Tuesday, November 20, 2007

The Blossoming of Maximo Oliveros

As chronicled by Glenn Ala at 4:33 PM
It was at the height of popularity of the movie, Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros, when my mom brought home the cutest puppy with the saddest little eyes.

So I thought it would be cute to call the newest member of the family, Maxi.

And here is chronicled the blossoming of Maximo Oliveros (the mutt).

Don't you just love the look on his face? Makes you want to snuggle and cuddle him.

With my brothers, Andrew and Ian.

With my sister, Mikee.

Shhhh....

Growing bigger. And growing spots!

There was a time when I allowed him to sleep on the bed with me. But then he grew bigger and bigger and started shedding his hair so now I send him out to sleep on the veranda.

Here is Maxi now, all grown up. It took me close to 50 shots to get him to pose. He has turned into the most hyperactive dog so I couldn't get him to stop and "pose" for the camera.

This was a "stolen" shot. I kinda sneaked up on him so I could take this.

Eventually, he grew tired of dodging the camera and posed long enough for this shot.

Okay, enough said. Time for your bath, Maxi!
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The Chronicler's Creed

Where there's water and sun, where there are friends to see or new people to meet, where there's something new to learn, experience, or do, where there's life, there I will be.

LA POESÍA

Y fue a esa edad... Llegó la poesía
a buscarme. No sé, no sé de dónde
salió, de invierno o río.
No sé cómo ni cuándo,
no, no eran voces, no eran
palabras, ni silencio,
pero desde una calle me llamaba,
desde las ramas de la noche,
de pronto entre los otros,
entre fuegos violentos
o regresando solo,
allí estaba sin rostro
y me tocaba.

And it was at that age... Poetry arrived
in search of me. I do not know, I do not know where
it came from, from winter or a river.
I do not know how or when,
no, they were not voices, they were not
words, nor silence,
but from a street I was summoned,
from the branches of night,
abruptly from the others,
among violent fires
or returning alone,
there I was without a face
and it touched me.

- An excerpt from LA POESÍA (Poetry) by Pablo Neruda