PRICK blank page—or screen—with a pin until pain or paean begins… and blood off one’s veins flows out, spills over the empty surface. That, my dear, is how writing is done.
So with a trowel our mentor/tormentor Raul S. Gonzalez of Bulacan pattered, battened that down into our thick skulls-- piece of cake inflicting such atrocity, all it takes is fine appreciation for or application to carnage, maybe acupuncture or doing prefrontal lobotomy, likely biopsy with an ax on some live carcass over at the Ombudsman.
Not for the squeamish.
‘Andali lang talaga ‘yang pasulat-sulat… kahit sinong gago’t gunggong kaya daw ‘yan… kahit pa galing ang salitang ‘sulat’ sa wika ng mga Arabogli’t Arabobo… solat = dasal, dalangin, oracion.
Sabi nga’y orare est laborare, laborare est orare…
So let us prey as a praying mantis does.
Parang pagtatanim lang pala ang bitiw ng mga kataga, kapag umilandang sa lupa o katawang lupa… nag-uugat, tumutubo, lumalagong tila balahibong pusa sa minumutya o tumatabal na talahib na kinukutya… kaya hindi totoo ‘yung sabi ni Dennis Fetalino, it takes all kinds… pinipili lang talaga ang mga binhi na ipupunla…
Parang muhon na isusuksok matapos sukatin ang lawak ng lupa para matukoy ang mga hangganan ng aangkining ari-arian, uh-duh, don’t you worry my dear, aararuhin at angkinin ko na ‘yang ari mo… sa paglulupa kasi, may aring di-natitinag at may aring natitinag and it makes sense and a lot of loving to know the difference for moaning full, whoopsydaisy, meaningful real estate development.
So let us pray, solat… so, la, ti, do.
The Benedictine monks had it down pat in principle… the how-it’s-done is something else in orare est laborare, laborare est orare… ah, the words are formed and mixed with light at the top of one’s head, then, drawn into the body as breath… goaded down along the spinal column, collected and held firmly at the diaphragm… and expressed out at the dan-tien or that spot two fingers width below the navel…
The method sure peals out a Harlan Ellison opus written at a single night’s sitting in 1966, “I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream.”
Or Boss Gonza himself sagely plying during the unlamented ancien regime, how incendiary expression won’t likely be extinguished in spite of censorship… censors can unmake the writing, but you can still make faces, words and censors won’t get in the way.
So that’s how benediction—blessing or blasting, basting or bashing—is done. And the top of the head won’t take in either the clear or the caliginous, light or darkness unless the energy center at the base of the spine is open for business. Figure that out, Dennis… kailangang bukas ang isipan, bukas ang magkabilang dulo ng gulugod—mula alulod hanggang tulatod-- para dumaloy ang bibitiwang basbas o sumpa.
As Richard Aregood who won the Pulitzer Prize for editorial writing at the Philadelphia Daily News in 1985 balks, “A big thing missing in lots of editorial pages is passion.”
So with a trowel our mentor/tormentor Raul S. Gonzalez of Bulacan pattered, battened that down into our thick skulls-- piece of cake inflicting such atrocity, all it takes is fine appreciation for or application to carnage, maybe acupuncture or doing prefrontal lobotomy, likely biopsy with an ax on some live carcass over at the Ombudsman.
Not for the squeamish.
‘Andali lang talaga ‘yang pasulat-sulat… kahit sinong gago’t gunggong kaya daw ‘yan… kahit pa galing ang salitang ‘sulat’ sa wika ng mga Arabogli’t Arabobo… solat = dasal, dalangin, oracion.
Sabi nga’y orare est laborare, laborare est orare…
So let us prey as a praying mantis does.
Parang pagtatanim lang pala ang bitiw ng mga kataga, kapag umilandang sa lupa o katawang lupa… nag-uugat, tumutubo, lumalagong tila balahibong pusa sa minumutya o tumatabal na talahib na kinukutya… kaya hindi totoo ‘yung sabi ni Dennis Fetalino, it takes all kinds… pinipili lang talaga ang mga binhi na ipupunla…
Parang muhon na isusuksok matapos sukatin ang lawak ng lupa para matukoy ang mga hangganan ng aangkining ari-arian, uh-duh, don’t you worry my dear, aararuhin at angkinin ko na ‘yang ari mo… sa paglulupa kasi, may aring di-natitinag at may aring natitinag and it makes sense and a lot of loving to know the difference for moaning full, whoopsydaisy, meaningful real estate development.
So let us pray, solat… so, la, ti, do.
The Benedictine monks had it down pat in principle… the how-it’s-done is something else in orare est laborare, laborare est orare… ah, the words are formed and mixed with light at the top of one’s head, then, drawn into the body as breath… goaded down along the spinal column, collected and held firmly at the diaphragm… and expressed out at the dan-tien or that spot two fingers width below the navel…
The method sure peals out a Harlan Ellison opus written at a single night’s sitting in 1966, “I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream.”
Or Boss Gonza himself sagely plying during the unlamented ancien regime, how incendiary expression won’t likely be extinguished in spite of censorship… censors can unmake the writing, but you can still make faces, words and censors won’t get in the way.
So that’s how benediction—blessing or blasting, basting or bashing—is done. And the top of the head won’t take in either the clear or the caliginous, light or darkness unless the energy center at the base of the spine is open for business. Figure that out, Dennis… kailangang bukas ang isipan, bukas ang magkabilang dulo ng gulugod—mula alulod hanggang tulatod-- para dumaloy ang bibitiwang basbas o sumpa.
As Richard Aregood who won the Pulitzer Prize for editorial writing at the Philadelphia Daily News in 1985 balks, “A big thing missing in lots of editorial pages is passion.”
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