Reset: Marathon

. I’ve trained to the best of everything within me.  Given circumstances and will-power (or lackthereof), I will not be aiming for a goal time of 3 hours and 30 minutes, but will simply aim to finish strong at 4 hours.  My last time in December 7 of 2008 was 3 hours and around 50 minutes.  I’m optimistic.

. I’ve noticed that in my running that from miles 20 to 25 is when my spirits are the lowest, I feel doomed, lonely, an overbearing sense of guilt in the indulgences I allowed myself in lieu of training (It’s the latent Catholic in me).  In retrospect, I shouldn’t be so masochistic.  I need to ride a mental balance of positive reinforcement, and constructive criticism… all in 26.2 miles.

. All the running is done by you.  It will be your left foot and right foot to carry you over the line.  No one else.

Checking In: Still here.

I fell off of training for a minute.  I had a previous goal of finishing the SF Marathon in 3hours and 30minutes, but since I fell off, I’m just looking to finish.  I can still run and roll with the punches, but training appropriately – meaning committing to a schedule and following through would put me in a position to finish strong.

But I’m back on it y’all. No lie.

Week 6, Day 4: Whoa… lazy day.

Day 4 of Week 6 was a strained 6 mile run completed in 47m and 30s.

I sqeezed out the run on the treadmill on 3.5 hours of sleep. Ugh.

While I ran I thought:

1) In light of watching X-men Origins: Wolverine , realized that the whole Marvel franchise is a cycling of Greek tragedies.  It’s not a bad thing, but it explains all of the mommy/daddy issues, self-awareness against the concepts of nationhood, of humanity and why many are so resonant with audience (note: resonant does not imply amazing).

2) I thought why the hell was I running.  Lack of sleep, compromises my immune system, making me susceptible to catch something.

3) I’ve been seeking out more and more photographic ghost-mentors (folks that I look to for guidance without ever breaching anonymity), and am taking a look at Tony Remington’s, Alan Dejecacion’s, and Sean Marc Lee’s Flickr accounts.  These folks are more accessible to me, somewhat easier to contact, and they interact with spaces and bodies that are more familiar.

4) I wish I practiced my writing so I could write like Jay.

5) (Yes)

more about “get down: Reflection For Eternity“, posted with vodpod

Week 6, Day 3: Easy does it.

Went on the treadmill again to save myself from the cold, biting winds outside.

Did 6 miles in 50m 10s.

Jumped on the weights for another 20minutes.

Some thoughts going through my head at the time:

1) Glad that I finally figured out why my Pentacon-Six was giving me these:

I only found out after shooting another roll with Monica that the shutter wasn’t completely shutting, so that there was a streak of overexposure/light leak in the shot (See the shot of my nephew, and of the Lozada side of the family).  In the slower shutter speeds, or later in the roll, the shutter would actually get stuck open – which explains why my dad and sister look ghostly in the last shot.

Sure this is an arugment for the digital side, but again there’s a value in the craft, mechanics, and work that’s still present in shooting film, especially from older cameras.  Perhaps it’s a dogmatic, old-school way of practice, but diligence always has it’s benefits, and for the most part, it’s worked in my favor.

2) On that tip, I’ll finally be expecting this lovely in the mail:

Can’t wait.  Can’t wait.

3) I’m driving down to Los Angeles and will be around from about May 6 – 8 to support a 2004 project entitled, ‘down so bad, looking up.’  It was my 2004 effort with Visual Commmunications Armed With a Camera Fellowship.  ‘down so bad..’ is a short experimental chronicle that features a fictional manong who found his voice with a bottle of whiskey, and Bukowski.  I had five minutes, and really pushed the structure and narrativity.  Of course, it’s disjunctive, odd… questionable.  But it’s sincere and aware of itself — I don’t know what that means, but I put some effort in it, and got some strong support so come out if you’re in the hood!  Oh, props to Muni Zano who acted in it, Terry Kosel, Jay Perez, and John Dion for listening to my rants, reviewing my scripts, or even rolling with me to Los Angeles (remember how we ended up volunteering Terry?).

Day 14: Running on Fumes

Day 14, Week -1;  March 12, 2009 @ 600AM

3 Miles, Treadmill – 24m 05sec

Threw in a rough workout after the running.  Running on less than four hours of sleep becuase of work, but the physical strain was much needed to reset my spirits for the day.

San Francisco International Asian American Film Festival 2009 starts today!

Support!

I was DP on the short One For Three, a short we shot in the sweltering hawt bastion of suburbia known as Fremont.  Good times, if you can get into the program it’s one of the stronger ones in the shorts series.

See y’all there…

Day 4: Swimming on two feet

Day 4, Week -5 / 10:15AM

10 miles, Camp Sawyer Trail off of Millbrae

Completed in approximately 1hr 30m

In the rain.  With Ninoy Brown of FOBBDeep.com

I enjoy running by myself, but I would like to run with more people, often.  When I caught wind of Ninoy Brown training for a half-marathon, I jumped at the opportunity to accompany him on one of his long runs.

‘Rain or Shine’ he said.

It was raining.  Pretty hard I might add.  I got up this morning thinking how drenched we were going to get, and wondering if a cold would follow thereafter, I wasn’t going to miss out on another day of training, much less flake on a friend so I layered, even brought a garbage bag in case I wanted to cover myself up in it, and headed to the Sawyer Camp Trail.  Full of sloping, rolling hill, mossy trees, large bodies of water, and deer, the trail provided a nice canvas for the sounds of our feet ambling, leaves rustlings, frogs croaking, and lungs wheezing.

Mr. Brown and myself were at a comfortable enough pace to tackle the 9 – 10 miles and still talk about work, and running around the world.

Running that path alone is great, I imagine attaining a zen-like trance that would most likely carry me miles and miles, but pairing up to encourage and marvel at scenerery wasn’t so bad either.

I skipped out on yesterday’s run to recoup from the Center for Asian American Media’s kickoff party, and to make sure I attended the screening of Manilatown is in the Heart: Time Travel with Al Robles.  The screening was at the Koret Auditorium at the SF Public Library.  It played to a modestly attended group comprised of some veteran cultural and community workers.  Al Robles’s birthday was on that day too, so after the screening we had birthday cake.

The film was a mish-mash of time periods with Al’s presence being featured.  Al’s poetry and essence was mostly captured on the film.  I was more impressed with the breadth of material that Choy had accumulated over time.  I have a mild addiction to watching formless footage, or time capsule footage — it feels mostly unadulturated, and sincere in it’s emanations of the qualities, and Choy’s footage of the manongs in Delano was no exception.  There was no reason to, but I teared at viewing that footage.  There’s a quality of continued humble and modest fraterity and love between the manongs… that their solo efforts to make a life in the United States isn’t in vain.

I’m bothered that Al doesn’t get the recognition he deserves.  The labor of love that is asking and listening, documenting, and advocating for the senior populations is a thankless task, but it’s necessary for the well being of any group of people…

I’ll stop this rant for now because it isn’t getting anywhere… but here’s a poem by Al Robles…

THE STRUGGLE OF THE MANONGS This place of the manongs This place of Pilipino farm workers Showed me where to follow Found imprints of Vera Cruz’s foot And hands in the trees, in The grapes in the soil Deep in Agbayani Village Beneath the trees grapes fallen We begin the long struggle The long jouney I awoke to the croaking sound Of fighting cocks Behind manong Candio’s house And soon began heading toward The backyard The shrill sound clearing my mind Circling around the treetops Like ravens Following the early summer morning Each step I took got deeper into the past Of the manongs It led us far, father across The road, the beginning of resistance The beginning of revolutionary struggle Autumn midnight In Agbayani Village The spirit of the Pilipino farmworkers. Finds its own way Their struggle with the Chicanos Is to go to battle For the poor farmworkers There is fire in the vineyards, In the fields on the road There is fire in the vineyards To give…we must walk with the Pilipino farmworkers Ablaze in summer cool in winder Anytime, man! Anytime, man! And your face will fear nothing Before the grapes ripened again We will rise up like fire Get rid of the rich white grower’s greed Voices on fire rise up!

(a poem about Philip Vera Cruz) No disheveled weathered grass-minds Lay dead around the rich grower’s ground Who will touch us Who will cripple us We will not sit still New struggles spring up bursting Flows over the fields Thunder cannot move us Let us all go to Delano Deep in Agbayani Village Let the fish swim deeper Across the fields Into the mouth of the manongs On arrival I saw poets cried down the grapes Our conversation Our love of the Pilipino Chicano farmworkers We still come back to Delano We still live by our struggle We still live by our poetry of resistance In the dark hours across the Delano vineyards The struggle against the white grower’s goes on I know the things of the manongs I know the lives in deep melancholy dreams Empty pockets soaked in old weathered work clothes Yet their life of struggle belongs to us I saw manong cardac and manong Willie And manong Candioand manong LaCuesta All of them…all of them… Circling around us Laying out things of the past Marks of brown feet Hidden dreams and memories still fermenting Whispering overhead shadows darken The face and chill the heart of poets © Al Robles

Notes and Ramblings

(As the title suggests, this is just a disparate collection of thoughts)

I have a new crush.

ACPAC

If there’s anything to be somewhat hopeful in film, these folks have it in their possession.

They leave me inspired.

**

Old School, Click here to read an article regarding music and his writing.

I just finished up Murakami’s collection of shorts Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman.  I need to rush through Kafka on the Shore, and if I have more time (which most of us never have) plow through South of the Border, West of the Sun.  I have to finish, consider I’m seeing him speak at Berkeley.

After going through this collection, I recalled how I had a short film that dealt with loss, and used a talking goldfish, a metaphysical garbage can, and projections of other “animals” which were manifestations of urban structures and freeway webs….

I also recalled another short film that dealt with a grandfather who had lost his fighting cock and wound up in the basement, and dregs of a large public library.  Pursued by a hapless grandson, the fighting cock inevitably gets away, and the grandfather inevitably forgives the grandson his ineptitude….

I wonder why I ever departed that wavelength.  It’s time I go back forward.

**

I don’t know why, but I like poppyseed bagels.

**

[Updated: 12:15 PM]

I’m bumping music at my work… and it’s pretty audible.

I’ve been using iMeem.  Been listening to Bambu for the last hour… I peeped his blog, and ran into this gift…

http://www.myspace.com/esperanzaspalding

She’s coming to town October 14 and 15 at Yoshi’s.  I don’t know bout y’all, but I’m going both days.

Yesterday, I also peeped a trailer of this film:

Where's your case?

From myparol.com:

Harana and Kundiman

Men in the Spanish period courted their women by singing underneath her window at night. This tradition is called the harana and still practiced in many parts of the country. The guitar or the ukulele are the most common instrument, and the specific type of music is called the kundiman, which usually begins with a minor key and then shifts to a major key in the second half; its lyrics are characterized by heavy poetic emotion that depicts the singer’s pleadings and offer to sacrifice everything on behalf of his beloved. Kundiman are lovesongs that define the Filipino gentleman’s romantic character.

This film is brought to you by the same folks who brought you The Gift of Barong.  I’m pretty jazzed about the docu.

**

I feel like eating a pork bun…

Incubator, 002

Filipino Village circa 2004. San Diego, National City. It was a space that seemed contested. Arguably, it still is, however, several factors, including budgetary shortfalls or re-appropriations leave the project in a purgatory littered with egos and history.

Combine all of these real or imagined implications with a bust of Jose Rizal – all that he represents, and is known for – in front of a Seafood City Supermarket…

… mix in San Diego’s Filipino population…

… with provincial humor, candor, and sentimentality (a la Fireman’s Ball)…

Add equal parts aging self-proclaimed scion for truth, and an aged trophy aktibista as strong opposing poles …

you have one awesome vignette for my feature.

Incubator, 001

Jerry the Security Guard at the office I work at has Rheumatoid Arthritis.

Receptive aphasia is a crystal ball to the universe.

Raymond Carver is dated, but still economical.

Shift.

Documenting past narratives and sharing them is important, and I often feel obligated to convey these narratives in a ‘true,’ form.

I’m referring to a recent entry regarding my upcoming trip to San Diego. Initially, the trip would be an opportune time for me to update an asset mapping project. This included scheduled interviews in the short time window.

However, I’m fickle, and expressing my ’selfish-ness’ once more, I’ve decided to take the opportunity to revisit memories more intimately, document these on stills, on film (as opposed to digital – to build a self-inflicted method of torture)… I’m being more meticulous about my pre-production methodology so I can write the damn script already.

Just know that it’s a film about San Diego, all of it.

So again with the process of filmmaking… in solitude… with a better attitude…

…I’m going to own this shit.