Beef pares announces itself before it reaches the table. You smell it from a few steps away. Beef simmering in a dark sauce. Garlic hitting hot oil. Soy sauce, black
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I wear many Hats.
Writer. Author. Builder. Learner. Human being.
In a world where you can be anything, be yourself, for everyone else is taken. This is where the writing lives, along with the books, the projects, the half-finished ideas and the ordinary things that make a life. Dxsign.shop is updated, as I grow as I go through this strange and beautiful miracle called life.
Live a little.
Live a wild and beautiful life.
BLOG.
Live a little. Live a wild and beautiful life.
If something here speaks to you — a book, a piece of writing, a portfolio piece — I would genuinely like to hear about it. Letters are welcome, and answered, eventually.
Becoming
not simply arriving.
For me, life is a precious miracle. Perhaps the journey was never about arriving at the end of the road. Perhaps it was about becoming the kind of person worthy of the journey.
I make things.
I write things.
I build things.
I learn things.
I have never been able to answer the question, “what do you do?” with a single word. A human being does not have to fit neatly into one box. So this is not a portfolio, and it is not a résumé. It is a body of work — books, writing, websites, software, research, and a long list of interests that have not finished with me yet.
Craft
Made by hand, held in the hand
Here in the Philippines, we are accustomed to traditional craftspeople whose work is often visible through the callouses on their hands.
People who make doormats, trinkets, furniture, woven goods, and all kinds of beautiful handicrafts. I am similar in some peripheral way because I have made an honest and modest livelihood through books I have written with my own hands, books that I can hold, touch, and experience with my senses.
There is something deeply satisfying about creating something that did not exist before and eventually being able to hold it in your hands.
Photographs on this page are placeholders. Every image in this theme is meant to be replaced with your own.
Manila
Placeholder — a street, a table, a bowl of something simmered for hours.
A little like the city that raised me
My favorite food is beef pares, tenderly cooked beef simmered for several hours until the meat practically melts in your mouth.
Its taste cannot easily be contained by a poverty of vocabulary when it is cooked just right, and the stew is simply the icing on the cake. In a strange way, it reminds me of the beautiful ways God has arranged my heart through my unique experiences in life.
Manila itself feels like a melting pot, no pun intended, of food, beverages, languages, art, people, contradictions, and real life. I think I have become a little like the city that raised me.
Written in Manila, where the traffic is an argument and the food is an apology.
No one should feel forgotten.
In my spare time, like a spare car tire, my right hand does not know how much my left hand has given, and vice versa. Over the years, I have given to orphanages, street children and their families, the elderly, women seeking livelihood opportunities, widows, and people who are on the fringes of society. My logic is simple: I never want anyone to feel as though they have been forgotten by society.
Sometimes it does not take much. People on the streets have actually smiled at me simply because I gave them a cookie. That smile can stay with you much longer than you expect.
This section deliberately lists no amounts, no partners and no photographs of the people helped. Their dignity is not a design element.