Yuck Time
Nobody can tell what the universe will send up your alley. Yesteday I came across a compilation of newspaper columns I wrote for a weekly regional newspaper in Leyte from 1996-1998. These are essays written in another time - and I do not just mean this in a literal way. I thought I have lost these columns - I knew I had copies of the newspaper somewhere, but I thought they got lost when we transferred houses. But such is life. One day someone simply comes forward to ask you what to do with a bunch of old newspapers stashed in a box that has not been opened for five years and voila! the past has come back to haunt you.
I do not know what to do with these columns. There is a part of me that says I should burn them to protect myself from unnecessary public ridicule. But there is also a part of me that somehow believes history should not be tampered with and thinks these columns should be thrown back into the box and left to the designs of fate.
Anyway. But in fairness, there are some columns that I think can pass off as serious attempts at writing. One of these was a piece on the death of my best friend Abes - someone I still miss very very dearly to this day, almost ten years after his death. I am looking for a picture of Abes so that I can republish that essay along with his picture.
I do not know what to do with these columns. There is a part of me that says I should burn them to protect myself from unnecessary public ridicule. But there is also a part of me that somehow believes history should not be tampered with and thinks these columns should be thrown back into the box and left to the designs of fate.
Anyway. But in fairness, there are some columns that I think can pass off as serious attempts at writing. One of these was a piece on the death of my best friend Abes - someone I still miss very very dearly to this day, almost ten years after his death. I am looking for a picture of Abes so that I can republish that essay along with his picture.
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