Initial thoughts: Please put these in some sort of format. There's plenty of CSS that works, such as the one used by Sov in 009, or even just the basic box you get from >. Right now this looks really goofy.
also note the ¶ means i think you should break it up
Also also note that Entry # is how I think you should format those headers. I can also draft up my own idea of how these can be formatted if u wanna :)
also also also: does his journal begin when he arrives? if not, put like "extraneous entries abridged" or something. actually you can do that for all of them
Entry 1
¶ Here I am again, in Laguna. Beautiful weather, majestic scenery. Visiting my grandparents here is a welcome break from my day job… They really do work us like buffaloes back at the newsrooms. And I can’t say I’ll miss the smell of garbage being burnt in the morning. But oh, what a contrast! Nothing but sweet serenity here in Pila. My grandpa always makes the most excellent lumpia tinapa, minsan rin may kasama pang kape. He preceded it with an appetizer of Puto, too. For all his cooking skill, I think old Lolo might have messed up the process… It’s sweet and all that he waited a few days when he heard I was arriving, but I think he let the egg incubate too long. It was still good, though. After dinner, we turned down the lights and played a few games of billiard. It was great fun, I won a few times. I hadn’t played in a while, so they had to catch me up on the rules a bit - they remembered perfectly. Guess it’s about the only thing they have for fun around here.
the size of the journals can be kind of intimidating, and while these entries are sweet, consider how much A) the authority feels is relevant to the case and B) how much the reader is going to bother reading
¶ They asked me a lot of nosy questions about my affairs in the business world… They do talk a lot about how city folks are kanya-kanya, ‘self-centered’ they’d say. I suppose they think I might be infected! Truth be told, I might… I do play around and talk at the office a lot. Well, they shouldn’t worry. Pan isn’t exactly a saintly practice either, especially as it was in their day. They frittered their money away at Pan, we fritter away ours at the malls… to point fingers at each other is silly, isn’t it? We’re just on our own paths. Besides, for all its faults, it’s hard not to get swept up in the sheer enthusiasm of the city.
keep an eye out for bolded bits
¶ There’s real life there, and real humanity. That’s what I wanna get hope to capture with my articles. I mean, just the other day I interviewed this guy who was crowned winner in a local eating competition. It isn’t much, I know, but tThe gleam in his eyes as he scarfed down that last chorizo… there’s something there!
¶ I’ve still got a whole 5 days before I go back. I really shouldn’t be thinking about my job. There’s a whole lot of lounging around to do.
Entry 3
¶ I was taking a walk through the town today. It was nice. As the breeze from the lake ruffled through the trees, I think I knew how it must have felt to be one of my ancestors. If only my friends back in the city could see me now, sailing the deep green waters in a cute little boat. I got to meet a few of the neighbors I hadn’t gotten the chance to see earlier, like the Castillo family and their adorable son. An elderly man named Nikvey Eynaim told me to check out this old historic house. I wasn’t too interested, but I figured that I might as well find it. I was lucky that I did. It was really a sight to behold. Masterful sculpture work on the exterior, and the inside is so incredulously comfortable too. It’s amazing how they’ve managed to keep it so clean and intact, after all this time. The building’s practically spotless. Had to be getting back to pack up, but I’d love to know more about its past! Eynaim said it had been a pub at one point. It seems like it’s older than that, certainly. Had to kiss my grandfather and grandmother goodbye, but I was on my way. but even these sunny vistas can’t hold me long.
the mention of the cute little boat in the beginning bothers me b/c youre saying "hes walking through the town" and mentions "oh if only they could see me now"… in a boat? wasn't he walking? the train of thought gets derailed a little there
Entry 4
¶ A few days since my return, and I can’t say the city’s humdrum has grown on me. My car got stuck in a massive pothole yesterday and I almost broke my back pushing it out, even with the help of some good samaritans. And after all that, I can’t even find a parking spot. Sayang! Ended up parking in the middle of the street, because screw it at that point. Even that is more help than I get around the office, though. I’m sure the top guys at this firm work very hard, but here with the smaller journalists and printers, I send something off to someone and it takes forever. I ask the man at the printers, Christopher, to get my short article test printed to see how it looks. He tells me it’d be done yesterday. It’s been a full two days by now. How long could it possibly take?
¶ My fellow reporters never accompany me to cover events, either. They’re talking, talking, talking, and they just talk right over me. They call me lazy, but they’d steal my work given half the chance! How am I supposed to be productive when things are like this? I feel anxious to get back to my grandparents, and to Laguna. I was at the karaoke bar last night, and we sung sang the song “Ang Huling El Bimbo”. I know it’s a bit silly, but the lyrics had the word house in it, you know, and it got me thinking about the townhouse again. Such an odd place, I wonder who it was built for.
Entry 5
¶ Today, instead of going to work, I decided to go to the library. I think my time is better spent learning rather than doing nothing.. sa mga hayop na iyon. Besides, learning some history would be good for my writing. Because I’d like to know more about it, I decided to see what the history of the townhouse was. I had to search through a lot of similar houses in the record book, but none had quite the ambiance of the house I knew, so it was pretty easy to find even with all the tiny thumbnails. Apparently, the house was built in around 1569, as the house of a prominent Spanish general. The man in question was Miguel Lopez de Legazpi, the first Spanish governor of the Philippines. He had the house constructed as a place for comfort in his later years, from which he could send delegations. Apparently the furniture wasn’t even built in the colonies, he had it imported by ship. Given the sheer quality, I see why he would.
translate the Filipino text in a footnote maybe? also its a bit of a stretch with all this info about this particular house being in a library far from the actual town the house is in right? i thought the house was somewhat obscure?
¶ Something interesting the book noted about the house is the bamboo flooring. Usually, houses in the Spanish style had wooden floors, so it really was an odd synthesis. Another thing which intrigued me was just how labor intensive the process of the limestone coating was on the walls. In the process they used, they put lumps of lime in a pit and left them there to macerate for four whole months. Every day of those months, a layer of milk lime formed at the top, was removed, the paste mixed, and covered again. This method was long, but it improved the usability of the paint. This really is great, I spent I ended up spending the whole day at the library.
¶ I bet that I can use this to make a gripping documentary about this house. On the way back I met up with some friends at the mall. They said they missed me, so I made sure to stay with them late tonight. We drank.
Entry 8
¶ I find myself oOnce again in Laguna. Meeting up again with my grandparents was nice. I sat around a bit on the veranda, and we made small talk. I noticed that the chandeliers in their house looked like they were of old Spanish make. They didn’t know where they got them, unfortunately. Then I went to see the wonderful scenery, and walk past all the townhouses.
¶ Nikvey took me through on a tour of the house. I traced my hand over every contour of the dressers. The amount of polishing and carving that it took must have been insane. I imagine the Italian sculptor, toiling away at his masterpiece. And he kept telling me all these fascinating things about it, and namely its owner. Legazpi, so he says, had a grandson named Juan de Salcedo. This grandson was a brave conquistador. His father, Serbando, passed away when he was a child, and he was thus taken into the care of his grandfather. He would spend a lot of time at Legazpi’s lavish townhouse, to the point where he kept a lot of his things there. He likely kept them in the storage cabinets in the kitchen area, the ones with the bas-relief of orchids. The owner, Legazpi, had a grandson brought into his care once their father, Serbano, had died. Juan de Salcedo was that grandson, and a brave conquistador. When he was not on his escapades, he would spend time at this lavish townhouse, storing away his treasures, likely in the storage cabinets in the kitchen, the ones with the orchid bas-relief.
¶ One day Salcedo sent his lover, the princess Kandarapa of Tondo, a marvelous miniature carriage of gold, commissioned from the gold he had conquered in his epic quests. He had commissioned it out of the very gold he recovered with his compatriots in his brave conquests. Accompanying was a letter and a bouquet of limestone-white lotus. Legazpi, a hard-nosed racist, refused to let his grandson marry a tribal woman, and once he had found Salcedo's letter, calling his grandfather a "Loku", a derogatory nickname given to Legazpi by Kandarapa, he tore the parchment apart and broke the model into pieces. Upon seeing the model he —would rend it took it apart, and he ripped the letter to shreds. Especially since in the letter he referred to his grandfather as “Loku” - a derogatory nickname the princess had given Legazpi.— The poor princess, receiving no word from her love, died of heartbreak. Soon after, when Salcedo had returned home and learned of what had happened, was struck by that same sorrow. When Salcedo learned of what had transpired, he was struck by grief.
im kind of confused why its never addressed why Salcedo didnt stop him, or why he didn't send another letter, if he was at this house too. maybe specify that Salcedo was away from the house, and sent these gifts and the letter to his grandfather to then send it to the princess. like Legazpi was supposed to be the middleman since Salcedo was off on an adventure. would also explain how legazpi got his hands on it all. also does salcedo die too?
¶ I wonder if excavation could find his tears under the cracks of these bamboo floors. I should try doing that in my subsequent visits.
Pretty huge leap in entries? you wanna talk about that?
Entry 26
¶ The materials for the building of the house came from a quarry in Rizal, measuring 24 feet squared. They had no dynamite at the time, nor drills, so they had to mine with picks, axes, chisels, and levers. With the added threat of water breaching, it was a very deadly business. The more I learn about the materials that went into making this house, the stoneworking, the woodworking… The more I realize the sheer majesty of this building. All the pawis, dugo’t luwa that made what I see before me.
again translate the tagalog
¶ It’s said that Legazpi’s death itself took place in this very house, in the eastmost side of the living room. Legazpi, now a hardened provincial magistrate, sat at the mahogany desk in the main hall. He had finished drafting another letter to his troops to press forward into Luzon, battling the Kapampangan and burning their villages. He called for his aide, and he noticed a strange change in his demeanor. “Well,” he said, “Get on, deliver the message to the Conquistadores camped outside Cainta.” But his manservant stood still, and delivered this reply: “O pamegat senapati di Loku, I entreat you, stop this bloodshed and rule the land in peace!” Legazpi stood positively bewildered, and then his stern composure returned to him. “If this is a message from young Salcedo,” he snarled, “I should like for him to deliver it personally. I shall not suffer messengers - I am the great Legazpi. My name strikes fear in the savage peoples of this country.” Upon his speaking these words the house shook violently 12 times, and up from the heavens came a voice like thunder. “Dost thou thus denigrate my name? Thou art Loku,” it crackled, “And thy name shall indeed be heard across the country, ahd and shall be heard by the Bisayas to the Tausugs - for from every rock and crevice, thou shalt cry out thy name in a form that suits the wretchedness of thy character.” Struck from his trance, the messenger fled the house; but when he turned back, he saw Legazpi no more. The old general had vanished completely, and not even a trace of a body was found.
Entry 28
¶ In the INCURRED piers, arches and pendentives on the third, fifth, seventh, ninth, and 11th floor and squinches When I saw him eating the final Sigimdog he was Powerling I don’t praning. Too many of the master locks are broken for the key to fit anymore. Division between the first and second floors repressed tallows for rising bahaghari sa loob ng ulap. The great deluge seperates the foam from the limewash and obscures the good and covers the world so that the carved flower orgate engravings bloom from the soil and the tears and purify to a consistency that is satisfactory for steady application. BINA in giving up to the lowest cavern in immersed to give built once Spainard in total soliptude. Jacub made in the Image of the MAN MA Medway 21 hatchets entered into the Fabric roll of rough-dressed Basalt.
Entry 33
¶ I was pacing around outside at night, looking at the HOUse. I tried to always find my gaze coming back to the House. The balaysteful architecture keeps ngann interested. And it’s only for a split second, then it’s gone, but I see it. I see it. It’s on the romanesque rafters, softly lit by the moon. It looked like a pangolin. Then it’s gone, and susmariosep, my head is spinning. It all makes sense. This is him, this is Loku. He has come to show me his 100 banal adornments. 100 pillars on the deck. And like the loyal beggar-prince Juan Bachiller, who waits patiently for God to reward him as he toils in destitution, so too will I wait patiently, watch, and listen. For my fortune is of this world. It is not of gold, or of alabaster, but knowledge from which my estate will be fastened. And just like Juan Bachiller, I will find my hidden lover fair.
this section goes hard
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