Indulgence

a very lovely fish bowl

Winston Churchill
We make a living by what we get, we make a life by what we give.

I have fallen in love with the book Kissing in Manhattan by David Schickler. This is the kind of writing I wanted to get into: very urban, very magickal and yet, very true. It is simple and straight-forward yet it is enchanting and very mythical yet probable. I love it. In fact, it was an idea of mine to write a book of short stories where all the characters live in the same building and while each character appears in every story, every story features one truth represented by one of the tenants. Lives interesect and amazing things happen to other people living just next door and they are totally oblivious to it. It was to be called Nine Stories; 9 different tenants, 9 different characters. Now, there's no need to do so. Kissing in Manhattan has achieved what I wanted to do. There's no need. I'm very happy with the book.

I borrowed it from Anne; though it was thrown in my lap by Berna. I had just finished Last of the Amazons and while I was already thinking of what to read next, Berna walks up to me in the office and throws the book on my lap and she said, "Read this, you'll like it." I was a little peeved by this; having wanted to plan out my 10-book reading list and she had already inserted Interpreter of Maladies when Last of the Amazons had come first; I let her. I loved Interpreter of Maladies and she meant well. I just let it happen and I'm glad I did because now, if someone asked me What is your favourite book? my answer would be simple. Kissing in Manhattan.

I read 1 chapter in Manila and then helped guide my cousin to Balai sa Laiya where I was the whole weekend. On the beach, I zipped, sun-bathed, swam and drank. We listened to music and talked. My cousin pretty much guessed I wouldn't get much reading done, but to our suprise, I sneaked in about 4 or 5 chapters in. I had read more chapters when I got home and, because of sun burn, could not do much, stayed in bed and took in more stories. I fell asleep before 12 and woke up at 9 in the morning. I read 2 more chapters, read a whole chapter on the commute to the office and then finished the last 2 chapters in front of my computer.

You know what? I really am a beach person. How tickled I am about the whole idea of living by the sea, in a house constantly aired by the ocean air. The smell of salt and sand constantly in my nose. I can imagine waking to the sound of the surf and taking fresh fruits in the morning and drinking coffee and staring out at the waves. I would love it, I think. I'd swim in the ocean, sun-bathe all morning, have an afternoon of grilled fish or pork and fresh tomatoes and greens and then more fruits for dessert. Then I'd write all afternoon. Take a drive to the city and meet up with friends over dinner and drinks. I'd leave back for the beach at early morning and be home before the sun is up. A long drive, yes, but what a pleasant life.

I always thought of myself as an urbanite; needing the city to survive. But that kind of set-up doesn't seem so bad to me. Anyhow, I could do a lot of thinking on the drive back and forth. I could fill myself with privacy and then fill myself with company when I'm in the city. I could, maybe, buy or rent a small condo in the city if the drive back would prove to taxing.

Now that's a set-up I wouldn't mind. I could get a place in Batangas and I'd need a good car, most probably diesel and I think I'd be the happiest little fish in the world. That'd be a fish bowl I could get very comfortable with. I can already imagine what my house would look like and what my condo in the city would look like. My car would definitely be an SUV. I'm sorry, but I'm really an SUV sort of person. And my land would have tons of trees and it would be windy always and sometimes at night, I'd fire zip. On weekends, either my family or my friends would come over for the free stay at a beach. I could just imagine myself, sitting in a little cabana in the sand, with my lap top, writing about the stories of the city; those stories of the time that I used to live in it, when I was growing up and the stories of my life when I was college.

Yeah, that's a very lovely fish bowl to live in.

posted by wanggo @ 2:12 PM