Mood, with dress and shoes

One of my collaborative projects. This one with Mark Mangistrado

2007-03-01T17:42:00.000-08:00

Salmon and Lobster Mayonnaise by ~magistrado on deviant ART

Planning to extend this collaboration because we enjoyed each other's company and each other's creative process. This is an excerpt from my end of the process.

Mabuhay ka Mark!

Introducing my American Cocker Spaniel, Emily Dickinson

2007-02-27T04:41:00.000-08:00

Went to Baguio over the weekend to pick her up. She is an an American Cocker Spaniel with a show dog mother (28 red marks). She has the same eyes as Emily Dickinson sans her name. I've had her for four days now. Everyday is a relearning of trust and unconditional love.

Before the trip back to Manila, she stepped into her own doggie bag without any urging. I snuck her onto the Dagupan Bus and she was quiet all though out the trip. She didn't fuss.

The things I've learned: She wants to eat at 6 am and 8 pm. Puppy Power begins at 4 pm and ends at 6 pm. She has taken over the garden. I was afraid she'd wreck the plants but she seems to be a gentle dog. She occasionally chews a leaf or two of mint and laurel. But that might just be an Italian past life. Her sacred space is between my lavander urn and white rose pot.

My Dog Days

2007-02-10T19:59:00.000-08:00

My Dog Days have begun.

I waited for a french bulldog puppy this friend of mine had promised in October. December 25, I teared up like a child knowing I'd never have that puppy. I feel foolish thinking about it now. I texted everyone that I was going to get a dog, that it was just a matter of time. I believed. I hoped. The eight year old in me smiled and waited. Life stopped, waiting for this dog. Nobody really knew how important he was going to be in my life. He was the way into something else. Something Else. I visited websites. I surveyed vets. I made a puppy budget in my head.

Last saturday, I had a two dog weekend. I gave this little informal lecture at Silver Lens and was entertained immensely by a yorkie named Tiger. Then, in this 1930's aparment in Malate, Bogart, a terrier walked among the bohemian drawl. He picked up peanut shells tenderly from the narra floor. I put my hand around his heaving little sausage body and was quiet. Quiet like I had been Before Everything Began.

I've decided to take matters into my own hands. I will save up and buy this soul dog. I'm thinking of getting a french bulldog or a cocker spaniel.

Googled, what are dog days and got this answer:

The Dog Days of Summer

Everyone knows that the “dog days of summer” occur during the hottest and muggiest part of the season. Webster defines “dog days” as...
1 : the period between early July and early September when the hot sultry weather of summer usually occurs in the northern hemisphere
2 : a period of stagnation or inactivity

But where does the term come from? Why do we call the hot, sultry days of summer “dog days?”

In ancient times, when the night sky was unobscured by artificial lights and smog, different groups of peoples in different parts of the world drew images in the sky by “connecting the dots” of stars. The images drawn were dependent upon the culture: The Chinese saw different images than the Native Americans, who saw different pictures than the Europeans. These star pictures are now called constellations, and the constellations that are now mapped out in the sky come from our European ancestors.

They saw images of bears, (Ursa Major and Ursa Minor), twins, (Gemini), a bull, (Taurus), and others, including dogs, (Canis Major and Canis Minor).

The brightest of the stars in Canis Major (the big dog) is Sirius, which also happens to be the brightest star in the night sky. In fact, it is so bright that the ancient Romans thought that the earth received heat from it. Look for it in the southern sky (viewed from northern latitudes) during January.

In the summer, however, Sirius, the “dog star,” rises and sets with the sun. During late July Sirius is in conjunction with the sun, and the ancients believed that its heat added to the heat of the sun, creating a stretch of hot and sultry weather. They named this period of time, from 20 days before the conjunction to 20 days after, “dog days” after the dog star.

The conjunction of Sirius with the sun varies somewhat with latitude. And the “precession of the equinoxes” (a gradual drifting of the constellations over time) means that the constellations today are not in exactly the same place in the sky as they were in ancient Rome. Today, dog days occur during the period between July 3 and August 11. Although it is certainly the warmest period of the summer, the heat is not due to the added radiation from a far-away star, regardless of its brightness. No, the heat of summer is a direct result of the earth's tilt.

Copyright © 1999, 2000 by Jerry Wilson

Langib Exhibit at Beato and a sad and painful encounter with the Varsitarian

2007-01-07T06:27:00.000-08:00

Certain Thomasian Writers Guild members old and new and profoundly talented Visual Artists from CFAD UST had a fruitful interaction called LANGIB launched 6pm last January 5, 2007. The College of Fine Arts and Design is such a fertile place with so many creative people on their way, so I am sad to think that they only have 9 units of Literature and English combined. How is that possible? Do they not want their students to explore all creative knowledge?

I interacted with Mark Mangistrado on a minimalist collaboration called Salmon and Lobster Mayonnaise. I will show you a page in this blog. Do come visit.

I had the sad pleasure to meet the kind and innocent faces of a Varsitarian Literary Editor and a Circle writer who came to write about LANGIB. They didn't know what hit them. They didn't know that I had informed their News Editor of my ALIWW recognition last week of October in 2006 and NO ONE came to cover the ALIWW garden ceremony last November 28. Both of them never came across the Philippine Star article written by Rica Bolipata on November 23 and the after article of Krip Yuson also in the Philippine Star on December 4.

Before that, news of my MTV End to the Full Moon, was posponed for three months and when the article came out, it wasn't only badly written, it contained so many erroneous facts. To top it off, the news editor decided to write the errata, two months after the artilce and even that errata was erroneous in nature.

Now This.

What does it take to be aknowledged in your own University Paper? It is January. It is troubling to think that even if certain news is given to the Varsitarian, they do not consider certain news ground breaking or important.

I have always been proud of being a Thomasian. I have been in UST as a student from 1989 to 1995 and as a teacher from 1999 till now. The editors of the Varsitarian were my former students. Oh well.

If anyone reads this entry and has friends in the Varsi, tell them about this. If they do listen and do something about this oversight, thank them for me. But I will keep well away.

Last year, I sat in the waiting area of the Varsitarian and cried because my heart was broken. Did I look like a frail older woman to be laughed at I wonder, when the kind News Editor walked me out, was he sincere?

Recluse City

2006-12-29T04:00:00.000-08:00

I received a lot of books from my dear ones, in particular, Dearest Alvin from San Francisco who gave me nine rejuvinating books and my sister Lisa who gave me a Jorie Graham. And with the italian mini espresso maker from Abbie that makes two excruciating shots of glory every go, recluse city is all I've ever gone to this Christmas Break.

Yes Kit and Toni, I cleaned my room. You'd be so proud. I also noticed my selection of recipie books growing also with the rest of the bunch. And speaking of growing, I'm growing lavander well. The garden is loved well. Waiting for the lemons and pomegranates to ripen. The purple basil has dark purple leaves in this weather. I might serve fresh pasta with these precious leaves to the right people.

My March Birthday I definitely intend to celebrate and here's an advanced wish list to all possible guests. You guys know that the food will be good so do give the appropriate thanks.

1. An ice cream maker

2. A big bag of dried porcini mushrooms

3. books and more books. Poetry or Culinary

4. a pasta maker

5. different plants. either fruit trees, herbs or gumamelas

6. cds of Tori Amos and Sting.

7. organic fertilizer for my plant friends

8. a black french bulldog

I'm ready for 2007.

Thank you, Kit, for your eyes

2006-12-24T04:06:00.000-08:00

A shoot for my ALIWW scrapbook gave me an opportunity to be proud of my dear friend kit kwe. She brought herself and her "staff" to a location I wanted to explore in a 1930's terno. Her pictures were deeply comforting to me. (I feel sometimes, I haven't seen myself since...) This junkshop in Sampaloc also made me feel whole somehow. I was among the ruins of certain dreams and discarded memories. I myself, as many others, am part of certain dreams and discarded memories. This is my favorite shot.

Beautiful 2006

2006-12-23T05:47:00.000-08:00

March this year, I was able to interact with wonderful artists on a video End to the Full Moon. I want to say thank you to Aia de Leon for arrangement and vocals, Louie Cordero (congratulations on your CCP 13 Artists Award) and Lara Agulto for motion animation, and Zach Lucero For mixing the track on the album.

ALIWW, thank you for the recognition as one of the Now Generation of Young Women Writers. I loved making my scrapbook and will continue to add more "stuff" in the coming years.

Dr. Christina Pantoja Hidalgo, thank you for guidance in non-fiction. The journey is painful and beautiful at the same time.

Grand Creator, thank you for saving Chin-chin and her mother. I have watercolor pencils and paper for her for christmas. She will be able to begin again.

Thank you, Abbie for my mini expresso that I will call Balzac. It will provide me with many wonderful hours of flavourful meditation.

I am humbled by this year and look forward to more of the unknown.

Independence Day

2006-06-11T21:13:00.001-07:00

Taking this long needed breath before school starts. Watching the sky and doing my laundry. Thinking about poetry and that beaten wife syndrome and how possibly to heal. I am free?

Tired of writing in real sentences. What made me think I could? Being the battered wife helps. Oh mind you it's not what you think. No husband or wife raised any steel hand. I left a place. Not a home. A place.

I miss you kitty baby. Oh, i don't want to talk in sentences anymore. I'm preparing to teach and be taught. I am little-girl scared. Fluttering.

I am alright.

Independence Day

2006-06-11T21:13:00.000-07:00

Dumaguete Travel Tidbits

2006-06-01T03:12:00.000-07:00

1. Lee's Super Plaza and Chicco's Deli at Why Not Disco have a substantial assortment of romantic goods like cheese, cold cuts and sausages for P20 to P70 even P100 less than Santi's in Manila. Case and point, shublieg, a vacuum pack of two, costs P41. Santi's brings the price to about P156. I saw mozzerella neatly cling wrapped and fist sized, ample for a pizza for four for only P 89.

2. Wine is better imported from Manila. A good Santi's wine has a price of P300 above. Buy your wine before you leave. Wine in Chicco's costs P600 a bottle. But their selections of grappa and port cost less. A good grappa is at P953 at Chiccos.

3. Camping cooks will be happy to know that gas cansiters for their stoves are available at Lee's Supermarket on the fourth floor. ( I was definitely worried that I wouldn't be able to cook because these canisters were banned on airplanes).

4. There is a super posh place on Siquijor called Coco Grove. You cannot cook there. They really take good care of rich people and foreigners and avoid the rest. Food is expensive but substantial. Ask to be pampered. There's a great camper's resort ala Castaway in Siquijor called Islander's Paradise for as low as P300 a day. You can cook there. Bring off lotion.

5. Island tours at Siquijor are at P500 for as many people and ask for a multicab. (the locals will try to get as much money as they can from you. Resist. Be zen. Where ever you are on the island, enjoy or hook up with a group to make expenses manageable.

6. The Apo Island Cove Resort has no running water. The whole island has electricity only from 6 pm to 10 pm. Bring off lotion. Lots of it. But people come to Apo for the marine sanctuary and the over all drop dead beauty of the place. I'm one of them. Talk about the crashing waves just lulling the toughest of hearts asleep.

7. The Wednesday Market at Malatapay is a must see. Goods from the city, mountains and Apo Island are for sale. Come around 9 am and scramble for lechon at P 250 a kilo. ¼ kilo is good for two and make sure you get a good slice of belly where you get equal amounts of skin, fat, and tender meat.

8. They also have lechon for sale at Lee’s Supermarket and this place near the new Chow King on Sunday. You’d be hard pressed for the good stuff any other day.

Nine Days in Dumaguete

2006-05-23T07:36:00.000-07:00

I arrived yesterday, yet I am still not here. Outside, the night is still a Dumaguete night in front of the Silliman Alumni Dorm. The air is chilled with possible rain. Salt clings on the ropes of wind. My garden seems filled with the tiny shadows of centuries old acacias. I can't hear the city just yet and I am grateful for that.

I've been coming home to Dumaguete nearly twelve years now. I feel the flux between past and future. It is never present. I am always between memory and hope.

All the layers and textures of blue. More than the human mind can absorb. The endless light changing the sea like a piece of experimental music. The midnight blue stare of a crab. The night coming between your thighs. Oh my forever love, Dumaguete. My husband, my wife, my mentor.

All the layers of nature still my heart. Other sounds quiet me. Cicadas, ocean waves, wind through massive trees everywhere. The clearest water on this earth is in Siquijor. The most magical castaway island is Apo.

I am still dizzy with love.

I've come here golden and hot. I've unpacked shoes with grains of white sand trickling timeless. Malongs smelling like fresh fish. I have a strength in my eyes. A tidal heaviness in the hips and fingers. And half a heart.

P.S. End to the Full Moon arranged and sung by Aia de Leon of Imago, from the book cd Reaching Destination is on MTV!

The Soul Project: Journey into the Self through Words

2006-04-30T22:32:00.001-07:00

I am happy to say that 2007 is my tenth year as a Creative Writing Teacher.

Teaching Creative Writing is just as important as writing Creative Writing. I have always been passionate about spreading the rapture of the Craft beacause I understand that things are forgotten when people stop believing.

A Basic Creative Writing Class is not there to create award winners. It is there to give hope, and to show the students what one can possibly be in his or her heart for even one moment. It is there to present a world, a life, a passion. A Creative Writing teacher's best hope is that they would at least try to let themselves feel something through words.

A Basic Creative Writing Teacher should be patient and determined to teach the writing life. Must say things simply. Not talk down.

Spread the Craft. Don't keep it for yourself. When you die, it dies with you. Immortality is about progeny.

Check out this link to listen to fledgeling writers. They made this recording as a Christmas gift for the class.

P.S. Creative Writing in UST is from June to October. This means that they made this recording with out the need to be graded. They just made it because they needed to be heard.

The Soul Project: Journey into the Self Through Words

The Softer than Cotton Launch of END TO THE FULL MOON by Aia Deleon and Nerisa del Carmen Guevara

2006-04-30T07:36:00.000-07:00

Check out the wonderful eye of ACID42 on March 25, 2006.

On the Screen, The motion animation video created by the rockstar artists Lara Agulto and Louie Cordero.

Cynthia Alexander & Nerisa's Bday at Cubao X

The Making of Reaching Destination a.k.a the true story and spread the word!

2006-04-28T09:23:00.000-07:00

REACHING DESTINATION BOOK AND CD IS "SUPPOSED" TO BE AVAILABLE AT NATIONAL BOOKSTORE AND POWERBOOKS. START A CLAMOR! CALL 7313101 AND ASK THE UST PUBLISHING HOUSE TO DELIVER!

Nerisa shares her Story

“It was a process of faith that relied heavily on friendships and God. I had friends but I had no PA or manager. Ibang klase ang pagka-indie ko; it’s a running joke. I’d say, “Indi ko alam pero ginawa ko pa rin.” From fetching artists, buying food, to coordinating with the artists, the publishing house, the press, the pressing and packaging plant, the launch space. It hadn’t been done before, this book and CD.”

From REGARDING DESTINATIONS
Luis Katigbak, Pulp Magazine
November 2004

The search for Home begins with a point of departure and ends with a destination.
In between, there are poems.
Reaching Destination is a collection of poetry I had written from 1994 to 2004. It’s all about waiting for the one word that will lead me to the one line that will bring me back Home.
This Project is not a coming home (that word will come) but a showing of where i had been and where i am going. It is a slide show in words and music. And I have been places, been with people and have crossed some borders. Like this border between music and poetry.
I wanted so much to unite with the music and artists I so loved.
Reaching Destination is this union. It is my poetry set to music and voice. Everyone involved, I spent beautiful time with and we celebrated our friendship with the combination of poetry, voice and music.
This is the first poetry book set to music by top alternative artists in the Philippines.
Let us celebrate Destinations and the hope of getting There.

Regarding Destination : An e-nter view with Pulp’s Luis Katigbak

1. How did the whole project come about? How did you
first come up with the idea, and how did you gather
collaborators?
Nerisa says!
After I wrote "Closing the Sky" in 1996, I thought, "Hey, I hear music in this." Not music TO this (reggae playing in the background and my poem read out loud). I thought, "I want this to be a song someday."
But, hey, fresh out of med, fresh into creative writing, it was just a whim.
Then when I threw myself out into the Night in 1997, I met so many madmen and madwomen mad for life and I knew that the World had given me a way to make that whim possible. But not just yet.
May 15, 2003, left with myself again, I went to rehearsals at Grace Nono's studio and meekly said, "I want to make a cd." Grace didn't even blink. She gave this huge Destiny smile, led me to her office after rehearsals and took a pencil, scribbled on some scratch paper all the steps I needed to do. Then she said, "Go, Neri."
I think the project had so much to do with answering the question, Why are you Here, you crazy girl?
Having had so many lives, (med student, creative writing student, teacher, dancer and who knows what else...) I needed to make sense of the journey to Here. So was the whim just a whim or part of a Destiny bigger than myself? I am Here, after all.
I did not need to gather collaborators. Those first few months in 2003, I took 50 poems I had written the last ten years with me to all my gigs. Even to my gig in North Korea where I met Peking Opera Tenor Henry Tong. Before the set, hanging out, I'd say,"hey, would you like to have a look at this?"
So whoever connected with the energy of the poem arranged and recorded the poem as song. And every track was an answer to that question. So the World answered me 14 times.

2. What were the processes -- creative and logistical
-- involved in publishing and launching a book/CD?
Generally, how did you work with the musicians and how
did you pitch/produce the project?
Ibang klase ang pagka-indie ko. Its a running joke. I'd say,"Indi ko alam pero ginawa ko pa rin."
The reason why I had my 50 poems at hand all the time, even during gigs, was because that same May day I promised myself I would finish my M.A. and have a book published by 2004.
(Ambitious, you might say. But hey, left to myself again for the nth time in my life, I thought putting myself to work was better than sitting, crying and being depressed about being alone again. Let's just say, it had to take these many projects to forget about being alone.
Yes, Luis, heart-broken lang ako. Babaw no pero ang daming nangyari dahil sa kababawan, hehe don't print this)
I put upon myself a deadly time table. I needed to FOCUS. It was a domino set that I was playing with, you see. If I didn't finish my M.A., I wouldn't be able to have a book published (I didn't have money to publish independently, a University press needed academic affirmation.) and I wouldn't launch the cd without the book and vise versa.
I proposed this project to NCCA. Proposal was denied. I had my salary every month and used it to pay for everything I needed to pay for. Grace had always said, be professional. These artists were not only my friends, they were fellow artists that needed to eat and create comfortably. It was a shared respect.
I finished my M.A. late January, we finished recording late June, Bob Aves mixed the tracks June, Zach mastered the tracks July, Teta Tulay and I began and finished layout of the book by late July, Teta Tulay and Datu Arellano worked on the CD layout all of August. We launched August 31, 2004 at Conspiracy! All this while teaching nearly 400 students at UST. Whew!
Did I think that all this was possible? Yes.
Did I think it was going to happen as envisioned? No. But it happened, didn't it. Waaahooo.
3. What were the processes -- creative and logistical
-- involved in publishing and launching a book/CD?
Generally, how did you work with the musicians and how
did you pitch/produce the project?
It was a process of faith that relied heavily on friendships and God.
I had friends but I had no P.A. or manager. Indie. Indie. Indie. From fetching artists, buying food, coordinating with the artists, the publishing house, the press, the pressing and packaging plant, the launch space.
It hadn't been done before, this book and cd.
All the way around, I guess, we just trusted each others’ capacity to create and manage.
I didn't even know that the term for me was PRODUCER till later on. I still get wide-eyed thinking I PRODUCED a CD.
Every poem was chosen, not assigned to each artist. They chose the poems because the poems had an energy which they, too, had experienced.
By making the poem into song, the artists dealt with their own personal experiences with loss, love, separation, isolation and hope. So this project is both mine and theirs.

4. Any particluarly rewarding or amusing experiences
on the way to creating and launching "Reaching
Destination"? Would you like to share anything about
particular songs/poems?
Usually, ang mga reactions ng mga artists ay "wow naman. ang bigat ng tula mo. I was depressed for two days...."
Oo nga naman. The poems were sad, always yearning, honestly and quietly just there...
Oh wow. This was both a learning and a rewarding experience. School of Art and Life Management and all of that!
*I was going to drop Dear Land Lady from the book and three AM on a Saturday Barbie called and said that was the poem she had connected with and put the phone near the piano and played the song. I didn't drop the poem after that.
*Mr. Tong, an eighty year old tenor, and I met up for The 22nd April Spring Friendship Festival in Pyongyang, North Korea in the summer. On our way to Pyongyang, we had a stop over at Shanghai and in a hotel restaurant there, I listened to the sad sound of the erhu and was able to write the poem Shanghai Love. It was Mr Tong's talk of war and lovers never returning that curled around that sad music. Mr. Tong loved it and translated it into mandarin and wanted to make it into a song. I took him up on his promise a month after and waited for him to come to the studio and record. Weeks passed and the "mood" that Mr. Tong had waited to come, didn't come. So I thought, "Hey let's just record you reading the translation and we have an erhu master come and jam with you." He agreed. I fetched him from Binondo, brought him to the studio, and when he stepped into the studio he said, "this place is so familiar. im in the mood. do you have paper?" He wrote the melody in less than an hour, they practiced for another hour and we recorded it immediately. I was floored by that miracle. I was totally floored. (Mr. Tong died in his sleep three months after re-cording the track. I think he is in the Peking Opera in the sky.)
*Badjao thought of the Kalinga chants Session Road and Baguio Poem on his 6 hour bus ride from Baguio to Manila just a few hours before recording.
*Jenny Carino made the melody of Sacred Mountain in 10 minutes.
*Aia de Leon of Imago combined 3 poems and made her haunting track End to the Full Moon. She always thought out of the box and she challenged herself and came up with this lounge beauty.
*Gabby Malvar I had met through Barbie. I had never heard him play. He wanted to come on the project and I agreed. I trusted our energy. Now we have Between Walls, a solo piano track with his daughter on soprano.
*Carol Bello woke her brother up that morning to play guitar for the recording of the track Acid. He came in so frazzeled and surprised but played beautifully anyway.

* We recorded all of Acid 42's tracks on Lionel Valdelleon’s bed.
5. Were all the poems used in the CD originally
written as poems, or were any of them written with
collaborators or song structures in mind?
Yes. The were poems before they were songs. They'd won Palancas and University awards. These things were first on notebooks and napkins. The song structures came from each artists’ personal take on the poem. Revisions on arrangements were nil.
6. Who performed during the CD launch (and what did they
perform?) What are your impressions of that night?
The perfomances happened in order of the track list. except for 27 and Beinte Siete which we the last ones read.
3 artists were not around to perform. aia of imago which I and my co-dancer Louanne Kalipayan danced instead. Mr. Henry Tong was in Shanghai so Thomasian Writers Guild member Tim Nubla spoke the track. And Dwight Gaston couldn't make it so Professor and poet Ralph Semino Galan performed the Hiligaynon translation of 27.
That night, I felt like I was in the eye of the storm. I was moving about taking care of artist needs like drink stubs and food stubs and should have been dead tired before the launch started but I wasn't
People were asking me, aren't you nervous? I'd say, no because this is what I do. this is what I am about. I had never been more sure of these lines.
7. Any thoughts or impressions or realizations you
would like to share about "Reaching Destination," now
that it's out in the world?
We journey. Sometimes we make it to a Destination. Sometimes we don't. The thing is we have to try to get There.
I never realized that this was a big deal till it was a big deal. The project started on a whim. Am just glad that I celebrated with friends.

8. What's next for you? :)
Another book. Another journey. Another destination till I find the one word that will lead me to the one line that will lead me back Home.

Nerisa, she travels with her eyes closed and her heart open.

She is called many things; mermaid, diwata, mad woman. She smiles at those descriptions knowing each one of us contains the same magic to be just that. She is basically a traveler in search of other travelers.

Nerisa del Carmen Guevara was a medicine student once at the University of Sto. Tomas. Was a graduate of B.S. Biology once in the same Univeristy in1993. Was Thomasian Poet of the Year once, with a record breaking grand slam of first second and third places in the USTETIKA in 1995. Was an Amelia Lapena Awardee for Poetry once in 1996 and then in 1997. Was a Don Carlos Palanca Memorial Awardee for Poetry in English once in 1999. She finished her Master of Arts Major in Creative Writing this April, 2004 at the University of the Philippines, Diliman.

She was an apprentice pangalay dancer of the Ligaya Fernando-Amilbangsa Alun-alun Dance Circle.

She has performed with Grace Nono, Joey Ayala, Cynthia Alexander and Pinikpikan.

She has produced her first book and CD of songs called REACHING DESTINATION, Poems and the Search for Home. The Book and CD project ran against Gary Valenciano’s Soulful and was the only one to receive a Special Citation for Best Secular Album in the 27th Catholic Mass Media Awards.

She is looking forward to being eighty, art-less, just an armrest for a child.

In Praise of REACHING DESTINATION

“… this exemplary project brings together tremendous creative juices from Baguio to Paranaque, from Silay to Quezon City… Nerisa, what have you pulled off? More than fision woman. Fission! Must be the times. O why are we so blessed? By such terrific divas?

Alfred Yuson
“A Bevy of Divas”
Arts and Culture, The Philippine Star
October 25, 2004

“We could explore new metaphysical territories with Nerisa del Carmen Guevara’s Reaching Destination… something fresh to the ears, at last.

Igan D’Bayan
“Cosmic Chopsuey”
Audiosyncrasy. The Philippine Star
November 12, 2004

“The CD is richly layered. This is the sound of your generation! An organizational feat as well.”

Grace Nono
Cultural Icon, Musician
Executive Producer, Tao Records

“Guevara may have intended to write her poetry small. But within the limits of memory, she provides, and shares with the reader an entire world where yesterday is lived and living, and where one can bask in the mellow air of the then experienced now.”

Ma. Nicole Pauline C. Cruz
“Memory in Small Things”
Literary, The Varsitarian
September 28, 2004

“Nerisa del Carmen Guevara has fashioned her own mythology in her first book of poetry, Reaching Destination.”

Cirilo F. Bautista
“Queries and Books”
Breaking Signs, Philippine Panorama
October 24,2004

I love writers who know their science

2006-04-24T08:34:00.001-07:00

I wish everyone a garden where all kinds of shit can be used to grow something beautiful. Without gardens, shit just piles up on more shit. Now, where do I buy lady bugs?

The Ladybugs

by Nancy Willard

It's true. I invited them into my home,
four thousand ladybugs from the Sierras.
I paid for their passage.
I paid for their skilled labor.
I was desperate when I read the notice
in a mail-order catalog showing flea zappers
and organic devices for vaporizing mold.

Are pests killing your trees and shrubs?
Ladybugs are the answer.

They arrived, famished and sleepy,
in a muslin bag slim as a pencil case,
or a reticule for opera glasses,
or very small change.
For once in my life I read the instructions
for sending my private army into the world.

The ladybugs will want a drink
after their long journey.
Sprinkle the sack before releasing them.

I shook handfuls of water over them.
Drops big as bombs pounded their shelter,
a mass baptism into our human ways.
They did not buzz or beat their wings,
but as the warmth of my house woke them,
I saw a shifting of bodies, of muscles rippling,
like waves adjusting themselves to a passing boat.

Do not release the ladybugs during the heat of the day
or while the sun is shining.

Under the full moon I carried my guests
to the afflicted catalpa waving its green flags.
I untied the bag. I reached in and felt a tickling,
a pulsing of lives small as a watch spring.
I seized a handful and tossed them into the branches.
They clung to my hand for safety.
Their brothers and sisters,
smelling the night air,
hung on my thumb, my wrist,
and my arm sleeved in ladybugs, baffled, muttering
in the silent tick of their language,
Where are we? What does she want of us?

Do not release too many at one time.
A tablespoon of ladybugs on each shrub
and a handful on each tree should keep them
pest-free. Keep on hand, always, a small bag
of ladybugs in your refrigerator.
Do not freeze.

I have made my abode with the ladybugs
and they have chosen me as their guardian,
because the meek shall inherit the earth,
because I found one at rest in the porch
of my ear, because I did not harm the one
that spent the night under the deep ridge
of my collarbone, or the one that crossed
my knuckles like a ring seeking
the perfect finger.

Imagine That

2006-04-22T00:50:00.000-07:00

You Should Be a Science Fiction Writer

Your ideas are very strange, and people often wonder what planet you're from.
And while you may have some problems being "normal," you'll have no problems writing sci-fi.
Whether it's epic films, important novels, or vivid comics...
Your own little universe could leave an important mark on the world!

What Type of Writer Should You Be?

Sampaguita flowers by the handful

2006-04-21T06:25:00.001-07:00

I remember a some-one giving me three living stems of sampaguita from her mother's garden, the narrow bodies of lemon grass, and young roots of pandan in 2002. My rooftop room was barely built. The narrow leges were filled with sawdust. I thought, if I could not grow love here, I'd grow the plants of love.

It is pretty much a Witches Garden. My first inspiration was a Wiccan Handbook that had a few pages on the symbolisms and uses of certain herbs. It is definitely a Kitchen Garden filled with so many delicious smells. All are plants for the self. All are plants of love.

Those were the beginnings of my gardening on the narrow spaces of my rooftop. After four years of gardening, I have sampaguitas, jasmine, rosemary, purple basil, thai basil, italian basil, mexican oregano, arugula, lavander, dill, sage, tarragon, flat leaf parsley, garlic chives, a laurel tree i call Wife Poetry and a pomegranate shrub I call Husband Death.

Gardening taught me patience, foresight, and how to cook Italian. Gardening also taught me that everything needs shit to grow.

The sampaguitas are sprawling over the terracotta tile. The lemon grass is a huge monster head near the sage, enough for stuffing chicken every now end then. All the lovely lovely herbs enough for two to four people for dinner every two weeks.

Tonight, taking flowers from these lovely branches was like picking little heavens from low branches. The pure white smell in the cold evening air makes me feel like a truly accomplished human being. I take a handful for my Mother's altar, a handful for my Father's altar and a handful for my own altar.

Snipping a few sprigs for herbs for pasta, lamb, pork and potatoes is trancendental.

I follow three simple rules: Water twice a day. Fertilize every fifteen days. Thank the plants for their wisdom.

I have a different herb dealer now and his name is Ryan and he has a stall in the Manila Seedling bank. :)

Surviving Wild-The Rants

2006-04-20T08:44:00.000-07:00

When I am not writing, I am dancing. When I am not dancing, I am gardening. When I am gardening, I think of cooking. I cook in my garden on my little camping stove, in my little pots and pans. All the time.

I have a rooftop room, hot and cold water, an air conditioner but I like eating close to the ground. I sleep with all my windows and doors open. I wake up when the curtains billow. I love feeling the wind run madly into my room knocking books down. I would rather walk than ride and if I have to ride anything I'd take trains, boats, and buses. Always de luxe but never first class. I love being with people. I don't necessarily talk to them. I love being still around them. I love watching how people take life on.

There is probably no possible way to "civilize" me.

I was raised to love wide spaces. And I don't mean mansions.

I love spinning in the fields. Rolling on hillsides. I am more afraid of people than of snakes.

I believe writers, twenty and above who have survived writing well after graduation and literary workshops and awards, are strong wild ones who learned to say I don't ....ing care about you ....ers I will write.

I believe dancers, twenty and above who have survived dancing well after graduation and dance workshops and awards, are strong wild ones who learned to say I don't ....ing care about you ....ers I will dance.

Plain clothes folks who laugh are dense about their own lack of the primal dreaming out loud. Worse, they might be people who allow fashion to exist only in books, movies and the ramp, maybe even only in their own writing.

Oh, and people who call other people gold diggers are the gold diggers. I will never understand such crass behavior from seemingly open-minded people. (Who can ever get over that?)

Some people get hurt and never recover. Beware of the people who get hurt and grow wild.

Before the April 4 Likhaan Teachers Conference on Creative Writing

2006-04-20T08:38:00.000-07:00

Took my boots out of the shoe rack. The boots are out! The boots are out! It is time to start walking. The official schedule is out. The unofficial schedule is in the heart.

I’’m going to Baguio as an observer, a teacher. To a Creative Writing Teachers Conference. I’m excited. It’s part of an evolution. It’s a commitment to a vocation. I am always thrilled about the chance to do better.

Of course there is the bonus of coming home to my Baguio family for a few days. Two of my friends offered me a free ride to Baguio on the fourth. One is a Blissful Vegetarian. One is a happy carnivore. Both of them are leaving at separate times.

If the seminar wasn’t going to start on the fourth, I would’ve been so happy to take any of these roadtrips.

Always, before a trip, laundry. Planning which clothes to bring, to wear. My fingers are water logged. But that flutter inside me hasn’t been washed away.

I’m packing the camping stove too. And the mini blender. The portable pots and pans. I might sneak a fabulous stir fry at night. Or an indulgent strawberry smoothie.

Hmmmm. the humming. Hmmm. Until the world dissolves.

Simple Joys

2006-04-20T08:33:00.001-07:00

• scrambled eggs with fresh ground pepper and a pat of butter cooked on a camping stove.
• Short walk around my rooftop herb garden. Hoping that the sage takes to bigger pots. Dreaming of a bucket of thyme. The dill are well enough. Would love another pot of dill.
• Haven’t smoked a cigarette since March 28.
• Been using the mini blender I bought for my birthday. Had a banana yoghurt smoothie yesterday. A melon shake with muscovado sugar today. Healthy! It doesn’t crush ice well though.

Thoughts on losing my cellphone and the video launch

2006-03-26T19:49:00.000-08:00

Week before march 25, I kept on texting all my friends about turning thirty three and celebrating my birthday with a softer than cotton video launch. March 21, day before my birthday, I dropped my phone in a cab and wasn't able to remind people about the launch.

Must be attention span. Must be that we are all preoccupied with one thing or another. I emailed everyone I could.
Oh how lonely it was.

It was art. It was beyond any human feeling. It was a good launch.

Thank you Neil, Kit, Cholo, Gelo, Sonny and Keith. Thank you Toni Baby for those raw songs. Thank you Cactus Toni for making it feel like we were twenty seven. Thank you Cynthia. We will always intertwyne. Thank you Julie, Ayn, and Kim. Thank you aiza and chen.

Thank you Lara Agulto and Louie Cordero for such a beautiful video.

Everything will end soon like all love will.

Padayon!

I love to dance

2006-03-03T04:34:00.000-08:00

"She is more of a performer than a writer."
overheard during a deliberation

What makes one more than the other? All I want to do is talk to the world in as many languages. Dance has grammar. Is a language. The most literal of all languages, obvoiusly are these words.

Padayon!

She's turning thirty-three

2006-02-26T20:57:00.000-08:00

Black dress, black tube, blue jeans with black elastic ribbing

2006-02-13T20:09:00.000-08:00

A curly top Baby who has been so busy at law school came by and spent the weekend. We had so much fun. Nothing much can truly describe happiness. She called a few hours ago because the friend that we were talking about the last few days had died of a heart failure. She was twenty-two.

Curly Top called and wailed. She wailed so loud over my celphone. Eternal sobs. Having experienced so much death myself, I just told her to breathe. I took a long hot bath and paced in my room in a yellow towel. What do you really wear to see the dead?

I wanted to feel casual about it so I put on my jeans. I wanted to show my grief so I wore a black sleeveless shirt dress. I wanted to layer the outfit so I wore a black tube with buttons running down in front like a strapless vest. (It sounds like a terrible combination. Well this is a terrible and confusing time.)

Then I waitied for Curly Top to come by and fetch me. Waited for some news of where, when and how and why. My newly shampooed hair was cold on my back. I couldn't identify sickness from sadness.

Sunday, uncle's old company shirt, barefoot

2006-02-12T14:22:00.000-08:00

Waiting for a student assistant and typing along, the mayas have left the rooftop to eat. Sunday, sunday, sunday. I think of all my Babies and their interactions with the world and know that my role is to watch, watch, watch the world spin, spin, spin, around them. I have never been thirty-two. After the age of eleven, I think I turned thirteen four years ago and stopped counting. I am about to be thirty-three and I have a little more than a month to know what thirty-three is about.

Thirty three pieces of silver in the hands of Judas?
The age when Jesus was crucified?

This old company shirt, kitchy logo of Taka Shoes, was from my Uncle who is already dead. Maybe as the role of the Guevaras in the shoe industry is already dead. Of course, I will look back.

Barefoot with tired feet. Last night, a reading with old friends and people I will always love even when everything is done. (What is this wind blowing through my door? The summer heat is starting to make me homesick. It was Mickey's Birthday last Thursday. I will have to buy him something magical, my giant brother.)

Other Things. Poets and their many levels of energy.
1. It is best to just be silent and watch the bigger aura glow, a new resolution.

2. Avoid people who don't seem to want to be your friend after five polite times.

3. We are all, always, absolutely right. Nod frequently and return every minute to your sacred space.

Thought 1

2006-02-10T16:53:00.001-08:00

A Few Lines from Rehoboth Beach
by Fleda Brown

Dear friend, you were right: the smell of fish and foam

and algae makes one green smell together. It clears

my head. It empties me enough to fit down in my own

skin for a while, singleminded as a surfer. The first

day here, there was nobody, from one distance

to the other. Rain rose from the waves like steam,

dark lifted off the dark. All I could think of

were hymns, all I knew the words to: the oldest

motions tuning up in me. There was a horseshoe crab

shell, a translucent egg sack, a log of a tired jetty,

and another, and another. I walked miles, holding

my suffering deeply and courteously, as if I were holding

a package for somebody else who would come back

like sunlight. In the morning, the boardwalk opened

wide and white with sun, gulls on one leg in the slicks.

Cold waves, cold air, and people out in heavy coats,

arm in arm along the sheen of waves. A single boy

in shorts rode his skimboard out thigh-high, making

intricate moves across the March ice-water. I thought

he must be painfully cold, but, I hear you say, he had

all the world emptied, to practice his smooth stand.

From Do Not Peel the Birches by Fleda Brown. Copyright © 1993 by Fleda Brown. Reprinted with permission of the author and Purdue University Press. All rights reserved.