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BY PETER SOLIS NERY
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Friday January 13, 2017
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TONIGHT, Friday night, at around 7 p.m., as part of the Urban Baylehan 2017 project hosted by Project Iloilo, I will be reading… err, performing excerpts from At My Father’s Wake at the Shops at the Atria Mall in Iloilo City.
At My Father’s Wake is my latest book due for publication in the US in Spring 2017. It is a strange book born out of my father’s death. At its heart is the 10-poem collection, 10 elegies-in-sequence, first written in glorious Hiligaynon, then translated into the saddest English, and into heartfelt Filipino. Yep, written and translated by the poet himself, Peter Solis Nery. Hey, that’s me!
Wait, there’s more. In addition to the 30-poems total, 16 readers also wrote essays (reviews, critiques, introductions, and what-not) about the elegies in three languages: seven in English, five in Filipino, and four in Hiligaynon. The holy 16 are virtually from the Who’s Who? of, not only Western Visayan literature, but, Philippine lit in general: two Garcias, Locsin-Nava, Turao, Feliciano-Reyes, Bernabe, Asenjo, Maranan, Angeles, de Leon, Insilada, Java, and Tan. Okay, three multi-racial Americans were thrown into the lot; is that such a crime? No, you have to buy the book to know which Americans are these.
Plus (yes, there’s more), there’s the big scholarly introduction: “‘Do not Go Gentle into That Good Night’: A Prolegomenon of the Introductory Essays to the Elegies” by poet and West Visayan literary historian Felino S. Garcia, Jr., one of the two Garcias mentioned earlier.
No, I’m not selling the book. Not now anyway. And not until its American debut in the Spring. Instead, I’m selling my performance tonight at the Urban Baylehan event. Because, well, it’s probably one of my last public performances before I fly back to the land of plenty next month. And how can you afford to miss a performance art by one Peter Solis Nery? Especially by THE Peter Solis Nery — actor, director, agent provocateur?
Confession: I messed up big and booked a Creative Writing and Filmmaking Workshop in Kalibo on the Dinagyang weekend, Jan. 21-22. So I’ll miss being a spectator at the Dinagyang revelry. Mea culpa. Can you ever forgive me?
My flight to Manila (en route to the US) on Feb. 2 is non-rebookable, but I’m still on for The STAGE: Institute for Communication’s first Creative Writing course in the Write Courses series. I’ll be teaching Flash Fiction with this very special schedule: Jan 17 (Tue) 5:30-7:30 p.m.; Jan 24 (Tue) 5:30-7:30; Jan 28 (Sat) 2-4 p.m.; and Jan 31 (Tue) 5:30-7:30.
If you haven’t enrolled yet, contact The Stage at 09150571088 or 09391036184. If you’ve already enrolled, you know that the classes will be held at the 2nd floor of Robinson’s Jaro. Just look for The Stage!
Yeah, I will be sharing at least 25 years worth of writing experience, even if only three or four years of them were focused on flash or microfiction. And yes, I will actually teach you how to write more than just your name.
So, anyway, back to the Spoken Word event at the Shops at Atria tonight. I’m not sure if I’m going to dress up crazy, but I will definitely make a performance. I mean, Urban Baylehan has a Cosplay event scheduled tomorrow, Saturday; but I am Peter Solis Nery, and even I can’t predict my next move. When the inspiration feels right, I just go naked. Or something like that! Haha.
The organizers gave me a six-minute time limit. In most likelihood, I’ll honor that. But make sure you catch every millisecond of my 360 seconds. Yes, even when it seems I’m doing nothing. And sure, bring a camera because I will actually allow you to record my performance. Just don’t come too close, I often have my very vigilant bodyguards nearby. For heaven’s sake, get some telephoto lens!
Meanwhile, from At My Father’s Wake collection, here’s a poem, Fourth Elegy, which you may, or may not, see performed at the Atria tonight:
“They all cried / Mom, Big Sister, Small Sister / Even Big Brother and Little Brother / Your coworkers related stories / Didn’t say anything ugly about you / As if you were a different person.//
“Pity, you didn’t hear / How they praised you. / In church, emotions were choked / Like a tired heart beating with difficulty / Even though tears were not shed. // The tired candle was also weeping.//
“I have no words / I think of nothing but food / For those who came, funeral services to be paid / I thought about tomorrow and the coming days.//
“So I just cried along with the chaos / More for my new responsibilities / Than your eternal rest.//
“It’s harder to be an orphan than to be buried. / The burnt candle can rest / Those left behind will continue to mourn / To pray, and to pay the debts.”/PN
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