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Daily Archives: October 7, 2009

Life Is A Highway

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Had my BP taken Sunday night in a health center near our place. It was 90/60. No idea how serious that was. They said it wasn’t normal. Low blood. OK.

So that’s why I’ve been feeling like a hapless jelly the whole day.

The next day, I still felt weak. And then Nick Jr.’s Hey, Arnold! called me up and invited me to go to Taal, Batangas to take pictures of the old historical town. I thought I felt my blood pressure surge when I heard the invite! Haven’t traveled for a long time. So I dressed up in a haste and left immediately to meet up with him in Alabang (more about this viaje patriótico as soon as he emails me the pictures).

After the Taal trip, I headed back home in a hurry to fetch my laptop for work. It was already very late. Yes, I had no sleep at all when I arrived at the office. I was planning to be absent, but my boss texted me earlier that there will be two from our team who’d be absent. And that includes him. Drats. No choice but to go to work. And so the weakness I suffered the previous day worsened during my night shift.

Yesterday’s after-office aftermath was the charm: I contracted chills and a slight fever, creamed on the top with heavenly cough (oh how yummy). Then I completely lost my voice. I was absent last night. Today I still feel like melted cheese.

My condition actually worsened because of that Taal trip. But I just had to travel. Arnold was actually disappointed with me because these past few months since he moved to Cebú, I haven’t done much chronicling myself. He has chronicled much of Cebú and its surrounding provinces –no blogger has ever done that so far– but I did nothing but tinker with my Facebook account and engaged myself in writing crap; well, the reason I did that was to simply pacify my wife who was getting very worried with the blogposts I’ve been writing about La Gloria and her questionable administration. So that’s why I thought it best to write something about La Greta.

But maybe Arnold’s write: I’m a historian, not a political analyst/critic. I should begin here in FILIPINO eSCRIBBLES what I’ve already started in ALAS FILIPINAS.

I made a promise to myself that before I reach the age of 40, I should have traveled the whole Philippine archipelago, and I should have chronicled all the original towns that were created by the Spanish friars. But with the rate that I’m going now, I think it’s getting late although my target is still 10 full years away.

Nervously, I might not make it. The chest pains in the heart area’s getting frequent these past months. I don’t need no cardiologist to tell me something’s wrong with the pump (not unless the doctor’s a Shakira look alike). I already know. Last week, when I got back home from the office, I wasn’t able to breathe normally for almost three hours. Wifey scolded me all throughout, complaining about my lifestlye (usually three to four hours of sleep), blaming my mind for thinking too much (?), and all that jazz. Haha. She even sounded like some crackhead’s mother in the process. But I understand her concern, of course.

Well, now I’m getting more concerned. I ain’t ready to die yet. Got so much to do, and –you guessed it– so little time.

I don’t want my heart to stop me… I’d rather let my travels do the job. Because

“I’m a road freak”

I love traveling high speed on a smooth highway, with green fields and moist, lush forests on either side of the road, the sun fighting gathering clouds for bragging rights over the skies immortal. I prefer that the road I tread on to be canopied with centuries-old trees, the scent of flowers in the air –everywhere– and mighty mountains creeping over the horizon and beyond the fields, with the winds howling in my ears. In the end, I’ll see that…

José Mario Alas

The urban nightwinds
Are howling in his ears.

Rubber tires speeding
Eating asphalt
Faster than how his
Perceive light and
everything else

With a sudden screech, everything reminded him
Of everyone else:
Past, present, future perfect
As the hungry wheels turn to a hault:
A Mozart pause in a high-octane concierto

Launching him high,
Seeing the ground
falling towards him:
Rocking his head
Caressing his face
Raking his ears
Numbing the body
Bloodying his words.

The urban screeches
Will be but echoes faraway
As faraway things and faces
s l o w l y
Lifts him away

At light speed.

Copyright © 2010
José Mario Alas
Manila, Philippines
All rights reserved.

Oddly, this was how my “goodbye, cruel world!” appeared to me in a fevered vision. I wrote the sick poem above on 01/15/03.

Ergo, not knowing how to drive at my age is a blessing.

One of my favorite highways!!!

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