John visited. I had him taste our lumpia shanghai, which we cook with chopped parsley and serve in long rolls.

Kali Wielding The Trigug And Treading On The Body Of Unenlightened Man

Please. I cannot stand that Betty-and-Veronica-Go-To-The-Junior-Prom neckline.

Good morning, Cubao!

The sky is a poster on the ceiling of a little boy's bedroom.

Finished reading The Legendary Bruce Lee.

Bought a near-extinct Richard Clayderman CD and a CD for meditation titled The Feng Shui Effect. Am playing the latter now. I was expecting soothing, Chinese, Nature instrumentals, but now I feel that I am on an African safari.

Back from the center with Chito, Chevy, and Vinci. Lunch out, then ice cream. Bought Chevy a Hello Kitty lunchbox to match her Hello Kitty school backpack. Alas, I forgot to bring my camera.

The dwarves are playing ninepins above the clouds of Cubao Catskills.

Quite worried. Chito, Chevy, and Vinci are en route here now, and I hope they arrive before the downpour.

The month of pearl and alexandrite very soon gives way to the month of ruby.

Kali On Tiger

Good morning, Cubao!

The sky is a bulging hammock.

Paolo and Ronald visited. We had cold drinks at the cafe and then stayed in the house for a while. I showed them my Bruce Lee altar.

Fire engines blaring on EDSA. I wonder where the fire is.

Back from the center. Bought two tabletop terraria (one for Aubrey that can accommodate four potted succulents, and another to house my ink bottles on top of my writing table).

Bought four more vegetable patch boxes for the roof deck, and so now we have eight.

There is another way to dilute and blend applied, felt-tip pen colors aside from rubbing light over dark, which is to use a brush dipped in water or rubbing alcohol and working over them. It is tedious, but, just in case you're taking your pen art seriously...

Saraswati

Good noon, Cubao!

The sun is a lighted sconce on the wall of the sky.

Back from the center. S. is still out paying our cable bill and buying cranberry tea and a light bulb for our ground-floor bathroom.

It was delightfully cool last night. I didn't have to turn on the AC. It is now noontime the following day but the crickets are still singing in the trees. The sun is out, a mellow sun with light so gentle it could have been designer-engineered. The sky is a flat sheet of clouds pressed under a rolling pin.

If it rains at all, it will rain this afternoon, maybe just as people will be coming home from work, as usually happens.

I am lord of the boundaries. We stand at the border between seasons. Enjoy this in-between moment with me. It is not yet time to retrieve thick blankets from the linen armoire.

Shiva Nataraj, Female Aspect

Good noon, Cubao! Slept ten hours last night. Dreamt I was organizing a history conference.

Were you also there?

When the rains finally come, our evenings will be lighted with shaded, incandescent lamps again. I love their glow inside the house, the warmth they emanate when seen from outside through windows and doors, and the cozy feelings that they induce. The nights will be chilly. There are times when we shall place lit candles in cast-iron, fire boxes on tables and on the floor.

I so look forward to that time of year, except for the concomitant flooded streets, the devils' traffic, and waiting for the grandchildren to safely come home from school.

Your Messenger message:

"Sir Tony, I dreamt about you yesterday night. I was visiting your hacienda like house. Then a guardian by the garden entrance who is a man but has a facr of an old bird told me u were inside (cos i thot no one was there since the lights were out and no one is peeking thru the window) it was thru himthat I learnt that you were the one who owns the house. He showed me the way to go up, but I said why can't I take the other way (magkatabi lng sila and this is made of wooden stairs compared to the other one which is just a cemented slope). He said the wooden steps are rickety already and some steps will just give out. Then I went thru the gf door instead since i was curious abt the rooms downstairs. I was looking thru this airy light blue shimmery room and it was known to me to be the room of your Mother. I was about to enter when you called me, and I had to go to you already instead of satiate my curiosity of that room, which seemed to hypnotize me. It had picture frames and intense wind blowing the curtains inwards. A bed with white linen and wooden twisty like design of a wooden post -bed facing the window. Mirror and vanity cbinet to the right upon entering door. Full of powder and stuff. That is what i can recall"

My reply:

Hello ______!

The goddess of the storm is my mother, and you are being given a precognitive vision of your consulting her as the rains arrive. There are two ways you can go about this: the old way (wooden steps) or the new way (cement slope).

You will recall that the entrances to my house are hung with bird cages, and that I use birds for divination. The birds are personified by the old man in your dream.

Strangely, the room that you saw and describe is the bedroom of my daughter-in-law Ivy.

Three-hour, deep-tissue massage, and I definitely can't get wet in this rain. Yes, I believe it's the front fringe of Typhoon Ambo.

Tony Perez's Art of War: If you have to come back at all, do so with a vengeance.

Rain. Typhoon Ambo grazes Cubao?

Glowering skies above Cubao--the shadow of Sky Father as he walks by.

The world would really progress if all social media were interlinked and you could easily share photos and postings from one medium to another.

Unfortunately social media are structured and regulated like religions, which is why the world does NOT progress.

A languid Sunday morning in Cubao, yet I was the first person up in the house. The neighbors seem to be going about in slow motion.

Didn't it ever occur to you that "connectedness" is more correct than "connectivity"?

Amitabha

Good morning, Cubao!

The sun is a centerpiece of chrysanthemums on the tablecloth of the sky.

The werewolf visited M.'s cafe before midnight.

I don't like practitioners who say that they trained under me if they really didn't.

Language really has nothing to do with how intelligent a person is.  If you visit a country whose people speak in a language you do not speak, everyone there would consider you an imbecile. You would be deprived of work, of friendship, and of love.

Unfortunately we base our assessment of a person's intelligence on his ability to communicate. Yet, I have known, loved, and cherished many VERY INTELLIGENT people within the 65 years of my life who have been handicapped by their inability to express themselves in words.

This is why I have never believed in IQ tests, which are not only culture-bound and religion-bound but language-bound as well.

The mind is a resplendent tree with branches free to grow in all directions.

I love being retired and able to put the day on hold like this, without feeling responsible for anyone, including myself. Time freezes like a ball photographed in mid-air. I can do anything I want and as long as I want to, as though only I exist in the world and everything in it has stopped aging. This is one of the true luxuries that working people do not have.

Nirvana

Afternoon. Love the dappled sunlight on the driveway through trees of black, Spanish lace.

Good day, Cubao! Slept ten hours last night.

The sun is a silk tassel in the corner of a sky-blue pillow.

9:00 PM- 1:00 AM visit by Allan, Hedwig, and three Spirit Questors. Downloads from the starship.

Watched Forged in Fire on History channel last night. The road not taken for me--like pottery. I just can't be bothered to maintain a studio with a forge or kiln, although I did collect knives and swords.

Nice show with hunky Hephaestuses, but not for those with a phobia for blades.

Bodhisattva

If unable to sleep in dead silence, turn the TV with subliminal sound on. Turn it on, however to WORLD news. It will make you sleep tight. Do NOT turn it on to LOCAL news. You will be unable to sleep.

Went to bed with Animation Domination again. Beginning to appreciate Archer because I like Sterling Archer, but I really cannot stand the other characters.

Good morning, Cubao!

The sun is a jackhammer shattering a pavement of clouds.

Thangka

Never stop being proactively creative. It is a form of giving to the world, and it is probably the best reason why your spirit guides shield you and keep you alive and well.

Fast becoming the most-used sentences (whether complete or truncated) in 2016:

--Now that's what I'm talking about.
--It's all good.

When a severely ill patient "recovers" in hospital, spend as much time with them and give them your love and assurance. Before such people die they briefly "recover", as though God were granting them a few important hours or minutes to share with their loved ones.

Unfortunately, many ignorant people think that they are "recovering" for good and go home to pick up from where they left off, leaving the patient alone with doctors and nurses.

The sun is a lozenge of lemon candy, a cloudy yellow when unwrapped but a translucent topaz now that it is half-melted in one's mouth.

Good afternoon, Cubao! Slept ten hours last night. Now I have only three or four hours of daylight to enjoy.

Had a long, precognitive dream, the type that scares people off my blogs whenever I post them, and so I will not. Here are just a few key words and phrases for my personal reference:

--rich woman passes, leaving husband and daughter
--chubby, household, female majordomo
--broken window
--set of reclining chairs
--handcarved wooden statuettes and box

Showed Mike L. my Bruce Lee altar after lunch today, and he seemed quite impressed. He asked, "What do you give him as offerings?"

Second Night of The Full Moon

Relaxing in my bedroom after a long day. Watched an American Ninja Warrior replay while working on a page in my Tibetan Designs adult coloring book. S. is up on the roof deck doing meditation exercises, something I also like doing but now have no time for, since I would rather write and paint.

She holds the Serpent Wand and speaks again because of even more forthcoming climate change and social change.

Vishnu

Spent the afternoon with Mike L. It's his day off. We had sisig for lunch at M.'s cafe, and then tea and coffee bread in our dining room. We are planning to hold regular sessions again.

And of course I watched Garage Sale Mystery: Guilty Until Proven Innocent last night. I am a fan of the series. This episode had fabulous necklaces and fashionable clothes once again, though the producer should have extended his/her efforts to the male cast members like Larry Levinson always does.

This is not one of the better plots of the series. It is hampered by being rendered without social pressure and emotion despite the fact that a murder has occurred. The killer flees the scene of the crime two years TOO LATE, and her "associate"even makes the serendipitous mistake of stealing a statuette out of sheer whim. The Danielle subplot also comes across as sheer padding and has nothing to do with the story.

I do love the usual, casting deconstruction, which probably occurs due to the unavailability of previous performers. It proves, however, that the series successfully survives based on its concept alone.

In all, nothing will ever beat The Wedding Dress in terms of complexity, script writing brilliance, and unusual, metaphysical manipulation of time and space for a commercial TV show.

Your Messenger message:

"I first dreamed about this person at a time when I wasn't even particularly aware yet of her presence. I just knew her. We had brief conversations, but nothing particularly worth remembering. The first time I dreamed of her, we were on a boat. I don't remember much of the details. But as the dreams occurred more and more often, what I remember distinctly is how the level of intimacy progresses. In the next dream, for instance, we held hands. And though I don't remember the details, I remember the general feeling I felt as I was dreaming. The dreams occurred again and again, each time progressing in terms of intimacy, but only in terms of feeling and the knowledge of what is going to happen next. The images didn't so much show the actual things. But each time, I woke up feeling like I experienced the intimacy.

"It's been years since we last spoke and saw each other, but in those years, the dreams still occurred. And last night again. I once again remember her familiarity."

My reply:

Hello ___!

Your dream has nothing to do with lesbianism or relationships you are uncertain of in your waking life.

Your dream is about yourself. The girl/woman is someone you may have subconsciously been admiring or wanting to be like, and the gradual merging between the two of you is really a good sign--it is is an image of your attaining, albeit slowly, what you want to become.

This is as far as my interpretation goes, because your dream narrative is not a dream narrative. It is a cautiously-written description that omits embarrassing details, in a defensive mode.

My psychic reading is that you are unable to express your true feelings to members of the opposite sex, especially those whom you believe you could have serious friendships with. This may be due to low self-esteem, fear, insecurities dealt by childhood experiences, or your idea that you can never be worthy of the man you truly want. Let your dreams blossom like flowers. Do not be afraid that the flowers will be damaged or plucked. You are not the flowers, you are the plant itself. When the flowers fade, a thousand other flowers will always bloom in their place.

Your Hangout message:


"Dear Sir, 

"Hi Sir! I would just like to ask you about moths as harbingers of death. 

"An aunt who is a Salesian nun was assigned in the early 2000’s in Vietnam. One day, while she was praying in her room, she saw a moth flying near her bed. She is not the superstitious kind but that made her pause for a while. The day after, she received a call from my father, telling her their brother died that day. 

"In 2007, I was a teaching in a Catholic school. It was my advisory class’ retreat in Tagaytay and with me was the discipline officer. I will call him Sir Rey. 

"That night, Sir Rey led the the closing talk. It was about how important it is to express our love to our loved ones because life is short. He went ahead sharing his problem at that time, his aunt who took care of him like a son has breast cancer and is very ill. As he was speaking, a moth entered through the window beside him and fluttered above his head. Sir Rey stared at the moth who flew above him for a few minutes. He became teary eyed. And as I was looking at him, I also saw fear in his eyes. The whole class became quiet. 

"Sir Rey abruptly ended the session and dismissed the class to their rooms . The next day, after morning prayer, he announced to everybody that he had to leave. He had to go back to Manila because his aunt died the night before. The whole time he was speaking to us, his siblings were texting and calling him non-stop on his cellphone which he left in his room. They were already informing him that their aunt died. 

"The reason I asked is that some nights ago, a big moth entered my bedroom window… It was fluttering the whole night. That was the first time it happened since my room is on the ninth floor of the building. I just opened my door and  waited for it to fly outside my room to the living room. 

"The next evening, as I was getting ready to sleep. A shadow was again fluttering above my head. I looked up and saw another moth. With a different design this time, flying above me. I did not give it much thought and again, I let it fly outside my room. 

"The next day, I checked my Facebook account and saw a post from one of my former students in my first job as a counsellor. The husband of the owner of that small school, died that day. It affected me so much since that was my first job. Another reason is that I got to know the owner of the school and her family well. When I was accepted for the job, we found out that their family were friends with my Mom’s family when they were living in Makati in the 50’s and 60’s.       
How is this possible Sir? Do spirits control these moths? Are they being subconsciously sent by the dying person?

"I also remember that throughout college, I would know if something good will happen to me that day or that week If I see white or yellow butterflies fluttering in front of me. Sometimes I encounter them in unpredictable places. For example, inside the classroom or while passing by a garbage bin.

"The day I was accepted in my first job I was mentioning earlier, a swarm of white butterflies were flying in front of me as I was walking towards the village gate, as if they were escorting me outside the village. 

"Sadly I don't experience this now. Also wondering why.

"I am sorry Sir for the long message. Thank you for your precious time. 

"Always, 

"________"


My reply:

Hello ______!

You are correct.

Spirits will communicate using visual imagery that you understand, and, therefore, will do so within the context of your culture. Butterflies and moths--but in particular atlas moths--indicate the presence of spirits. This is most prevalent in our country. After the big 1990 earthquake in Baguio I was invited to do a Spirit Quest at the ruins of the Hyatt Terraces. Upon my arrival in the city, while I stood outside a cafe waiting for my family to finish up with their meal, more than a dozen yellow butterflies arrived out of nowhere, covered the front of the jacket I was wearing, and stayed there for a quarter of an hour. I wish I had a camera at the time.

I must clarify something, though. The butterfly/moth is NOT the spirit, neither is the spirit INSIDE the butterfly/moth. The winged creatures are mere harbingers. Spirits are like artists who wield astral paintbrushes like wands, bidding the winged creatures to do as they ask.

That you no longer experience this simply means that the spirits of the recently deceased do not consider it necessary to relay messages to you.

Good morning, Cubao!

The sky is the inverted bowl of a shiny, soup ladle.

Their danger impends, and they will come to me for help.

Love that episode of _Tiny House_ featuring a pop-up shop!

The quandary between using "who" and "whom" is a carryover from our knowledge of parsing in Latin.

Mandala

When every day is your heyday, you not only have heydays to look back to, you also have heydays to look forward to.

Caught 15 minutes of Dinosaur Island on Fox Family Movies before going to sleep and found myself watching it to the very end. While the movie concept is as mediocre as those of all other dinosaur movies, this one has a script by an intelligent writer. The creatures and special effects are not only imaginative, they are convincing as well, especially since painstaking efforts were made to achieve perfectly-matched and apparently-casual, day lighting. I appreciated them more than I did the creatures and special effects in Avatar, which were screaming too loudly, "Yoo-hoo! Have you seen the likes of us before?".

Last night the werewolf visited M.'s cafe. Their tapsilog remains one of my personal favorites. The cook buys the meat fresh at Farmers Market and then marinates it himself. Of course he refuses to share his secret marinade with me.

Good morning, Cubao!

The sky is a platinum ingot in the hands of a whimsical smithy.

It is the people who love you who take note of your absence and go out of their way to check whether you are still alive.

If you must eat tuna, buy it fresh at the market. Canned tuna, like canned sardines, causes gout.

Benjie working in our house again. Today we are replacing the ground-floor bathroom ceiling.

Chen Chu (Thousand Hands Kwan Yin)

Good morning, Cubao!

The sky is a peacock's fan of feathers.

Manjushri

Still been watching Tiny House, but it is Buying the View that takes the cake.

After completing a project, such as a set of paintings or a novel, I lay back and let time slip by like oil left squeezed out of a tube or a spot of ink left to dry in an inkwell. I sit at a window and observe everyone else moving on with their own concerns. I care not which one of them will have read my novel or viewed my painting. I always feel that my reader and my viewer have not yet been born.

I wonder if that is what we all subconsciously wish to leave behind--cave wall markings to be discovered by someone in the distant future, someone who will hear our voices but never see our faces or know our names, yet will value our work as records of our lives and the times we lived in.

Good morning, Cubao!

The sky is a sewing table. The clouds are leftover teddy-bear stuffing.

Watched the landing of the three Soyuz astronauts on Kazakhstan.

Your Hangout message:

YOU: hi Sir Tony--what does being bitten by a black slender snake on the forefinger mean in dreams? 

MOI: I need the entire dream narrative to understand it.

YOU: I just remember being in a group, the people I do not remember, but my mother is there. We were all reclining like on a bed, having fun. Then a snake appears, wrapped around my hand, then it bites me. That's what I remember at least. I do remember the snake bite and where it bit me--hintuturo


My reply:

It is possible to interpret dream fragments, dream snatches, and dream images, but the results won't be as thorough as when a narrative is provided.

The Freudian interpretation: This was a dream moment in which you regressed to the Oedipal stage and reaffirmed your love for your mother, whose impact on your life has been so strong that you still may not have found any woman who can ever match up to her. The snake is sent by your superego to prevent the dream from interpolating itself into a scene of lust, and keep it on the level of your being a child playing innocently in bed with your mother. 

The Jungian interpretation: Snakes appear in healing dreams. Non-poisonous snakes were allowed to roam the Temple of Asklepios, where pilgrims slept on the floor in order to wake up healed or with a dream memory of a prescription for healing. You might be needing healing at this present time. If it is about a relationship, it is definitely your relationship with your mother.

My interpretation: Lust has recently re-entered your life, for you may have fueled it intentionally or unintentionally by looking at photos or watching videos. The forefinger is the finger that represents purpose and direction. It is wrapped around the hand that engineers self-sex, and bites you to jolt you into a more conscious awareness of where your activities are taking you. Rise from your ennui and lead a more creative life.

Your Hangout message:

"Good noon sir Tony! :) I do not know if you are in Singapore yet but I pray for your safe travel and happy trip. I have dreamed again last night, and I think it's of importance. I needed to buy a retail load when I happened to see this very long queue wherein sorts of people were lining up, young and old; but, there's this one child that struck me most whom I carefully said to that I am not cutting line but merely passing through. Then, I found a door. To my surprise, I was right. By cutting the line, a flock of sellers were selling at the back door. But none of which were willing to sell me the load. I wasn't ready to give up yet and kept asking every seller when someone approached me, and said that she could load me for a 100. I was really happy because I knew this seller. I have been re-loading for several times already with her. By staying loyal to her, I finally got the end of the deal. One of the sellers, who did not bother to listen to me, confessed that she still had something to sell but never offered help. She was really angry at me. I do not know why. She kept saying that she wanted to go to the U.S. The good seller, however, told her that I actually  got what I wanted because she helped me, and said these words "Sino ngayon ang napahiya?" The bad seller became even more furious saying that she's going to burn the good seller's face and pull out her mole when she does not stop mocking her. I moved on. There was a cut from this scene because the only thing I could remember is that, I was with two famous Korean celebrities. We looked like we are very close friends. They followed me in twitter. For that, I was ecstatic and would like to share it with everyone but they stopped me. That concluded my dream.

"Here's my dream interpretation: The good seller was me. The bad seller represents those people whom I needed to avoid. The two Korean celebrities represent fame and success. Thus, I interpreted it in such a way that I could relate the closest to my dream. It talks to me like this: Invest and believe in yourself, it's only you who could help you through shortcuts/difficulties. There might be no one else who would. Others may be envious and it can't be helped. They might see you as a threat and will not offer help for you possessed what they really want. However, do not take vengeance because by helping yourself reach your goals, that is more than enough revenge to make them furious. Fame and success are your friends and are with you, but always remember to be and stay humble. That is all I could muster, sir. Am I getting better? I hope you can correct me only if you have the time. Thank you! :)

"I avoided to reach to that interpretation because it sounded egoistic for me, and I have been really trying hard to stay grounded. It does not make any other sense to me, though, except with what I came up. There is a hidden opportunity through the backdoor. The mole was a good indication that the good seller was me. And, the cut scene was the journey that I have yet to find out before reaching success. Although, I am not able to grasp what success meant in this dream because it was too vague. So, I assumed that it meant success in every aspect of my life.

"*cutting the line=passing through"

My reply:

Hello _____________!

First, congratulations on you continued efforts to interpret your own dreams. One can only get better and better. In every book on dream work and dream analysis, it is emphasized that the dreamer is the best interpreter of his/her dreams, provided that he/she is completely open to the truths they reveal.

There is no such thing as being egotistic in interpreting one's dreams--such dreams, after all, ARE about one's ego and one's self.

I hope that you allow me, as your teacher, to add the following:

All of the characters in this dream are you: the child who lets you through, the "good" seller who attends to your needs, the "bad" seller who wants to be given attention instead of giving attention and whose dream is to live abroad, and the two Korean celebrities, who might be manifestations of your self-image and/or your fantasy self.

The essence of this dream is communication, or the need to purchase load in order to communicate. Allow your dream characters to communicate with/relate to one another freely. That way, everything will find integration: in finding solutions to problems, and in shaping the objectives you need to follow most to achieve success.

Kali

Tried M.'s tuna salad last night. We are trying his buttered chicken for lunch today.

Every talent is holistic. Every skill is specialized.

The best cafe to operate will always be one with no pretensions and no frills.

Do not be engulfed by people who think en masse--it is like being swallowed by The Blob. When you lose your individuality, it is extremely difficult to recover.

Dawn of Saturday, June 18, 2016

I did not announce night classes for 4:30 AM but six people came to me at dawn--all of them elderly except for one, a young man. We sat in a circle. They were ailing of one thing or another and were in wheelchairs. Two or three of them had medication tubes inserted in their hands. One elderly woman and the young man had psychic abilities, but came to me for readings because they could not understand their current, physiological situations. I was able to trace and tell them the origins of their ailments. It seems, however, that they were resistant to my findings. When I rose from bed it was with the distinct memory that I had caused them distress.

Good morning, Cubao!

The day is a sliver of sunshine on the window sill.

M. and I are converting 1/3 of the studio beside the driveway to a small dormitory for his waiters. When that is done, his cafe will go back to 24-hour service again.

Until then, they are on an 8:30 AM - 2:00 AM schedule.

My sister Alice gave me this Tibetan coloring book last March, but I managed to do a page only now. I chose a picture of Arjun, one of my favorite Hindu gods. As a matter of fact I have a white metal statue of him on my writing desk.

From the earliest days to the present, NOT ALL art is designed to hang at EYE LEVEL.

I finally took the ringer off our landline phone. No one has our number because we use it only to make outgoing calls anyway, and mostly for deliveries. For the past year PLDT Sales has been pestering us everyday with their desperate attempts to make me avail of useless services designed to increase our monthly bill by P200 or more. Despite my repeated efforts to tell them that I am not interested in their products, they continued to call. Their agents gave fake names. When I asked them for their manager's name, that name was fake as well, and they would not give me their address--yes, I intended to pay them a visit to personally hex them. They said that they could not take my number off the list because their calls are "system-generated". I wonder why these atchays don't have the intelligence and the know-how to fix their own "systems". This particular system is an akyat-bahay and budul-budol system, if you ask me--an invasion of privacy disguised as a business offer.

Now that the ringer is off, I relish the pleasure of envisioning these atchays waiting at the other end of the line, losing money by the minute and by the second, trapped in the system-generated hell they created for themselves.

Good morning, Cubao!

The sky is a trampoline, and the clouds are acrobats.

Now that I'm retired and can paint eight hours a day, I find that the average time it takes me to complete a painting is 15 days, give or take a few days.

Join me at TheatreWorks Singapore this July?

https://writingandcommunity2016.wordpress.com/category/writing-from-the-heart/

Slept eight hours last night.

Aubrey in school, Angelique on her first day at her OJT.

Good morning, Cubao!

The sky is a pitcher of water waiting to be tipped.

You know that your third eye is open if, when you close your eyes and put on glasses with the wrong lens refraction, your eyes begin to hurt EVEN IF YOUR EYES REMAIN CLOSED.

Tony Perez's Art of War: When a person marks your e-mail message as "Unread", you receive a notice of message failure, meaning that the message WAS indeed read and was "Marked As Unread". You then know what disturbs the recipient most, and you have an option of re-including your message in a message that he has no choice but to read.

Watched Dark Intentions on DIVA last night. A formula mystery story, but, hey, it was something to watch while drifting off to sleep. The plus factor is a happy ending without cheap twists.

Resting after completing my latest triptych. The act of painting is rewarding. Finishing a painting is rewarding. Resting afterward is rewarding. Yes, you can have your cake and eat it too.

What is this nonsense about not showing the photos and not mentioning the names of terrorists, especially if they are good-looking? That is the cheap strategy of:

--graduate students who think they can shut out people they do not like in class.
--DC employees who size up foreigners and decide in a split-second whether they can be of use to them or not.

Are they unconsciously disturbed that those are the faces of Bible characters?

Why not give faces and names to The Devil?

Good morning, Cubao!

The day drives by like a yellow sports car.

Aubrey's first day of school in K-12 begins tomorrow. I'm glad we had our major supermarket swoop today, that we had a snack out, and that I bought her the partner of her brass-and-glass lantern so that she now has a pair.

I bought myself something too, something interesting to watch during the one-month hiatus I am off painting:

Work proceeds on the house. I like the feeling. It's as though the house is being cleansed, being given a haircut, a body massage, a facial, a hot shower, a manicure, a pedicure.

Maybe it is time to wear my tektite pendant once again.

Not a day of rest for me.

Stowed away my oil paints and brushes, then attended to buying more supplies needed for Benjie's work on our back roof. Major groceries with Aubrey. When one is doing groceries with one's grandchildren, one must be prepared for a lot of extras being placed in the cart. Snack at Seattle's Best Coffee, where JR was working on his laptop. It was great seeing him and catching up with him again.

In the meantime Tina passed by our house to bequeath to me some of the pieces of tektite her father gathered in Camarines Sur in the 1950s. Extraterrestrials will reconnect with me yet again.

Messenger conversation:

YOU: Do you know how to invoke tiyanaks po ba? Please

Help nman po kuya tony

MOI: I have no idea what you mean. They are usually spirits of aborted babies. Why do you want to invoke them?

YOU: Meron po kasi dito sa amin sa likod bahay, gusto ko sila gawing companion for magick

May paraan po kaya to summon them?

MOI: I strongly advise against doing anything like that. They like being alone. They will be of no help to your magic.

However, if you want the responsibility of caring for one until it moves on to a higher plane, you need to buy a Thai gumanthong. (Just buy a statue. Skip the ancient ritual.)

Disappointed that I cannot use garden soil as a substitute for sand in cement sculpture.

More construction work today: Laundry room roof, ground floor bathroom ceiling.

Good morning, Cubao!

The day is a ship at sea. You spend it alone in your cabin, on the deck, or mingling with co-passengers.

The Dream Oil on cradled canvas 36" x 36 Work in progress Monday, June 13, 2016 9:47 PM

Of course K to 12 costs more. It's called an UPGRADE.

A few more highlights on the blanket, a final glaze on the sea, and I am done.

Vernissage in a few days, after which I construct the definitive syllabus for my workshop and then pack for Singapore.

BRUCE LEE, WAIT FOR ME!

The Dream Oil on cradled canvas 36" x 36 Work in progress Monday, June 13, 2016 5:55 PM

Sometimes it serves you well to be neither here nor there, because you then have a license to be everywhere.

Paint gently with your brush, for every wrong stroke you make acts against you, and every right stroke, for you.

The Dream Oil on cradled canvas 36" x 36 Work in progress Monday, June 13, 2016 4:48 PM

The Dream Oil on cradled canvas 36" x 36 Work in progress Monday, June 13, 2016 3:46 PM

The Dream Oil on cradled canvas 36" x 36 Work in progress Monday, June 13, 2016 1:57 PM

Good morning, Cubao!

The clouds are a gaggle of folded-paper cranes.

Glued to world news--the advantage of not having to rise early to go to work on a Monday.

Don't stop painting your subjects until you can hear them singing and you can smell their flesh.

My bitter medicine, from the Castle of Baking and Confectionery.

The Dream Oil on cradled canvas 36" x 36 Work in progress Sunday, June 12, 2016 4:30 PM

The Dream Oil on cradled canvas 36" x 36 Work in progress Sunday, June 12, 2016 3:31 PM

Calling it a day for painting to do what I enjoy most: lying about and watching TV.

The Dream Oil on cradled canvas 36" x 36 Work in progress Sunday, June 12, 2016 2:44 PM

Cubao rain. The kind that makes you want to sail paper boats in gutters.

Taking a break from painting. Only two major areas need work:

--The sea must be glazed over to achieve depth.
--Shadows and highlights must be added to the blanket.

I think, but I am not sure, that I will be able to finish this painting before the month ends.

Like science, magic must evolve. Otherwise it remains stagnant and soon becomes obsolete, for it benefits only from the progressive intelligence of the universe.

The Dream Oil on cradled canvas 36" x 36 Work in progress Sunday, June 12, 2016 12:56 NN

Dave has a graphic on his Wall that explains the parts of the flag. It was quite depressing to me, actually--it showed me what we are not rather than what we are.

It is wrong to look to the flag merely as an ideal. Like the "mission-vision" pretension of schools, it encourages people to remain what they are and be satisfied looking up to an "ideal" rather than living it and making it reality.

When pet animals appear in your dreams, they represent the spirits of deceased persons whom you know. Should they appear as their true selves, it would scare you. That is why your psyche disguises them as pet animals.

Why focus on the urban dangers of schoolchildren riding tricycles when they are relatively in heaven compared to children in the rural areas riding rafts, climbing ladders, hiking rocky paths, and having to change clothes and footwear just to go to and from school?

Watched Scorpion King 2: Rise of A Warrior on Universal last night. I am always fascinated by cinematic special effects, and I really had no other choice because Archer was replaying itself to death. Sadly, this came across to me as a B grade movie. Many scenes, especially those in the beginning, looked as though they were shot on hand-me-down sets from the Atlantis TV series. As to the eventual sets composed by computer, they were either video game backgrounds or downright pretentious.

The male lead has a constant, studied-in-the-mirror frown on his face. It occurred to me that he might have been auditioning for the next episode of Conan. That campy costume doesn't help him any. Why are costume designers so fixated on the Mad Max look for primitive sexy? This one is too much of a "creation", and looks like the summer outfit of Edward Scissorhands.

Good morning, Cubao!

The sun flutters like a flag of fire.

Wore my jade pendant the whole day today. Jade has a grounding effect on me.

Distant and incessant thunder, like percussion music from the security guard's radio.

Calling it a day for painting. Will finish doing the old man tomorrow and probably get started on the Male Shadow figure.

The Dream Oil on cradled canvas 36" x 36 Work in progress Saturday, June 11, 2016 6:17 PM

Saturday, Saturday 

Been painting day and night for eleven days now and I might take a one-day weekend doing something else.

The Dream Oil on cradled canvas 36" x 36 Work in progress Saturday, June 11, 2016 3:45 PM

The Dream Oil on cradled canvas 36" x 36 Work in progress Saturday, June 11, 2016 2:28 PM

The day is a patchwork quilt of light and shadow.

Good noon, Cubao!

Slept nine hours. Sat up for some of the Archer marathon on Animation Domination last night.

Calling it a day for painting. Working on the old man tomorrow.

The Dream Oil on cradled canvas 36" x 36 Work in progress Friday, June 10, 2016 8:38 PM

The Dream Oil on cradled canvas 36" x 36 Work in progress Friday, June 10, 2016 4:40 PM

The Dream Oil on cradled canvas 36" x 36 Work in progress Friday, June 10, 2016 4:20 PM

The Dream Oil on cradled canvas 36" x 36 Work in progress Friday, June 10, 2016 3:46 PM