess Peralta of the National Museum. He said that excavations in Cubao revealed elephant tusks and a lot of shivalingams in the area, the latter implying that the Hindu were here long before the Muslims were. Perhaps an explanation why there is a lot of albeit unusual spirituality in Cubao? Strangely, I've been reading that a lot of shivalingams have been discovered in the most unlikely countries as well.

Back from jalan-jalan.

Cubao was overcrowded and chaotic as usual. It was nice to be home again.

Lunch at home with Angelique, Aubrey, and J. We had fresh mangoes and strawberry crumble pie ice cream for dessert.

Angelique goes to law school in July, Aubrey to pre-med in August.

Now that our team is complete I can probably open my blog titled Tony Perez's Cubao Kuman Thong to the public already.

http://tonyperezphilippinescyberspacebook33.blogspot.com/?zx=d5e666995d9508e4

Took reference photos of Keng Sen for a portrait some time last week.

Disappointed that I wasn't able to take photos of Gerald.

Good morning, Cubao!

The sun is the lamp above a magnifying lens.

The werewolf crossed the street to the burger stand.

Remembering the Embassy officer who ordered the same kind of burger at BGC for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He must have been reassigned elsewhere by now. Wherever he is, I am sure that he has found a new source of the same kind of burger.

SQ-916 landed 5:40 PM.

Arrived home in an airport car 9:00 PM. It felt like I was going home from work in devils' traffic all over again.

The granddaughters met me at the door. Cerefina did too.

Dinner at M.'s cafe.

Doing my laundry in the washing machine 10:22 PM.

Goodbye for now, Cubao!

Hello once more, Singapore!

Off-line for nine days.

Back from jalan-jalan at the center.

An hour with the ref repair man. He said that if the freon doesn't keep within the next two months I am better off buying a new ref.

Lunch at home with the granddaughters.

Glowering skies above Cubao.

Aubrey going to gym later, and I jalan-jalan.

Everything happens exactly when it is supposed to happen.

Good morning, Cubao!

The sun pours molten brass on galvanized iron rooftops.

An additional effect of lighting joss sticks is the banishment of unpleasant memories.

Tony Perez's Art of War: Only when people have to take you seriously will they feel constrained to attack you.

Drizzly day in Cubao. Angelique attended graduation rehearsal and will be having dinner with her block mates.

At home with Aubrey.

Music is a defense mechanism when you use it to distract your mind from certain thoughts, especially sexual thoughts. As a matter of fact, when many persons are being seduced or engage in sex, songs play themselves in their minds without their deliberately making them do so. The music floods their minds as subconscious denial of what they are doing.

Caught a ridiculous makeover of young people on TV:

--One insisted on doing her own hair and ended up looking like a mall flower vendor.

--Another refused to have her hair cut, thinking she looks most beautiful that way without realizing that she actually looks like the cartoon Aurora in the 1960s, Walt Disney Sleeping Beauty.

--Yet another looked like a CGI model for The Adventures of TinTin.

A bachelor will most likely invite an odd number to his party.

Good morning, Cubao!

The sun is a garage emergency light.

An overweight broadcaster falls gravely ill.

Wine, extra virgin olive oil, extra virgin coconut oil, and natural honey are good base materials for potions because they keep well.

It is where a person is, not where he came from, that matters the most.

People with short tempers usually have tortured minds.

Bury three more shiny coins in your bowl of earth.

One of the three desired him enough to help finance his project, but he was particularly revolted because he was desired.

Life is a battle only if you make it so. The last quarter of your life should no longer be spent fighting but resting and enjoying everything you amassed early on.

The more he received praises and compliments, the more he became lax with himself and took things for granted.

People have been using the term "spot on" for years and years. Now people are also using the term "bang on". What is the origin of "bang on"? Is it connected in some way with explosions caused by terrorists?

A word of encouragement, whether sincerely meant or not, goes a long, long way.

Cooking is an art that will never die, because everyone eats and likes eating.

A beautiful figurine should also cast a beautiful shadow.

In times of crisis, you function well if you can function alone.

Living in high places does not improve your status.

Teach the disabled to master technology, for they will be best at it.

A mage is never impressed by students who audition for acceptance.

Having children will irreversibly change your life and your priorities.

Most people who are reliant on medication fear the onset of night.

A mage never diminishes in power and in technique, for both of those are cumulative from his eighth birthday.

Not only the players, but the spectators also, must be good sports.

When you are finally turning in for the night, close your eyes and travel, in your mind, through all of the rooms in the house.

You sleep well only when your children are fed and resting peacefully in their beds.

Like pure gold, your brilliant works never tarnish, no matter how hard others try to devalue them.

We are all given obstacles of the same difficulty and intensity, but it just never looks that way to everyone.

War is always waged between men and not between gods, but it is the gods who decide who win and who lose.

A constellation that is already shining in the firmament can no longer be torn down by anyone.

Do not think visually all of the time. Think verbally as well.

The halos and the rays of light will always come not from within your head but from the starship that is above you.

Do not dream of setting up a First-World restaurant for a Third-World clientele. Your intentions may be noble, but you will eventually lose your money and plunge into bankruptcy.

Know especially that, to complicate matters, you may be a First-World person but your staff will be Third-World unless you offer them First-World salaries, and that, even if you send them off to training, they will soon leave you to cross over to greener pastures, usually abroad.

That is why I have always advised M. to keep his cafe a "local local".

A missed opportunity never offers itself again.

Honor only what should be honored, not what others tell you to blindly honor.

Public relations are an indication that someone wants to take something away from you.

Tuesdays-Thursdays in my study. Tea and black coffee. Conducting intensive research with the new Spirit Questors for a client who needs the appropriate magical symbols, rituals, and spells for treasure hunting.

In the Philippines, hunters believe that buried treasure is guarded by elementals. Once the hunters get close to the treasure, the elementals wreak havoc and cause the hunters to fight (and in many cases kill) one another.

In the Cordilleras, there is an albularya who is consulted specifically for treasure hunts. She has a covered basket in each corner of her room. She takes a dish filled with herbs and offerings to each basket. If all four baskets manifest a glow (like a candle glow) from within, the consultants have the go signal to proceed with their treasure hunt.

A quiet, demure man is usually the target of dominating women who want him both as a husband and as a trophy.

Every man should know how to shield himself even from the most unlikely predators.

When you invite an atchay to lunch, you will of course pay for his lunch.

When you invite an atchay to a light, mid-afternoon snack, he will scan the menu and then say, "I haven't had lunch," as though he'd been working the whole morning through noon. He will then order not a snack but lunch.

Either way you pay for his lunch.

Because they sent trash, their bodies became trash.

Personality has flavors.

Every young artist believes that the world is there for him to take.

Every mature artist knows that the world is there for others, and that his duty in that world is merely to truthfully describe it.

Tony Perez's Art of War: Your critics live in the ignorance of believing that you would rather be someone other than yourself, and in the ignorance of never believing that you would rather be yourself, inclusive of all your imperfections, at any time.

The sky wept briefly, and showered ill will among the men who would not understand why they, too, should have been in grief.

My uncle, Fr. Francisco M. Perez, SJ, passed away today. He was one of the gentlest men I have ever known.

The wake will be at Ateneo de Manila University.

Watching UFO Hunters on History.

Lunch with the granddaughters and three of Angelique's classmates who slept over.

Survived everything so far. Next in line are Angelique's graduation practice, graduation, and our family dinner out, then Aubrey's first day in college. Will need to buy Aubrey school supplies but, at least, will no longer be buying Hello Kitty, Walt Disney, and Barbie bags.