Wednesday, June 04, 2003
[cdj] 2 tylenol pms later, and i'm in america again
I would not have gone to the Philippines if Papa had not died.
Last I'd gone was 1986. I was just ten going on eleven then.
Impressions of the Philippines were all of oppression: my young eyes
could only see the poor children begging and crawling on huge piles
of garbage, the tortured skin of my mosquito bites, the heat and the pollution, the stale and sour smelling house of my grandparents on Esteban Abada.
Now the Philippines, or at least Manila, is far more commercialized, full of air conditioned malls with stateside labels. SUVs with drivers get you around, and internet cafes and Starbucks abound. Lots of trendy and colorful restaurants and clubs. Far more palatable for a balikbayan like me.
I grew up thinking and feeling that I have never had a Filipino face, that I'd never really be defined by my Filipino-ness, my roots. I am and will be what I make of myself, I believe(d). Of course, in these days of expanding consciousness, which were precipitated and perhaps even premeditated, by the passing of my father and his energy. I felt a realness, a galvanization of any steel that I acquired to defend myself against his violence, his energy passing to me, the transference of the Animus of my father into and unto me. I wear his clothes, his shirts, socks, his watch. I wear his ambition and charisma. But I have my own discipline, drive and force to push the dream to the hilt. Whatever his dream was, some mastery, some domination. Not fame or money, just power.
Only in my father's death, I am fulfilled in some legacy of machismo - what he only dreamed of, I can complete.
There's a cock crowing next door as dawn breaks through the windows of my old room in San Francisco. The foghorns which plagued me once were good company as I paced through the dawn in the stupor of jet lag. Cocks are wild in the Philippines, they're always strutting around neighborhoods.
The feathered ones, more often in daylight.
Papa opened a door I never wanted to enter - a sense of my history, tradition, culture, belonging, pride, failure - but I never dared admit to myself that it might truly be a source of personal power to me, that it would animate me more fully. But the country has welcomed me, appreciated me, supported me, fed me and held me while I cried for the loss of my first love/hate relationship. I feel inspired by their warmth and willingness to help.
Even if only to feed you when you are hungry.
I do not feel abandoned as much because of the loss of Papa because he has left me with his influence, friendships, and trusted family to watch carefully over me.
I grieve fully now because I am home.
In the Catholic tradition the wake is about 5 days long. 24/7 a family member must be with the body to guard it, as the chapel is open and the corpse is on view all the time. During this time ones grieving sit and cry and laugh and share stories and eat and sing and embrace - together. There is reflection, there is prayer. There is life, and there is hope. The grieving ritual was helpful, healthy, comforting. Not like the U.S. where you only get one day to be overwhelmed by mourners and not having enough time for your own grief. The sisters sang at the memorial, put together a slideshow of photos.
We drive to the crematorium. One more ceremony. Some singing. Another prayer. The last look at the corpse. The opening of the casket.
Tintin, my sister who is only 9, loved to pat Papa's belly. She was unafraid to touch the corpse, reaching in to pat his belly one last time. Zandi, who is 18, throws herself on the casket. Nikki, 17, refused to look at the corpse.
A window opened and we watched and sang as his body was lifted from the casket and placed into the incineration container.
I know what it is now to have cries wrenched from my heart, to endure the worst kind of heartbreak. It has zeroed me out to all previous loss. None could compare.
And so I have been walking in a dream, walking and talking and laughing and singing.
I sang at a convent for a group of nuns called the Pink Sisters. Their serene demeanors, patience and delicacy rang in their haunting voices raised in unison, the acoustics amplifying the keening and tuning it directly into my pain. I am not Catholic. But I was on my knees, sobbing, holding a pink handkerchief to my mouth. I felt like someone cut clean through the forming scab of Papa's loss. And the blood just spilled out in tears, flowing ceaselessly, quietly.
It is 6.23 a.m. in San Francisco, CA. on Weds, 6/4/03.
It is 9.11 p.m. in Quezon City, Philippines on Weds, 6/4/03.
I feel I am in both places at the same time.
Last I'd gone was 1986. I was just ten going on eleven then.
Impressions of the Philippines were all of oppression: my young eyes
could only see the poor children begging and crawling on huge piles
of garbage, the tortured skin of my mosquito bites, the heat and the pollution, the stale and sour smelling house of my grandparents on Esteban Abada.
Now the Philippines, or at least Manila, is far more commercialized, full of air conditioned malls with stateside labels. SUVs with drivers get you around, and internet cafes and Starbucks abound. Lots of trendy and colorful restaurants and clubs. Far more palatable for a balikbayan like me.
I grew up thinking and feeling that I have never had a Filipino face, that I'd never really be defined by my Filipino-ness, my roots. I am and will be what I make of myself, I believe(d). Of course, in these days of expanding consciousness, which were precipitated and perhaps even premeditated, by the passing of my father and his energy. I felt a realness, a galvanization of any steel that I acquired to defend myself against his violence, his energy passing to me, the transference of the Animus of my father into and unto me. I wear his clothes, his shirts, socks, his watch. I wear his ambition and charisma. But I have my own discipline, drive and force to push the dream to the hilt. Whatever his dream was, some mastery, some domination. Not fame or money, just power.
Only in my father's death, I am fulfilled in some legacy of machismo - what he only dreamed of, I can complete.
There's a cock crowing next door as dawn breaks through the windows of my old room in San Francisco. The foghorns which plagued me once were good company as I paced through the dawn in the stupor of jet lag. Cocks are wild in the Philippines, they're always strutting around neighborhoods.
The feathered ones, more often in daylight.
Papa opened a door I never wanted to enter - a sense of my history, tradition, culture, belonging, pride, failure - but I never dared admit to myself that it might truly be a source of personal power to me, that it would animate me more fully. But the country has welcomed me, appreciated me, supported me, fed me and held me while I cried for the loss of my first love/hate relationship. I feel inspired by their warmth and willingness to help.
Even if only to feed you when you are hungry.
I do not feel abandoned as much because of the loss of Papa because he has left me with his influence, friendships, and trusted family to watch carefully over me.
I grieve fully now because I am home.
In the Catholic tradition the wake is about 5 days long. 24/7 a family member must be with the body to guard it, as the chapel is open and the corpse is on view all the time. During this time ones grieving sit and cry and laugh and share stories and eat and sing and embrace - together. There is reflection, there is prayer. There is life, and there is hope. The grieving ritual was helpful, healthy, comforting. Not like the U.S. where you only get one day to be overwhelmed by mourners and not having enough time for your own grief. The sisters sang at the memorial, put together a slideshow of photos.
We drive to the crematorium. One more ceremony. Some singing. Another prayer. The last look at the corpse. The opening of the casket.
Tintin, my sister who is only 9, loved to pat Papa's belly. She was unafraid to touch the corpse, reaching in to pat his belly one last time. Zandi, who is 18, throws herself on the casket. Nikki, 17, refused to look at the corpse.
A window opened and we watched and sang as his body was lifted from the casket and placed into the incineration container.
I know what it is now to have cries wrenched from my heart, to endure the worst kind of heartbreak. It has zeroed me out to all previous loss. None could compare.
And so I have been walking in a dream, walking and talking and laughing and singing.
I sang at a convent for a group of nuns called the Pink Sisters. Their serene demeanors, patience and delicacy rang in their haunting voices raised in unison, the acoustics amplifying the keening and tuning it directly into my pain. I am not Catholic. But I was on my knees, sobbing, holding a pink handkerchief to my mouth. I felt like someone cut clean through the forming scab of Papa's loss. And the blood just spilled out in tears, flowing ceaselessly, quietly.
It is 6.23 a.m. in San Francisco, CA. on Weds, 6/4/03.
It is 9.11 p.m. in Quezon City, Philippines on Weds, 6/4/03.
I feel I am in both places at the same time.
[cdj update] Eat sleep sing think eat sweat sleep
Tue, 20 May 2003
I left SF on April 16.
I left LA for Manila April 18.
It is now May 21st in the Philippines, and I'm writing
to you from 15 hours in the future.
Papa has been dead now for little over a month.
I've not been working due to my RSI disability since
December of last year.
My father's youngest brother, Set (in whose house I
reside) just had a baby boy.
Friends have graduated, moved, and the romantic cycles
ebb and flow.
Time marches on.
My sister Toni and my cousin Cherry, who have stayed
behind with me here in Manila, are leaving to return
to the states next Wednesday.
My father's stateside memorial will take place on
father's day.
I was on tv here in Manila, and also in the states, on
the filipino channel.
I have lost a lot of weight as well as a cup size.
My real life is wherever I am, wherever I am conscious
of being able to contribute to others besides myself.
I will not begin recording until August/Sept of this
year.
I will be in San Francisco from June 1st - June 14th,
then in Los Angeles for the rest of the month.
In moments where I am quiet and alone
I think of these life changes
How I was ripe for them
How there is such a thing as fruition
and fortuitous timing
How my father in his passing
seems to have transferred to me
so many opportunities and powers
things he could not have given me
so effectively while he was alive
I think of my life in my City So Small
All the pieces of my heart
left lingering in corners of the park
from the top of Twin Peaks
to the expanse of Ocean Beach
The ghost of me walking through
neighborhoods I love, which I visit in my sleep
Lately my dreams have been fearful
Within the dreamscape I am confronted with ghosts
and I feel fear
But always I respond with flight
Rise up Rise up
There is power in each moment
where I can elevate beyond sentimentality
and fear and doubt
and I find I have no regrets
when I wake in the morning
to this new reality
I broke down the other day
and Toni said "I didn't know you felt this way,
you seem to be so together and mature about
everything."
I have few numbers to call out here
when I need a friendly voice
when I need a shoulder
or any other body part for that matter.
My Tagalog is improving. I am becoming more fluent
in my "native" language.
Toni's performance at her recent two concerts with Kuh
Ledesma was good. The audience received her well,
and it was wonderful to see Toni all glammed up
singing a song she wrote, playing the guitar
and backed by a professional band.
I am excited to go back to my City So Small
I will go to therapy and yoga and the park and the
ocean, indulge myself in the simplest of luxuries.
I will grieve my father, who I saw last in life
on my birthday in my City So Small.
Meanwhile, each day here begins and ends with music.
Love from across the ocean,
Carmen/Nini
I left SF on April 16.
I left LA for Manila April 18.
It is now May 21st in the Philippines, and I'm writing
to you from 15 hours in the future.
Papa has been dead now for little over a month.
I've not been working due to my RSI disability since
December of last year.
My father's youngest brother, Set (in whose house I
reside) just had a baby boy.
Friends have graduated, moved, and the romantic cycles
ebb and flow.
Time marches on.
My sister Toni and my cousin Cherry, who have stayed
behind with me here in Manila, are leaving to return
to the states next Wednesday.
My father's stateside memorial will take place on
father's day.
I was on tv here in Manila, and also in the states, on
the filipino channel.
I have lost a lot of weight as well as a cup size.
My real life is wherever I am, wherever I am conscious
of being able to contribute to others besides myself.
I will not begin recording until August/Sept of this
year.
I will be in San Francisco from June 1st - June 14th,
then in Los Angeles for the rest of the month.
In moments where I am quiet and alone
I think of these life changes
How I was ripe for them
How there is such a thing as fruition
and fortuitous timing
How my father in his passing
seems to have transferred to me
so many opportunities and powers
things he could not have given me
so effectively while he was alive
I think of my life in my City So Small
All the pieces of my heart
left lingering in corners of the park
from the top of Twin Peaks
to the expanse of Ocean Beach
The ghost of me walking through
neighborhoods I love, which I visit in my sleep
Lately my dreams have been fearful
Within the dreamscape I am confronted with ghosts
and I feel fear
But always I respond with flight
Rise up Rise up
There is power in each moment
where I can elevate beyond sentimentality
and fear and doubt
and I find I have no regrets
when I wake in the morning
to this new reality
I broke down the other day
and Toni said "I didn't know you felt this way,
you seem to be so together and mature about
everything."
I have few numbers to call out here
when I need a friendly voice
when I need a shoulder
or any other body part for that matter.
My Tagalog is improving. I am becoming more fluent
in my "native" language.
Toni's performance at her recent two concerts with Kuh
Ledesma was good. The audience received her well,
and it was wonderful to see Toni all glammed up
singing a song she wrote, playing the guitar
and backed by a professional band.
I am excited to go back to my City So Small
I will go to therapy and yoga and the park and the
ocean, indulge myself in the simplest of luxuries.
I will grieve my father, who I saw last in life
on my birthday in my City So Small.
Meanwhile, each day here begins and ends with music.
Love from across the ocean,
Carmen/Nini
[cdj update] Cryptonomicon and other praises of the home country
Sun, 11 May 2003
Just finished reading Cryptonomicon - the settings of
Manila/Philippines both in WW2 and the present tense
were apt even as I melted in the humid summer heat of
Corregidor, or as it was known in WW2 days, "the
Rock."
I've been acclimating without much effort. The heat
and the traffic are truly not unlike Los Angeles, and
one must be aggressive in driving as well as assertive
when met with the stares of people on the street.
Part of my new routine includes trips to the mountainy
resort area of Cavite. In the small area of Tagaytay
there are many restaurants, convents and golf courses.
And of course there is the Taal Volcano nearby, and en
route there is a mountain range with a huge mountain
called Makiling, or Maria Makiling as they call it,
because the silhouette of the range looks like a
woman's profile. They tell me the mountain is
enchanted. I asked what the enchantment was, but
nobody knows the story.
There's a lot of Isabel Allende/GG Marquez-esque
magical realism type superstitiousness within this
Filipino culture. Note to self, themes on this. The
pasttimes here include storytelling, smoking, drinking
San Miguel beer which is cheaper than water, going to
one of the hundreds of malls, or going out to eat.
Some places here look like third world areas, other
places look like Woodland Hills or Newport Beach.
There's been so much development and
commercialization.
And yet there are wild roosters crowing all the time.
And outside there are two cats fighting.
My diet here consists mostly of fish and mangoes. This
by choice - the food here is fattening and rich - tons
of pastries and fried foods and fattening rich dishes.
Although no one has officially asked me to lose
weight, I'm taking the initiative for performance
purposes. I'm joining a gym and am trying to find a
good place to take some dance classes.
In Tagaytay this weekend the fog rolled in. And then I
heard I left my Heart in San Francisco. Waves of
homesickness cramped my tummy. Where I left my heart,
my friends, my shoes and all my stuff. Where the air
is cool.
Here I take a tricycle (a motorbike with a welded
sidecar) for 5 pesos to the Internet cafe, which has a
t3 connection I can use for 35 pesos an hour. Current
exchange rate is 50 pesos to a dollar. I watched X men
2 for 3 dollars in a huge american style THX movie
theatre.
I cried of course when my Mama left to go back to
Cali. She took the American half of dad's ashes with
her. I had some abandonment issues but I stopped
whining when she reminded me that I have 2 other
sisters back home who need her.
"be a big girl," she said.
"but i feel so small with no pa, and now no mama," I
sobbed on the phone, "I don't feel big at all."
I'm making my flight arrangements to return to San
Francisco on June 1st or 2nd, and I'll be in the Bay
Area for about 2-3 weeks in June, and I will be
returning to Manila in July. So if anyone has extra
room for my transient shell, please let me know.
I have to say that being here allows me easier and
more high profile access and support to realize any of
my scatterbrained creative visions. I'd really have
to scrimp and bust my ass to try to "make it in the
States." For some Filipino-Americans, coming back to
the homeland to achieve fame is cheating, a compromise
of true artistic independence. But the climb to fame
is a challenging scale, and I'm no spring chicken no
more, so I need every edge and foothold I can get.
My father's brothers are very protective and helpful
to us. It's a comfort to have them looking after us,
b/c so many of their mannerisms and attitudes are so
like Papa. I still cry some every day, as with any
heartbreak. But his death has turned my destiny. And
so I cry in gratitude but also regret that he is not
physically here to clasp me in his arms and tell me he
is proud of me.
All family and filipino friends call me Nini, and here
in this new chapter I get to live out that persona.
Nini is a much nicer person, who sings and works and
helps others because it makes other people happy.
Nini is a good girl, respectful to elders and stuff.
Ha. I've never been attracted to Filipino guys, and
it's interesting being in an environment where I feel
I have no options for meeting suitable "suitors."
Oh well, none for me I guess.
Please email me if you would like to schedule a vox
chat. Please note that I am +15 hours ahead I think.
Tired now, but still loving to you,
CDJ
Just finished reading Cryptonomicon - the settings of
Manila/Philippines both in WW2 and the present tense
were apt even as I melted in the humid summer heat of
Corregidor, or as it was known in WW2 days, "the
Rock."
I've been acclimating without much effort. The heat
and the traffic are truly not unlike Los Angeles, and
one must be aggressive in driving as well as assertive
when met with the stares of people on the street.
Part of my new routine includes trips to the mountainy
resort area of Cavite. In the small area of Tagaytay
there are many restaurants, convents and golf courses.
And of course there is the Taal Volcano nearby, and en
route there is a mountain range with a huge mountain
called Makiling, or Maria Makiling as they call it,
because the silhouette of the range looks like a
woman's profile. They tell me the mountain is
enchanted. I asked what the enchantment was, but
nobody knows the story.
There's a lot of Isabel Allende/GG Marquez-esque
magical realism type superstitiousness within this
Filipino culture. Note to self, themes on this. The
pasttimes here include storytelling, smoking, drinking
San Miguel beer which is cheaper than water, going to
one of the hundreds of malls, or going out to eat.
Some places here look like third world areas, other
places look like Woodland Hills or Newport Beach.
There's been so much development and
commercialization.
And yet there are wild roosters crowing all the time.
And outside there are two cats fighting.
My diet here consists mostly of fish and mangoes. This
by choice - the food here is fattening and rich - tons
of pastries and fried foods and fattening rich dishes.
Although no one has officially asked me to lose
weight, I'm taking the initiative for performance
purposes. I'm joining a gym and am trying to find a
good place to take some dance classes.
In Tagaytay this weekend the fog rolled in. And then I
heard I left my Heart in San Francisco. Waves of
homesickness cramped my tummy. Where I left my heart,
my friends, my shoes and all my stuff. Where the air
is cool.
Here I take a tricycle (a motorbike with a welded
sidecar) for 5 pesos to the Internet cafe, which has a
t3 connection I can use for 35 pesos an hour. Current
exchange rate is 50 pesos to a dollar. I watched X men
2 for 3 dollars in a huge american style THX movie
theatre.
I cried of course when my Mama left to go back to
Cali. She took the American half of dad's ashes with
her. I had some abandonment issues but I stopped
whining when she reminded me that I have 2 other
sisters back home who need her.
"be a big girl," she said.
"but i feel so small with no pa, and now no mama," I
sobbed on the phone, "I don't feel big at all."
I'm making my flight arrangements to return to San
Francisco on June 1st or 2nd, and I'll be in the Bay
Area for about 2-3 weeks in June, and I will be
returning to Manila in July. So if anyone has extra
room for my transient shell, please let me know.
I have to say that being here allows me easier and
more high profile access and support to realize any of
my scatterbrained creative visions. I'd really have
to scrimp and bust my ass to try to "make it in the
States." For some Filipino-Americans, coming back to
the homeland to achieve fame is cheating, a compromise
of true artistic independence. But the climb to fame
is a challenging scale, and I'm no spring chicken no
more, so I need every edge and foothold I can get.
My father's brothers are very protective and helpful
to us. It's a comfort to have them looking after us,
b/c so many of their mannerisms and attitudes are so
like Papa. I still cry some every day, as with any
heartbreak. But his death has turned my destiny. And
so I cry in gratitude but also regret that he is not
physically here to clasp me in his arms and tell me he
is proud of me.
All family and filipino friends call me Nini, and here
in this new chapter I get to live out that persona.
Nini is a much nicer person, who sings and works and
helps others because it makes other people happy.
Nini is a good girl, respectful to elders and stuff.
Ha. I've never been attracted to Filipino guys, and
it's interesting being in an environment where I feel
I have no options for meeting suitable "suitors."
Oh well, none for me I guess.
Please email me if you would like to schedule a vox
chat. Please note that I am +15 hours ahead I think.
Tired now, but still loving to you,
CDJ
[cdj update] Gonna be in Manila for a while longer
Tue, 6 May 2003
Live from the island of Luzon:
I was scheduled to go home to LA on May 8th.
Now I will be coming home for the month of June,
then returning to the Philippines at the end of June
or July for an indefinite stay.
Here is the story:
Last Friday, the family and I went to the house of Kuh
Ledesma, who is basically the asian Sade, and a close
childhood friend of my fathers.
She's recently become a born again Christian. Of
course, we (toni and I) had to "sing for our Tita Kuh"
and Toni sang and accompanied herself on guitar -
singing one of her own compositions - a gospel song
called "Amazing". As a result, she will be singing in
Kuh's concert on May 16th.
On Saturday, the family and I were invited to stay at
our aunt/uncle's house in Tagaytay, which is a
vacation type area near Lake Taal, (which is in the
middle of an active volcano). On the way there my
mother texted my dad's friend, Ernest Escaler, who
owns a posh restaurant called Gourmet's out in
Tagaytay. He invited us to be his guests for lunch
there, along with our cousins and aunt who were
hosting us.
While at lunch he invited toni and I to sing. So
basically we sang in the middle of the room with their
baby grand piano, and did an hour long set for their
lunch crowd.
Next, he invites us back for the dinner set, saying
that his friend Vic del Rosario, a major bigwig with
Viva Records (one of the biggest labels here in the
Philippines), would be at dinner.
We said ok.
So um, we sang for Vic and assorted record cronies.
Lots of stuff, some broadway, ballads, uptempo
contemporary, jazz. The kind of schmaltzy stuff they
love here.
By the end of the evening I was seated at the table
with Ernest and Vic et al.
Tito Ernest has just launched a Talent Management
Agency and wants me to sign on with his group to be
represented by him. Vic said if I sign with them,
he'll record me (meaning - I'll be cutting a record
this year) immediately.
So I now have concerts on May 31st, tentatively June
21st, as well as July 11. Recording and other stuff in
between.
So yeah. This is Papa's doing, apparently this has
been his plan all along, talking to his friends about
us, so all we had to do was show up and sing and now
what?
Through it all, I just want to come home. I want to be
in SF with all my friends and just live my little life
of sporadic subbing gigs with borrowed bands, going to
yoga and having fun. I don't care too much for this
whole singing gig, but I'd be a fool (as so many
people have already screamed at me) to pass up such an
opportunity. As they say in tagalog, SAYANG!
Which means, what a waste!
I don't want to be ungrateful or a whiny baby, but I
want to come home, for reals. I miss my peeps.
But the field was wide open and opportunity, guided by
God and the spirit and planning of my departed father,
serendipitously landed on my shoulder like these
pretty Filipino butterflies.
I'll be earning in pesos, of course, which is
currently at 50 pesos to 1 dollar, so don't imagine
that I'll be rolling in dough.
But at the end of it all, I'll have an album that I
can be proud of and bring back to the states. And
hopefully I can help improve the standard of music
here with my "artistry".
So Mama and Tintin are going home tomorrow, and we
will postpone the stateside memorial of my father
until June when Toni and I return. Cherry Pie, Toni
and I will stay here for awhile.
We're looking to get a place with wireless cable modem
and a car with a driver.
I look at this whole thing as another chapter, just
like Saigon, just like college, where I'm somewhere
for awhile and I get to come home every 3 months.
Romeo, my best friend, will be coming here to join his
fiancee Caroline, who I've become good friends with
here. That all takes place in July.
I've also been pitching him and Caroline as well as
our friend's group, Kuya, to these agents.
So who knows, between the music and the screenplays
and the novels I'm writing and whatever else, I may be
on my way to contributing to the Balikbayan(which
means flips who come back to the Philippines)
Renaissance in a big way.
I will also be doing some consulting work in the
marketing department of Tito Ernest's Gourmet Foods
product line as well as his chain of restaurants.
Whee! My marketing and advertising skills are not all
lost, and because you can have as many helpers and
secretaries as you want here, I won't break my hands
at all!
It's bittersweet, all this, I feel I'm leaving so much
behind and yet I have to keep moving forward. But each
day opportunities arise which are not simply
coincidental, but which show that a master plan is
weaving quickly the tapestry of my life, and all roads
and skills and experiences(good and bad) lead up to
now.
Heart is on hold. Engage my Animus, strengthened by
the spirit of my father - who reaches from beyond the
grave to protect his daughters - most superstitious
filipinos here truly believe he will haunt them if
they try to harm or cheat us. And I do not present
myself as a typical filipina woman (esp. an unmarried
woman) - it's definitely a trip for these flip dudes
to deal with a well spoken, smart, aggressive, and
assertive young woman. I swear I've learned to crack a
whip just with my eyes.
It's so totally Joy Luck Club I almost can't stand it!
Loss yields opportunity
Grief gives way to Joy
Pain refines my inner steel
Distance shall only increase
the temerity and depth of true friendships
and the music somehow is the reason and the way
all the love I have
can be tapped and expressed
and it's somehow now been deemed
a Gift I can give that is worth something.
Please write, I care about how you feel about all
this.
Love,
Carmen
Live from the island of Luzon:
I was scheduled to go home to LA on May 8th.
Now I will be coming home for the month of June,
then returning to the Philippines at the end of June
or July for an indefinite stay.
Here is the story:
Last Friday, the family and I went to the house of Kuh
Ledesma, who is basically the asian Sade, and a close
childhood friend of my fathers.
She's recently become a born again Christian. Of
course, we (toni and I) had to "sing for our Tita Kuh"
and Toni sang and accompanied herself on guitar -
singing one of her own compositions - a gospel song
called "Amazing". As a result, she will be singing in
Kuh's concert on May 16th.
On Saturday, the family and I were invited to stay at
our aunt/uncle's house in Tagaytay, which is a
vacation type area near Lake Taal, (which is in the
middle of an active volcano). On the way there my
mother texted my dad's friend, Ernest Escaler, who
owns a posh restaurant called Gourmet's out in
Tagaytay. He invited us to be his guests for lunch
there, along with our cousins and aunt who were
hosting us.
While at lunch he invited toni and I to sing. So
basically we sang in the middle of the room with their
baby grand piano, and did an hour long set for their
lunch crowd.
Next, he invites us back for the dinner set, saying
that his friend Vic del Rosario, a major bigwig with
Viva Records (one of the biggest labels here in the
Philippines), would be at dinner.
We said ok.
So um, we sang for Vic and assorted record cronies.
Lots of stuff, some broadway, ballads, uptempo
contemporary, jazz. The kind of schmaltzy stuff they
love here.
By the end of the evening I was seated at the table
with Ernest and Vic et al.
Tito Ernest has just launched a Talent Management
Agency and wants me to sign on with his group to be
represented by him. Vic said if I sign with them,
he'll record me (meaning - I'll be cutting a record
this year) immediately.
So I now have concerts on May 31st, tentatively June
21st, as well as July 11. Recording and other stuff in
between.
So yeah. This is Papa's doing, apparently this has
been his plan all along, talking to his friends about
us, so all we had to do was show up and sing and now
what?
Through it all, I just want to come home. I want to be
in SF with all my friends and just live my little life
of sporadic subbing gigs with borrowed bands, going to
yoga and having fun. I don't care too much for this
whole singing gig, but I'd be a fool (as so many
people have already screamed at me) to pass up such an
opportunity. As they say in tagalog, SAYANG!
Which means, what a waste!
I don't want to be ungrateful or a whiny baby, but I
want to come home, for reals. I miss my peeps.
But the field was wide open and opportunity, guided by
God and the spirit and planning of my departed father,
serendipitously landed on my shoulder like these
pretty Filipino butterflies.
I'll be earning in pesos, of course, which is
currently at 50 pesos to 1 dollar, so don't imagine
that I'll be rolling in dough.
But at the end of it all, I'll have an album that I
can be proud of and bring back to the states. And
hopefully I can help improve the standard of music
here with my "artistry".
So Mama and Tintin are going home tomorrow, and we
will postpone the stateside memorial of my father
until June when Toni and I return. Cherry Pie, Toni
and I will stay here for awhile.
We're looking to get a place with wireless cable modem
and a car with a driver.
I look at this whole thing as another chapter, just
like Saigon, just like college, where I'm somewhere
for awhile and I get to come home every 3 months.
Romeo, my best friend, will be coming here to join his
fiancee Caroline, who I've become good friends with
here. That all takes place in July.
I've also been pitching him and Caroline as well as
our friend's group, Kuya, to these agents.
So who knows, between the music and the screenplays
and the novels I'm writing and whatever else, I may be
on my way to contributing to the Balikbayan(which
means flips who come back to the Philippines)
Renaissance in a big way.
I will also be doing some consulting work in the
marketing department of Tito Ernest's Gourmet Foods
product line as well as his chain of restaurants.
Whee! My marketing and advertising skills are not all
lost, and because you can have as many helpers and
secretaries as you want here, I won't break my hands
at all!
It's bittersweet, all this, I feel I'm leaving so much
behind and yet I have to keep moving forward. But each
day opportunities arise which are not simply
coincidental, but which show that a master plan is
weaving quickly the tapestry of my life, and all roads
and skills and experiences(good and bad) lead up to
now.
Heart is on hold. Engage my Animus, strengthened by
the spirit of my father - who reaches from beyond the
grave to protect his daughters - most superstitious
filipinos here truly believe he will haunt them if
they try to harm or cheat us. And I do not present
myself as a typical filipina woman (esp. an unmarried
woman) - it's definitely a trip for these flip dudes
to deal with a well spoken, smart, aggressive, and
assertive young woman. I swear I've learned to crack a
whip just with my eyes.
It's so totally Joy Luck Club I almost can't stand it!
Loss yields opportunity
Grief gives way to Joy
Pain refines my inner steel
Distance shall only increase
the temerity and depth of true friendships
and the music somehow is the reason and the way
all the love I have
can be tapped and expressed
and it's somehow now been deemed
a Gift I can give that is worth something.
Please write, I care about how you feel about all
this.
Love,
Carmen
[cdj update]touching a monkey and floating in water
Fri, 2 May 2003
i don't know how many days i've been here in the
philippines now.
seems like a long time
seems like i'm older
and the world turns
Like any heartache heartbreak
through the haze of tears
it's amazing to watch the world go on
almost an affront
still blessed with family and friends
minus papa
cancel papa
cancel my Animus, my male authority figure, my old foe
and longest male love, the source of my strengths and
weaknesses, the hand that struck me and held me and
provided for me
what's left but his ashes and the memes and the genes?
the mannerisms and the temper
the tenderness and the music
the stoicism and the laughter
the vulnerability and the strength
that was my papa
and these things live on in me
what if my mother went first, I think
how would he handle the grief?
How would he be an example to my sisters and I
of how to be gracious even in grief?
Props to my mom
who hates being called a widow
who cries everyday
who looks so small standing alone
who still manages to have the strength
to tell the same stories every day
to each newly informed condolence-wisher
and comfort them as well
The other day I went to Tagaytay
to a house which had a small castle
which is a kennel for 50 dogs
and my Lolo (grandpa) Kato-san (who is not my real
grandpa but who is my Alzheimer's ridden grandpa's
best friend) also has a monkey named Empro
He pronounced it that way altho I think it's probably
Emperor
The monkey is small and sweet
lives in a huge space with lots of swinging room
and we fed him baby bananas
and he touched our hands and tried to grab our fingers
Kato-san has a large indoor swimming pool
and just as I did in the Sulu Sea at Boracay island
I floated, just floated
breath held and palms up
sensory deprivation
trying to find my center and awareness
because i've been feeling strapped down
and the grief is beating me
and i'm too weak to struggle
and just strong enough to tense before the
strap falls again
and another memory another void another indicator
of loss flays my already lonely and broken heart
i'm burned to the core
heart is ground zero
how to begin again
when i feel like all is loss
no man, no job, no home, no papa
i try to access peace within, strength within
try to view my life from the center and the world
as just a field of infinite options before me
and only love, music, art and family motivates me
too much poverty i've seen here to want for always
more stuff
too much love and friendship in my life to feel poor
yes i am rich in life
even through this loss
sometimes though these keys don't turn the locks
the words fall like stones
just sleep is my balm
knitting up my unraveled sleeve of care
i sing every day here
funny to me how just a song makes so many people
happy
funny how sometimes the notes and the words to wrap my
voice around is the only way to pull myself up out of
the muck
I just need a little tiny time
sometime somewhere in someone's arms
where I don't have to be strong or big or mature
Just need to break all the way down.
Cry and rage until there's no more sorrow left
what time is it, what day is it,
what do i need to know about the world i left behind?
in a bubble and jealous of normal life
carmen
i don't know how many days i've been here in the
philippines now.
seems like a long time
seems like i'm older
and the world turns
Like any heartache heartbreak
through the haze of tears
it's amazing to watch the world go on
almost an affront
still blessed with family and friends
minus papa
cancel papa
cancel my Animus, my male authority figure, my old foe
and longest male love, the source of my strengths and
weaknesses, the hand that struck me and held me and
provided for me
what's left but his ashes and the memes and the genes?
the mannerisms and the temper
the tenderness and the music
the stoicism and the laughter
the vulnerability and the strength
that was my papa
and these things live on in me
what if my mother went first, I think
how would he handle the grief?
How would he be an example to my sisters and I
of how to be gracious even in grief?
Props to my mom
who hates being called a widow
who cries everyday
who looks so small standing alone
who still manages to have the strength
to tell the same stories every day
to each newly informed condolence-wisher
and comfort them as well
The other day I went to Tagaytay
to a house which had a small castle
which is a kennel for 50 dogs
and my Lolo (grandpa) Kato-san (who is not my real
grandpa but who is my Alzheimer's ridden grandpa's
best friend) also has a monkey named Empro
He pronounced it that way altho I think it's probably
Emperor
The monkey is small and sweet
lives in a huge space with lots of swinging room
and we fed him baby bananas
and he touched our hands and tried to grab our fingers
Kato-san has a large indoor swimming pool
and just as I did in the Sulu Sea at Boracay island
I floated, just floated
breath held and palms up
sensory deprivation
trying to find my center and awareness
because i've been feeling strapped down
and the grief is beating me
and i'm too weak to struggle
and just strong enough to tense before the
strap falls again
and another memory another void another indicator
of loss flays my already lonely and broken heart
i'm burned to the core
heart is ground zero
how to begin again
when i feel like all is loss
no man, no job, no home, no papa
i try to access peace within, strength within
try to view my life from the center and the world
as just a field of infinite options before me
and only love, music, art and family motivates me
too much poverty i've seen here to want for always
more stuff
too much love and friendship in my life to feel poor
yes i am rich in life
even through this loss
sometimes though these keys don't turn the locks
the words fall like stones
just sleep is my balm
knitting up my unraveled sleeve of care
i sing every day here
funny to me how just a song makes so many people
happy
funny how sometimes the notes and the words to wrap my
voice around is the only way to pull myself up out of
the muck
I just need a little tiny time
sometime somewhere in someone's arms
where I don't have to be strong or big or mature
Just need to break all the way down.
Cry and rage until there's no more sorrow left
what time is it, what day is it,
what do i need to know about the world i left behind?
in a bubble and jealous of normal life
carmen
[cdj update] Land of a Thousand Malls
Mon, 28 Apr 2003
Right now I am sitting in a cybercafe in Makati, the
financial district and posh area of Manila. There are
at least 10 malls all huge, within a 5 mile radius.
I just returned yesterday from a weekend trip with my
sister Toni, cousin Cherry, and friends Caroline and
Christine Mangosing (Caroline is my best friend
Romeo's fiancee) to Boracay island. It's about a 45
min plane ride, 1.5 hour bus ride and then 20 min
ferry ride from Manila to this island, where the water
is clear and full of tropical fish, and the sand is
white and the people are brown. I ate nothing but fish
and fruit the entire time I was there. I floated in
the ocean and let the sun penetrate me and bring my
natural stores of melanin to the surface. As I
floated there with arms outstretched I felt this place
was a wonderful sensory deprivation chamber.
Papa always wanted to bring us here.
With the funeral week/wake over and Papa safely
stashed in the dining room, the grieving process
continues. The oppressive heat, the pollution, the
traffic which is beyond ungodly, the family squabbles
and i've run out of my anti-depressants. I want to
come home. I feel trapped here. My own grief feels
secondary, tertiary, to the energy I feel needs to go
to being strong and "normal" for my sisters and my
mom. Even amidst the enormous family network i feel
dizzy with loneliness.
Fuck I'm crying all the time and my mom won't even let
me cuss in tagalog and i feel alternately 100 yrs old
and 5 years old.
How the hell am I supposed to feel?
Sad, angry, happy, whatever?
suddenly i feel powerless and overwhelmed. and i
fucking need a hug and some space away from all this
grief.
sometimes I feel I can handle it all with grace and
strength. today i'm just falling apart, crying,
grieving, lost and broken hearted in a hundred ways.
feel like i'm reaching out but there's nothing there
to reach me back.
homesick for a home i don't have.
love, carmen (infinitely tiny today)
Right now I am sitting in a cybercafe in Makati, the
financial district and posh area of Manila. There are
at least 10 malls all huge, within a 5 mile radius.
I just returned yesterday from a weekend trip with my
sister Toni, cousin Cherry, and friends Caroline and
Christine Mangosing (Caroline is my best friend
Romeo's fiancee) to Boracay island. It's about a 45
min plane ride, 1.5 hour bus ride and then 20 min
ferry ride from Manila to this island, where the water
is clear and full of tropical fish, and the sand is
white and the people are brown. I ate nothing but fish
and fruit the entire time I was there. I floated in
the ocean and let the sun penetrate me and bring my
natural stores of melanin to the surface. As I
floated there with arms outstretched I felt this place
was a wonderful sensory deprivation chamber.
Papa always wanted to bring us here.
With the funeral week/wake over and Papa safely
stashed in the dining room, the grieving process
continues. The oppressive heat, the pollution, the
traffic which is beyond ungodly, the family squabbles
and i've run out of my anti-depressants. I want to
come home. I feel trapped here. My own grief feels
secondary, tertiary, to the energy I feel needs to go
to being strong and "normal" for my sisters and my
mom. Even amidst the enormous family network i feel
dizzy with loneliness.
Fuck I'm crying all the time and my mom won't even let
me cuss in tagalog and i feel alternately 100 yrs old
and 5 years old.
How the hell am I supposed to feel?
Sad, angry, happy, whatever?
suddenly i feel powerless and overwhelmed. and i
fucking need a hug and some space away from all this
grief.
sometimes I feel I can handle it all with grace and
strength. today i'm just falling apart, crying,
grieving, lost and broken hearted in a hundred ways.
feel like i'm reaching out but there's nothing there
to reach me back.
homesick for a home i don't have.
love, carmen (infinitely tiny today)
[cdj update] "Papa's in a Pretty Cup" says my sister Tintin
Tue, 22 Apr 2003
It's been a long week.
Here in the Philippines
the wake lasts forever
and there are services each night
people come each night to talk and sing and pray
Sunday my father's uncle who is a Jesuit priest
gave an Easter Sunday/mass - it was the last day of
the wake.
Monday morning we had the last funeral service.
I gave a eulogy for my father
and Toni, Zandi and I all sang.
We followed the hearse then
to the crematorium
where we looked at his body for the last time
I let the tears flow
and it was cathartic
They closed the lid and we all broke down
we opened the glass top casket briefly
and amid the formalin fumes
we touched Papa's lifeless corpse
and they closed it up
and pushed it through
we watched through tears of grief
and shock
as they took his body from the casket
and placed it into a container
which they pushed into the fire
and Papa was gone
we sang spontaneously
songs to comfort ourselves and each other
gospel songs, Tagalog songs
songs Papa loved
our voices raised
as if to channel the pain of breathing
the heartbreak
into sustained notes
tonight i have just returned from an auntie's house
they live in this enormous house
which is in the middle of an old town
jeepneys and tricycles and one lane roads
kids selling chiclets and sampaguita flower leis
on the streets
here people wash your clothes
pump your gas and everywhere I'm called "Ma'am"
Too many cigs
all my uncles here smoke
ma and tin are mad but whatever
they don't bother trying to scold me
and i've bonded with my uncles, immediate and extended
they are a comfort because their personalities and
mannerisms remind me of pa
indeed my sisters and i have been making ourselves
the "stateside spectacle"
in the malls for some reason
the retail peeps come to the front of the store
to watch us pass by
"mukang artista!" they say
it means "they look like stars!"
ma is ok
seeing old friends
and being cradled by the massive network of family
they send us food and cars with drivers
invitations to stay at their houses
to karaoke, to dinner, to whatever
people are so hospitable here
and I really feel consoled by the love of this family
that I never knew so well
but who accept us as their own
although we have always been oceans apart
i could stay here and be well taken care of
i could stay here and use connections to be famous
somehow
i could stay here and become a true filipina
should I?
i've left sf and life goes on without the familiar
things
without the skeptical voice of my father/animus
i feel more free to be spontaneous and adventurous
we'll see what happens
everyday crying a little
saying good morning and hi always
to the ashy remains of my father
in a "pretty cup" as tin says
it's hard to miss pa a lot here
because i never knew him here
gonna relax a bit
and enjoy my "homeland"
the big shock and adjustment
will be back home
gonna sell the lancaster house
and the space shuttle too probably (our huge fam van)
settle my mom and tin and nikki somewhere
and be the man for awhile
just keep moving
love and love and love and more love,
Carmen
It's been a long week.
Here in the Philippines
the wake lasts forever
and there are services each night
people come each night to talk and sing and pray
Sunday my father's uncle who is a Jesuit priest
gave an Easter Sunday/mass - it was the last day of
the wake.
Monday morning we had the last funeral service.
I gave a eulogy for my father
and Toni, Zandi and I all sang.
We followed the hearse then
to the crematorium
where we looked at his body for the last time
I let the tears flow
and it was cathartic
They closed the lid and we all broke down
we opened the glass top casket briefly
and amid the formalin fumes
we touched Papa's lifeless corpse
and they closed it up
and pushed it through
we watched through tears of grief
and shock
as they took his body from the casket
and placed it into a container
which they pushed into the fire
and Papa was gone
we sang spontaneously
songs to comfort ourselves and each other
gospel songs, Tagalog songs
songs Papa loved
our voices raised
as if to channel the pain of breathing
the heartbreak
into sustained notes
tonight i have just returned from an auntie's house
they live in this enormous house
which is in the middle of an old town
jeepneys and tricycles and one lane roads
kids selling chiclets and sampaguita flower leis
on the streets
here people wash your clothes
pump your gas and everywhere I'm called "Ma'am"
Too many cigs
all my uncles here smoke
ma and tin are mad but whatever
they don't bother trying to scold me
and i've bonded with my uncles, immediate and extended
they are a comfort because their personalities and
mannerisms remind me of pa
indeed my sisters and i have been making ourselves
the "stateside spectacle"
in the malls for some reason
the retail peeps come to the front of the store
to watch us pass by
"mukang artista!" they say
it means "they look like stars!"
ma is ok
seeing old friends
and being cradled by the massive network of family
they send us food and cars with drivers
invitations to stay at their houses
to karaoke, to dinner, to whatever
people are so hospitable here
and I really feel consoled by the love of this family
that I never knew so well
but who accept us as their own
although we have always been oceans apart
i could stay here and be well taken care of
i could stay here and use connections to be famous
somehow
i could stay here and become a true filipina
should I?
i've left sf and life goes on without the familiar
things
without the skeptical voice of my father/animus
i feel more free to be spontaneous and adventurous
we'll see what happens
everyday crying a little
saying good morning and hi always
to the ashy remains of my father
in a "pretty cup" as tin says
it's hard to miss pa a lot here
because i never knew him here
gonna relax a bit
and enjoy my "homeland"
the big shock and adjustment
will be back home
gonna sell the lancaster house
and the space shuttle too probably (our huge fam van)
settle my mom and tin and nikki somewhere
and be the man for awhile
just keep moving
love and love and love and more love,
Carmen
[cdj update] live from manila
Sat, 19 Apr 2003
hello friends and family:
thank you for your continued support and condolences.
i'm in manila
with mama and my sisters
staying at my uncle's house
only 56k there
so i'll be checking email every other day
so here in manila the tradition
when someone dies
is this long wake
where papa sits in his casket
in a chapel where people visit all day long
and there is a service every night until the funeral
so comforting and yet depressing
to see my father's lifeless body in the casket
covered by glass
there always needs to be a de jesus to watch him
b/c the chapel is open 24/7
anyway
so i watched him the other day
cried and laughed and talked to him
he has a million friends and i'm meeting them all
in addition to family i've never met before
or who i haven't seen since i was last
here in 1986
it's hot and humid
like 5 showers a day, no joke
manila is nuts
everything is here
all the chains esp. fast food
lots of malls
and poor people and servants
and rich people with drivers
our fam here is pretty well off
so weird to have maids do almost everything
i feel guilty then i get over it
anyway
been crying on and off, my sisters and mom are the
same way
pa always wanted to us to come here together
now he gets his wish
just wish he were alive to see us
all here, causing spectacles wherever we go
we don't fit in at all
loud and brash and american
not shy
i love you all
and i miss you
and thank god for the blessings of
the many loving people in my life
wonder what my funeral will be like, ha.
i have to write a eulogy tonight
for the services tomorrow and monday
wow, i'm the eldest and i have to be BIG
even when sometimes here, crying
over the casket, i feel so small and lost
because my papa is gone and he'll never be back
to hug me or love me or be proud of me
or fight with me
anyways
that is all for now
sorry for mass email again
and if this is too much information
but fuckit
anyone want anything from manila?
slippers and face masks for all!!!
mahal(love) from manila,
carmen
hello friends and family:
thank you for your continued support and condolences.
i'm in manila
with mama and my sisters
staying at my uncle's house
only 56k there
so i'll be checking email every other day
so here in manila the tradition
when someone dies
is this long wake
where papa sits in his casket
in a chapel where people visit all day long
and there is a service every night until the funeral
so comforting and yet depressing
to see my father's lifeless body in the casket
covered by glass
there always needs to be a de jesus to watch him
b/c the chapel is open 24/7
anyway
so i watched him the other day
cried and laughed and talked to him
he has a million friends and i'm meeting them all
in addition to family i've never met before
or who i haven't seen since i was last
here in 1986
it's hot and humid
like 5 showers a day, no joke
manila is nuts
everything is here
all the chains esp. fast food
lots of malls
and poor people and servants
and rich people with drivers
our fam here is pretty well off
so weird to have maids do almost everything
i feel guilty then i get over it
anyway
been crying on and off, my sisters and mom are the
same way
pa always wanted to us to come here together
now he gets his wish
just wish he were alive to see us
all here, causing spectacles wherever we go
we don't fit in at all
loud and brash and american
not shy
i love you all
and i miss you
and thank god for the blessings of
the many loving people in my life
wonder what my funeral will be like, ha.
i have to write a eulogy tonight
for the services tomorrow and monday
wow, i'm the eldest and i have to be BIG
even when sometimes here, crying
over the casket, i feel so small and lost
because my papa is gone and he'll never be back
to hug me or love me or be proud of me
or fight with me
anyways
that is all for now
sorry for mass email again
and if this is too much information
but fuckit
anyone want anything from manila?
slippers and face masks for all!!!
mahal(love) from manila,
carmen
[update] Manila-bound
Wed, 16 Apr 2003
Thank you for your kind words and prayers.
Mama, my cousin Cherry and my sister Zandi
left last night, to join Tintin, who was there with
Papa alone and who is now just thinking he's 'out of
town'. Mama didn't want to tell her until she could be
with Tin in person.
In a few hours I'll be leaving for Manila, for the
first time in over 10 years. All the daughters are
finally going "home" as papa wanted, too bad he's only
there in spirit.
I'll be there until at least May 8th, returning to
settle things down with my mom in Lancaster, and
returning to the Bay Area sometime in the end of May
to move all my stuff.
I will be staying at the family home.
I will be with Cherry and Toni constantly and their
cell phones work in Manila. If you need to speak with
me, please call only in an emergency. It costs like
$2/min. But you can TEXT ALL YOU WANT.
I'll be haunting the cybercafes, so can always be
reached through email.
A memorial service will be held in Manila, but the
funeral will occur in mid-May. Details to follow.
Thank you for the love, I feel strong because of it.
It is humbling and profound to know that so many kind
thoughts and energy are directed our way in our time
of bereavement.
Keep connected.
Love,
Carmen/Nini
Thank you for your kind words and prayers.
Mama, my cousin Cherry and my sister Zandi
left last night, to join Tintin, who was there with
Papa alone and who is now just thinking he's 'out of
town'. Mama didn't want to tell her until she could be
with Tin in person.
In a few hours I'll be leaving for Manila, for the
first time in over 10 years. All the daughters are
finally going "home" as papa wanted, too bad he's only
there in spirit.
I'll be there until at least May 8th, returning to
settle things down with my mom in Lancaster, and
returning to the Bay Area sometime in the end of May
to move all my stuff.
I will be staying at the family home.
I will be with Cherry and Toni constantly and their
cell phones work in Manila. If you need to speak with
me, please call only in an emergency. It costs like
$2/min. But you can TEXT ALL YOU WANT.
I'll be haunting the cybercafes, so can always be
reached through email.
A memorial service will be held in Manila, but the
funeral will occur in mid-May. Details to follow.
Thank you for the love, I feel strong because of it.
It is humbling and profound to know that so many kind
thoughts and energy are directed our way in our time
of bereavement.
Keep connected.
Love,
Carmen/Nini
[urgent] say a prayer or something
Mon, 14 Apr 2003
hello friends and loved ones
my father died of a heart attack today,
he is in the philippines
i am going there this week with my mother and sisters
please excuse this mass email and if u receive this
twice.
if u could please say a prayer, light a candle or send
energy and thoughts to us as we make our journey and
grieve, i would appreciate your care.
thank you, i love you.
carmen
hello friends and loved ones
my father died of a heart attack today,
he is in the philippines
i am going there this week with my mother and sisters
please excuse this mass email and if u receive this
twice.
if u could please say a prayer, light a candle or send
energy and thoughts to us as we make our journey and
grieve, i would appreciate your care.
thank you, i love you.
carmen
[ bulletin ] No man, no home, no job, no home (No Regrets, No Goodbyes)
April 4, 2003
I'm only sending you this because it's too hard to tell.again.
On disability, no job.
All stuff in storage, no home, floating.
Moving on.
Thank you for caring.
Now here is the chat transcript, presented to you as a bit of digital literature, of the end of my six month affair with Steve, who met me online when he googled his own web page and saw I had linked to his page on one of my sites. He wrote to me, we wrote back. Met. Fell pretty fast and hard. He is 43, and lives and works in the San Fernando Valley in a house he shares with his estranged wife of 18 years (8 good years, 10 separated) and their 11 year old daughter. Despite the obvious complications, I fell for this one. It's done now though, and I rode the aimless train until I realized he'd disembarked before I did.
Message from my brokeded heart,
Carmen
I'm only sending you this because it's too hard to tell.again.
On disability, no job.
All stuff in storage, no home, floating.
Moving on.
Thank you for caring.
Now here is the chat transcript, presented to you as a bit of digital literature, of the end of my six month affair with Steve, who met me online when he googled his own web page and saw I had linked to his page on one of my sites. He wrote to me, we wrote back. Met. Fell pretty fast and hard. He is 43, and lives and works in the San Fernando Valley in a house he shares with his estranged wife of 18 years (8 good years, 10 separated) and their 11 year old daughter. Despite the obvious complications, I fell for this one. It's done now though, and I rode the aimless train until I realized he'd disembarked before I did.
Message from my brokeded heart,
Carmen
