Tower of Song

Tower of Song by Leonard Cohen with U2

A perfect song to suit my mood in this cold, rainy night. Put your headset on and let Cohen's poetry and raw voice take you to places you'd like go.

Well my friends are gone and my hair is grey

I ache in the places where I used to play

And Im crazy for love but Im not coming on

Im just paying my rent every day

Oh in the tower of song

I said to hank williams: how lonely does it get?

Hank williams hasnt answered yet

But I hear him coughing all night long

A hundred floors above me

In the tower of song

I was born like this, I had no choice

I was born with the gift of a golden voice

And twenty-seven angels from the great beyond

They tied me to this table right here

In the tower of song

So you can stick your little pins in that voodoo doll

Im very sorry, baby, doesnt look like me at all

Im standing by the window where the light is strong

Ah they dont let a woman kill you

Not in the tower of song

Now you can say that Ive grown bitter but of this you may be sure

The rich have got their channels in the bedrooms of the poor

And theres a mighty judgement coming, but I may be wrong

You see, you hear these funny voices

In the tower of song

I see you standing on the other side

I dont know how the river got so wide

I loved you baby, way back when

And all the bridges are burning that we might have crossed

But I feel so close to everything that we lost

Well never have to lose it again

Now I bid you farewell, I dont know when Ill be back

There moving us tomorrow to that tower down the track

But youll be hearing from me baby, long after Im gone

Ill be speaking to you sweetly

From a window in the tower of song

Yeah my friends are gone and my hair is grey

I ache in the places where I used to play

And Im crazy for love but Im not coming on

Im just paying my rent every day

Oh in the tower of song

Sky-Watch Friday: Baguio sunset

sunset at Diplomat Hill, Baguio City
taken by my friend Edong up in Baguio


Let me, O let me bathe my soul in colors, let me swallow the sunset and drink the rainbow.

~ Kahlil Gibran


More amazing sky photos from around the world at Sky-Watch Friday.

Litratong Pinoy: Eksayted (excited)

Halos halikan ko ang sahig ng Louvre Museum no'ng una akong pumasok rito. Hindi ako makapaniwala na mabibisita ko ang pamosong museum na ito sa Paris at makakaharap sa tunay na buhay ang mga obra na nakikita ko lang dati sa mga libro. Lalo na ang sikat na larawan ni Mona Lisa na iginuhit ni Leonardo da Vinci noong 16th century. Sa aking eksaytment, naiwan ko sa tren ang aking nabiling sapatos (huhuhu!).

Louvre Museum, Paris

I almost kissed the floor of the Louvre Museum the first time I set foot in its lobby. I could never believe that I was actually visiting the world-famous museum in Paris, and that I'd be able to see, face to face, the works of art that I only saw in books---especially the famous Mona Lisa, a portrait painted by Leonardo da Vinci in the 16th century. In my excitement, I left behind in the train a pair of shoes that I just bought.

More exciting photos at Litratong Pinoy.

Wordless Wednesday: a Baguio afternoon

Foggy mountains along Kennon Road in Baguio


He who climbs upon the highest mountains laughs at all tragedies, real or imaginary.

~ Friedrich Nietzsche

Photos taken by my friend Edong who lives in Baguio City.

Posted for Wordless Wednesday.

I'm a tropical fish

My friend J is getting ready for her daughter’s 4^th birthday and she’s worried that it would be too cold on Maxine's birthday for kids to have an outdoor party. She lives in Toronto and she said to have mastered the art of chilled entertainment. Again, she invited me to spend Christmas with them, but at -10 degrees C or colder, even if I have the money (which I don’t), it would be like spending Christmas in Antarctica which is not and never will be in my wish list.

My coldest memory is the Easter weekend of 2002 in New York City. I spent my savings for a New York vacation---it was the end of winter, and the city was cold and wet. I was looking forward to experience New York City in spring but I arrived a bit too early. The snow had melted but left a biting cold in the air and a muddy slush that resembles the streets of Manila during rainy season. In the mornings, I could barely get out of bed, shivering despite the heater and I had to be dragged to take a shower. All I wanted to do was to stay in bed the whole day and read "One Hundred Years of Solitude". Itchy pimples erupted all over my face, I developed bad cold and a cough that sounded like coming from the wards of QI. There seemed to be not enough layers of thermal wear to keep me warm. I was cold and miserable, wishing I was dead...wishing I was back in hot and humid Manila. The sight of leafless trees and gray skies didn't cheer me up, either.

My feelings, it seem, have been oriented by the degree of sunlight as far back as I can remember. For reasons which will be, perhaps, more obvious to doctors than to me, hot and cold are two points of two clusters of images and emotions. As I reflect at this moment, I get the following associations: Hot---warm, bright sunlight, green fields, fountains, al fresco dining, ice cream, long drive, clear, blue skies, sweat, fiesta, bare feet, beach, mountains, kites, hammock, sunglasses, afternoon naps, cold beer, shorts, cotton shirts, flip flops, boats, travel. Cold---rain, wind, wet, damp shoes, slow-moving traffic, sea disasters, mob of umbrellas, clogged gutters, hot soup, flood, bulky jackets, isolation, stressed commuters, hot chocolate, cough, runny nose, boredom, sleep, cold morning showers, road accidents, storm, soggy jeans, grey skies, black out.

In cold weather, I'm a tropical fish stranded in the middle of the Arctic Ocean. If you've seen a tropical fish banging on the sides of the aquarium, that would be me. Life will only be bearable if I stay in bed in my pajamas, defenseless like a sick puppy. I do not really function properly until I can wear flip flops, shorts and t-shirt; grace and kindness evaporate when the temperature dips low and rain becomes a relentless, torrential downpour.

When I read the morning paper, after a brief glance at the obituary page, I concentrate on the weather news---if it's going to be rainy, cloudy, stormy or sunny, its immediate importance goes beyond any headline, scandal, scathing editorial and showbiz gossip.

Should circumstances ever allow me to retire someday soon (I’m still too poor to retire), I’d like to retire in a little fishing town on an island outside the typhoon belt where the sun shines 365 days in a year. There, not I hope alone, I shall eat fish, play music, read, and die content.

Photos taken at the Manila Ocean Park.