The Eternal Optimist: 7.7.7.

Sunday, July 8, 2007

7.7.7.

My nephew, Gabriel Santino gets baptized, and I get to be one of the ninangs! :-) To my nephew/godson, Welcome to the Christian World! :-)

UAAP Season 70 opening, and arch-rival DLSU Green Archers are back (I bet with a lot of vengeance, after their "forced" [heeheehee] rest from the league). I just hope our beloved Blue Eagles will put up a good fight against the Archers. (This I say with a lot of hope, prayers and optimism considering the massive loss the team has suffered in the persons of JC Intal, Macky Escalona and Doug Kramer.) To my dear Blue Eagles, ONE BIG FIGHT!

Sherwin and Astrid gets married, and we get to feast on unlimited Roast Calf (of course, other dishes were served, but the roast calf was soooooo delicious, I can't even remember what those other dishes are!), beer, cocktails (it was an open bar, after all) and lots of hilarious stories from the 4C boys (it's hard to believe they're actually a bunch of 30 year old men!) To Wonwon and A, Congratulations and Best Wishes! :-)

To everyone, Happy 7.7.7.! ;-)

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Poetry Schmoetry

Observations by Arthur Lundkvist

I was another person yesterday, I will become yet another tomorrow. What I have seen I have forgotten, but it is still there somewhere in the attic.

The fear is not mine, I have only borrowed it as long as I need it.

This is the most common comic effect: someone throws himself with full forces against an open door.

Dreams that are born inside bottles amount to no more than ships that sail in bottles.

Clothes can be so light that they rise to the ceiling as soon as they are freed from their bodies.

At night the windows should stand open for Something that wants to go out or in. The horizon has turned over in the thickets of roses like a wagon, and the pines seem to stagger, as if very strong dwarfs wrestled with them.

The glances of the waiting fishermen's wives flatten out the waves, as if they were an iron for wrinkled water.

Scarecrows stand in Sunday suits, black as guests at a funeral in the midst of all the arriving city dwellers in garish rags. A man in a broad-brimmed black hat can scarcely be anything other than a preacher passing through. The negligent wife boils the fish so long that their eyes loosen like pearls.

No prayers help when lightning makes the window shade fly up with a snap. But somebody can open a book and enter into a wonderful garden.

What is repressed in dreams breaks out in reality and what the cuckoos write in May will fly on its own wings in September.

The Eternal Optimist

Sunday, July 8, 2007

7.7.7.

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Snapshots

Words from the Wise

Legends to be

The Legends

All about food

Whatever suits my fancy

Blasts from the Past

Poetry Schmoetry