Breakfast before workout

psx_20161101_094455As soon as I finished mopping the kitchen floor and the inside of the cabinet which had gotten flooded by water coming from the main pipe, I went downstairs to ask the personnel at the lobby to call a plumber to fix the leaking pipe. I thought of complimenting her for the bangs she’s sporting, but decided against it because I was not in the mood for small talks at that point. It was 7 in the morning. When the plumbers were done, advising me to buy a longer pipe, which I reckoned isn’t necessary, I had to face the ordeal of ridding the cupboard with plastic bags I have accumulated for months thinking I will have use for them to contain the poops of my cats among other things, without realizing I was becoming a hoarder.

I made myself a really heavy breakfast before I hit the gym today. It did not take much time to prepare. I sunny-side-upped two eggs, boiled two pork sausages, toasted a frozen bagel, spread on it my one-year-old guava jam which even the ants dared not touch, and completed the plate with a slice of cheese I got from a Sunday market on Pines Street. Of course, I had to make coffee, the three-in-one kind because my coffee maker broke last week, and I couldn’t find time to buy a replacement.

I guess this is where things lead for some, in being caught in the everyday and the quotidian. While everyone seems to be heading somewhere more important, doing stuff that will change the world, some choose to mop the floor, throw trash away, make breakfast, workout and be comforted by the belief that this is all there is to life.

 

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View from an old bicycle

It has become a routine for me now to borrow an old bike from an old woman living nearby and go around the neighborhood at 4:30 when the sun is not anymore as strong and the humidity already abated if only a little. Of course, I also take with me her conical hat because even though it’s already late in the afternoon, the sun can still do a lot of damage. I also have to don my wayfarers and apply a thick layer of sunblock lotion (of late I’ve been a little concerned about skin aging).

Going by bike makes me notice the vivid images of  people and the landscape they invade. Although I think taking pictures along the way makes me miss some details, at some point I have to sacrifice a few moments if only to make permanent the fleetingness of moving images.

There is so much beauty in the transitoriness and the now-ness of these images, but this beauty hinges upon the fact that it is ephemeral. A camera, in our all too human desire to capture this transience, can only arrest a moment, which is a mere simulation of what the eyes see; this seeing in itself is a version of that beauty.

Funny how everything appears to be of the moment, now. And this attempt on permanence render the subject unbeautiful, almost grotesque.

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A landscape like above is beautiful at the instance of being seen. The mediation made by the camera phone transforms it into a commonplace photograph unable to evoke anything but boredom.

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Notice how the self impinges itself into any captured photo wherever and whenever there’s an opportunity.

When can this self be truly obliterated?

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