October 26, 2004

DO NOT GO GENTLE INTO THAT GOODNIGHT
Dylan Thomas. 1914-1953. Welsh.

Do not go gentle into that good night
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightening they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that goodnight.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that goodnight.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

eyed at 6:44 PM

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October 18, 2004

Bembot

He’s our youngest. He just turned twenty five last October 15.

It’s been ten years now. But July 28 is just like those other days that pass without making some imprints in my mind. Sometimes, it even passed unnoticed.

Not the 15th of October. It beckons and when it comes, I kiss it silently. Sometimes with a whisper. October is rhythmic, like Sting’s Fields of Gold. Its air is crisp and smells of unhusked rice. October is how I always remember him – not in July’s rainings and unsettling wind. In my sleep, it’s always October when I see him.

Sometimes, I would imagine how he would look like now. He must be towering over us. The last time I saw him, he was just short of three inches to scale six feet. And he was just fourteen then.

He once told us that he wanted to be a basketball player. So he was very much problematic when the doctor decided to cut his left leg. He had to be shielded from the pain inside, albeit temporarily as we, but he, all know. He was also problematizing on the thought that the leg to be removed would already decompose while he’s still alive.

He also once dreamed of becoming doctor. He even suggested then that his eight elder siblings piggyback his schooling to medical school by setting aside a peso or two a day for his college fund. I suppose he just wants us all to feel the idea. He likes stories as well, but when he started to go to school, nothing fascinates him than the forthrightness of math and science. He first learned simple algebra in grade three when I gave him nightly lessons of what I learned of it in a grade six classroom.

I remember his simple, pure interest in knowing the unknown when before his operation, I saw under his pillow a drawing of his left foot. It was a skeletal drawing with arrows pointing on the tibia, fibula, femur and other parts. Maybe, he just wanted to understand what’s going on - what causes the pain - in order to be comforted.

I still wonder how he is right now. Perhaps, he would just answer me that when people are gone, they’re really gone and that I just have to be comforted with such idea. But I’m glad he left us memories to remember him forever.

eyed at 11:42 PM

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October 11, 2004

If only leaving this job is like forgetting our friendship

it would be easier
will just shrug and
take a momentary look
at the fading mem'ries
of better days.

there would be no
dreadful feeling that a day
(then two, three, four, 'til i stop
counting) had passed with me doing nothing
and i could sleep the night without
getting awakened by the nagging
thought that tomorrow might just be no
different from the previous one.

it would be easier.
i tell you
in case you wish to flatter yourself.

eyed at 4:19 PM

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October 09, 2004

how "evil" am i?

I am 34% evil.

I could go either way. I have sinned quite a bit but I still have a bit of room for error. My life is a tug of war between good and evil.

Are you evil? find out at Hilowitz.com

eyed at 11:25 PM

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