He Knows About Angela Postscripts

Wake [verb]

v.tr.

1. To rouse from sleep; awaken.
2. To stir, as from a dormant or inactive condition; rouse: wake old animosities.
3. To make aware of; alert: The shocking revelations finally woke me to the facts of the matter.
4.

a. To keep a vigil over.
b. To hold a wake over.

It’s when something jolts you out of your stupor, achingly disrupts your otherwise redundant daily activities and you keep yourself from screaming your lungs out from the disorientation and shock from the knowledge and realization that, at least, the reality of temporary existence is absolutely inevitable.

No, it’s not that you have been in a hedonistic state of living, but caught up with the race, work, family, current events, well connected but disconnected, these are times when you step back and look at what we have become, or where we have come to. Or just plain slack jawed at what transpired.

He Knows About Angela Postscripts

Wake n.

1. A watch; a vigil.
2. A watch over the body of a deceased person before burial, sometimes accompanied by festivity. Also called regionally viewing.
                                                                                        3. wakes (used with a sing. or pl. verb) Chiefly British

a. A parish festival held annually, often in honor of a patron saint.
b. An annual vacation.
One digs deeper with this feeling of loss, of finality, of severance.  A definition suggests a watch, a vigil, and I concur, this life is all about standing watch over those you hold dear. And the acceptance of holding the candle being passed unto you.  Even from someone you hardly know. As I look back, the passing of my own mother, whom I never got the chance to talk to while still alive and
feisty, caring and loving. The death of my mother in law, literally in my arms. An aunt. A childhood friend who got hacked to pieces in the mountains. A kindred spirit and probably the closest I could get for a sister,  bound, gagged, stabbed more than I could understand, lying lifeless and bloody in our apartment.  And just recently, an artist whom I would like to emulate. I’d rather celebrate their lives than skulk in a dark corner.
Wake n.
1. The visible track of turbulence left by something moving through water: the wake of a ship.
2. A track, course, or condition left behind something that has passed: The war left destruction and famine in its wake.

Idiom:

in the wake of

1. Following directly on.
2. In the aftermath of; as a consequence of.
So what now? Those of us who are left behind? Will we shed tear and mourn and grief ? Is it too hard to understand that their course has ended but ours is just turning a new corner? It’s not about death really, but a leap of faith, to go on without them. To burn the bridge in the dark and let the flames light the way on the path ahead. Will we crumble with what’s left or  build something from the remnants, of the ruin, from the ashes.
Ina. Mama. Popert. Raldies. Mamu.
He knows about Angela.
ANGELA DON’T GO AND LEAVE ME TONIGHT (LEAVE ME TONIGHT), 
ANGELA PLEASE BE WITH ME (ANGELA), 
ANGELA DON’T EVER WALK THROUGH MY LIFE (WALK THROUGH MY LIFE), 
ANGELA PLEASE BE WITH ME, CAUSE I LOVE YOU. 
He  even commented, in one of those short banters we had the time to indulge in, that the chorus sounded too juvenile. I guess he was right. Too much weight on the loss. Too much ” what will I do without you” sort of sentiment.
They will never pass this way again. But it would be nice if they could see that we are holding up good and doing the best we can. The longing line from the song may even sound romantic and remorseful, but it just won’t  do to stay in that train of thought.
I’m saying goodbye without looking. Probably for the best. The rains keep coming. Probably the sign of his passing, and all those that went before him.
Move along.

He Knows About Angela

Not many people know about her.

As a matter of fact, very few people seldom remember. It was one night of good brew and great camaraderie among people who are rarely together but when they do, it seems like they know each other pretty well. It was something I treasure every time I went. There are quite a few times, and I mean really few times I went to the gathering of people who have cameras for eyes and art for hearts. Heck, I don’t even see myself as a photographer, but these guys accepted a stray, so that makes these gatherings worthy of their own stories.

And he knows about Angela.

With Jojo, it was pure wit and humor, with Darrell, it was profundity, Mike, Buboy et al, a learning session about stuff I don;t know about lenses, and most of them I still don’t know shit. Tony, the wide variety storylines one can delve into with just one topic.

But he knows Angela.

Okay, time to stop being all cryptic. Angela is a song from Vitamin Z that we hit off on at one time. An obscure 80s album with a couple of radio hits and some great music  in the roster. I made a quip about it, firing a slew of  high points for a song that practically no one heard of, unless you bought the tape, or vinyl, and listened to the album in its entire glory. I remember singing a few lines that made him remember the song  . . . .

AND I REALLY LOVE HER,
SHE’S MORE THAN THE WORLD TO ME,
AND I REALLY WANT HER,
WOULD SHE GIVE ALL HER LOVE TO ME.

ANGELA DON’T GO AND LEAVE ME TONIGHT (LEAVE ME TONIGHT),
ANGELA PLEASE BE WITH ME (ANGELA),
ANGELA DON’T EVER WALK THROUGH MY LIFE (WALK THROUGH MY LIFE),
ANGELA PLEASE BE WITH ME, CAUSE I LOVE YOU.

He pointed out something about the intro, being all too techno but with a touch of good old pop rock. I said it was one of the best songs in the album, even though Burning flame was the more popular one.

And we both agreed Hi Hi Friend is the best song in that particular album.

From then on, it was music all the way, the nuances, the stuff I regret never following up with my guitar playing, and the envy we had for Tony’s Fender.

Photo by Darrell Sicam

From left – Jojo, Tirong and me. (Photo by Darrell Sicam)

As I sit here, still sleepy from the lack of it. A two-hour bus trip back this morning from Sucat, Paranaque, was worth the several hours staying with Tirong’s bro, singing some songs, and joking about stuff Tirong might have something to say  to. Turns out I hardly know the man, there were stories I need to hear, adventures I had to take in, and  Momma Orbase just felt like she was glad Tyrone had more friends than she ever knew. She took some much-needed rest at about 2am this morning, and I wish I could have picked her mind about Tirong. But the fretwork of long-haired bro Orbase made it worthwhile to shoot some musical topics and what little bit of history I could glean from him, even while gin was being passed around and I tipped the jigger like cacti thirsty for water.

I hardly know the man.

But he knows Angela.

The interment is tomorrow. I can hardly bring myself to go there and bear witness. I have issues with death and goodbyes. I just like to think he just went off somewhere.

And he knows about Angela.

That makes him one of the few friends worth keeping.

Now,There’s A Challenge . . .

Second guessing yourself may slow down progress in any endeavour. But it’s a sure way to step back and look at the big picture, look for flaws in the design, or backtrack with the methods.

Oh, if only my co-workers and friends realize what a fraud I am when it comes to my skills. At least I admit that. No it’s not that I don’t know what I’m doing, but most of the time it’s all about teaching myself with the tools. My tenure with animation nearly drained me of creativity, the redundancy turned to complacency and in my mind, if I had not decided to do something different, I would have turned sour and dormant, a warrior that stuck to swords and shields while the world armed itself with smart guns and GPS.

Now, I see myself as an outsider, but I can’t help but be attached to my colleagues at work, in whatever job I have held in the past, and at present, as a graphic specialist (motion graphic artist, but it sounds way better). And most of the time, co-workers turn out to be good friends. We interact only at the studio, but they will never know how much I value the ribbing, taunts, masked insults  and overall camaraderie.

At some point we were just shooting the bull, in a manner of speaking when freelance jobs worked its way into the conversation (pun unintended) and I asked Conde and Mike if they could throw me some, you know, given the state of economy and all that. And what could have been a simple answer became a big challenge for me : improve the skills and get some raket (what we fondly call freelance jobs nowadays)

Now, an acquaintance might say “Sure.” and forget about it, but this challenge made the proposition more interesting. I’m not a wizard with Adobe After Effects . I’m still learning to use SketchUp. I know I could create stuff with Photoshop, and so much awesomeness with a pencil and paper – but, there’s a challenge.

Remember, I was talking about reinventing one’s self on the previous post?

Well, there you go, no better time than now.

 So I went to my usual web haunts – SFFF and MBFF and immediately looked for something I can use, and hopefully give something back. Something our local industry and government fail to comprehend – it’s called sharing.

My Ae skills are rudimentary, barely basic and utterly simplistic.

Now, there’s a challenge.

And lest I forget, this whole reinvention things has been brewing for weeks now, but it was Sally, that wonderful woman who seem to hit me silly and unawares every time, who finally convinced me to do something.

So I did.

But I take caution, and extreme care not to storm into this with eyes half closed. This is nothing like improving the way I prepare and cook lugaw by adding some mushroom bits or putting the onions first instead of the garlic. Instinct is good but we need methods. Lots of it.

These are rare times when I seem to come to a deadend, and a hand just snatched me up to go over the wall and continue walking. Friends do that. Good friends will even shove you and complain that you’re too slow.

I’m not. I’m just relishing the good feeling while enjoying the sights, is all.