sarit samot sari
My grammar-obsessed kuya has been reading my blog without mentioning it to me and I only found out about it recently when he had sent(sic) me a few books as Christmas gifts. Two of which is (sic) about grammar and proper punctuation: one is called Dictionary of Common Errors by Longman and the other one is Eats, Shoots & Leaves. He also got me The Complete Plain Words written by some British grammarian with the title ‘Sir’ attached to his name. Well, that’s what I get for not proofreading my entries before I post them but who cares?!! I don’t really care if I have a lot of lapses in grammar and punctuation heck even Chomsky meron grammar lapses (sic) (sic) (sic) tayo pa kayang mga ‘ESL’ mortals!? And even after I had memorized the tiny grammar bible by Strunk and White from the table of contents to the appendix (walang appendix, actually), I will and still have lapses in grammar (sic). Hmp! sige na nga magkukwit na kong magturo tutal naman wala akong naituturong magaling sa mga koloky eh. But hey, at least I don’t (not anymore heh) use words freshly harvested from Thesaurus like some people do dont do do dont hehehe; and the accuracy of my auxilliary verbs, prepositions and verb tenses are(sic) in a fairly decent level (less than half of the time, that is!) , o di ba? Going back to my kuya, he teaches Accounting and some subjects in Economics at a community college in the Bay Area and moonlights every Thursday as a driver of a ten-wheeler truck that transports fresh produce in (sic) the whole west coast. Trucks and any form of enormous automobiles fascinate him for reasons none of us - his siblings - could ever comprehend. He envisions himself owning a state-of-the art Winnebago in the near future so he could drive it on to oblivion. (sic) He once told me that if it were not for his kids he would have long ago sold his house so he can fulfill his dream of being constantly on the road in a big trailer truck. He’s a hopeful romantic and a major league escapist, but, I FEEL him (sort of… hehehe). Thank you kuya! 
So, I and the glamorous Sachi eb-ed last Saturday; first we had a very nice pasta and pizza late luch in an Italian resto on the 8th floor of Isetann in Shinjuku. Then she wanted to buy some suede gloves that would match her black coat so we proceeded to Takashimaya on the south side of Shinjuku station where Tokyu Hands and Kinokuniya Book Store are also located. It had been pouring like crazy the whole day and very cold thank heavens we right away found a nice drinking joint along the vicinity. It’s called ‘hub’ a British pub, not exactly authentic but they had a ‘happy hour’ between 5 and 7 PM and the all the cocktails were priced half (sic). Oh, and prior to the gloves-purchasing moment and cocktail drinking spree, Sachi also experienced a sudden desire to have our photos taken (again, remember the ones with Ajay? It’s the same same) inside one of those pulicula booths. It was fun and it produced great photos of us two, may I say so if. I got a box of ultra delicious Ginza madeleine chewy cookies from her and I in turn promised that I would bake some coconut macaroons and leche flan (gagayahin ko si Shaluv) and send them to her via Kuroneko Fresh Takkyubin when she feels the longing for them sweets. Thanks ate Sachi! / This poem is for this kid, about 10 or 12 year-old Turk boy, who, one afternoon as I and Luiji were sitting down on a bench at a park overlooking the Aegean sea somewhere in Izmir Turkey, came up to us and offered to shine our shoes. We both would have been more than happy to let him but the thing was we were both wearing hiking shoes, as we had just been hiking and exploring ruins on dusty hills in that area. Clearly, our shoes were not really in need of cleaning much less polishing. I said yes anyway and gestured to him that just brushing them would be sufficient; I reached in to my pocket after he had finished the task and handed him a Turkish coin that probably amounted to a dollar. He refused while mumbling some words that I could have only surmised as “that’s no big deal really, I didn’t do much”. I insisted on giving him the coin and finally after a minute of me insisting it he took it. As he was getting up I saw his shoes, low-cut sneakers that were extremely worn-out and falling apart around the toe area. Earlier on the same day, Luiji had just thrown away a semi-new pair of sneakers (any extra baggage would be an additional hassleburden as we were traveling with only one backpack each) as he had purchased and replaced them with the more comfortable hiking boots he was wearing at that moment. Life is synchronously strangely (hey, double adverb!) funny that way. But as they say, the poor and the oppressed are always first in the queue and given high priority at the pearly gates. Ok, little shoe shine fella here’s one for ya:
An Ode to the Shoeshine Boy Who Brushed my Sneakers in Izmir Park by the Aegean
Hope and fervent mirror in your hazel eyes
Your ridged young nails blackened with dust
And shoe grime.
You seem to like what you do
I don’t know for sure
Perhaps the choice is not for you.
You carry your dilapidated box
On your shoulder with its old leather strap
You look dignified.
People’s coverings of feet
You make them look bright
In this town they claim
Birthplace of Homer.
I can see all the toes of your left foot
Your own shoes that you can’t polish
Have seen better days.
You, a young shoe-polisher
Good at what you do,
Cannot polish your own shoe.
i’m going away i’m sad to say for many a day
for many a day i’m going away
will you still come and visit me
even if i’m away for many a day?
i’ll think of you, you, and you
all of you, while i’m away
for many a day.
