Last night I hardly slept. I should have, you know, snored halfway to valhalla, if we factor in the copious amounts of brandy I had in my system (I came from regular hangout with friends from way back and needless to say, alcohol and food is a staple in those parts). Not that I am complaining, I didn’t spend anything. And these friends know that. These are the same friends that held my hand when I was about to break from the endless deluge of rejected job applications and failed business deals. It’s these small handshakes, the little pat on the back that assures me they have my back. Even a brother whom I bothered too often about my financial predicaments suddenly sent help, and in the most timely manner, because I am really going for the loanshark at this time, which my Mayor Street
So, short bursts of sleep, and series of graphic books in the works, a life saving rescue by my brother, and the unflinching loyalty of friends, what else is there to be thankful for?
It’s the little things.
- Those free Uni Ball Eye pens that went with my purchase of three felt-tip pens at National Bookstore. I was looking for drawing ink but bought a 03, 06 and 08 Uni Pen and didn’t realize till I was home that the freebies were put in my bag.
- Books and audiobooks.
- Pares and Mami carts that provide delicious sustenance for the thrift. The chili and fried garlic added liberally makes it better.
- Gigabytes of data riding tiny USB flashdrives. The 80s saw a Chess Grandmaster square off with Big Blue, a machine that was powered by 1Gb of data that was stored in something as big as a house. Nowadays you could carry the data you need 32 times over on a thumb drive.
- Coffee. No buts about it.
- Street corner laundry service. Even if I try to do my ow washing, sometimes it’s better to have them done, just because I have nowhere to hang the laundry to dry in my current inhabited space.
- Mp3. Digital music. Yes, I long to hear music the way it should be heard, on vinyl, on a phonograph, with the amp and speakers tuned through an extensive equalizer set up and played loud. But I need a home to do that, and in this city living, Mp3 is my saviour. I could write and draw continuously with my favorites playing in the background.
- Mall comfort rooms. Don’t ask.
- Analog mobile phones. Smirk at the idea, but the way I see people griping about battery life and lugging extra powerbanks just so they can browse continuously, I go for the bar phone that lasts a week with a single charge. And don’t get me started about android updates, nor iPhone upgrades.
- Twitter. And no, not for reasons most people think.
- Internet connection. However shitty the service is, still something to be thankful about.
- Blogging. Not for fame, nor profit, but for my sanity.
- Technology in general. Most people take this for granted but growing up with less, access to modern technology is still a joy to behold.
- Movies. In data format. I could marathon The Hobbit and Lord of The Rings as often as I want. And all the films I want to seeover and over.
- My landlady. Her kind heart let me stay even if I can hardly pay the rent. She understands, bless her.
And we could go on and on about the little things that make life worth going through each day, but go list your own.
I couldn’t remember exactly when the writing bug bit me. All I know is, whenever I read komiks ( I spell it with a ‘K’ simply because what was available to me then were all local talents – writers and artists – from our own publishing, to use the word ‘comics’ would mean those Marvel and DC that are almost entirely out of my reach back then) and I would spend my hard earned money, and some ‘kupit’ on all the komiks I can rent, because my mother does not allow komiks in our household, with the exception of Liwayway Magazine which usually carries 2-three illustrated stories per issue. I would splurge on Holiday, Pinoy, Pilipino Komiks like a fiend. I’d follow titles like Vic Poblete’s Devil Car or anything ilustrated by Clem Rivera, Javinal and Alex Nino, which, by then has been rare. By the time I went to high school, I explored the classic illustrated stories – Robinson Crusoe, Swiss Family Robinson, The Hound Of Baskervilles, all illustrated by our local artists, which led me to the dark, dusty section of our library that no one really bothers to go to. It’s therewhere I discovered a tattered copy of The Lord of the Rings, Flowers for Algernon, The Tommyknockers and an even more grizzled copy of Diary of a Madman. Continue reading