Midnight Drama: Part One of What Could be A Long Series of Drama

31 October 2010

It is 11:59 as I write this, the walls of my room shake as big-ass trucks pass by, dogs seem to be arguing about something, but the wind is quiet, and still I am lulled by the humming of my electric fan. After watching episode after episode of downloaded sitcoms I went down to the kitchen to make myself a pitcher of orange juice and a scooped a small bowl of peanut butter. Now I am sitting on my bed, hunched low, the only light coming from my laptop screen and I thought I should write something about love. So here I am.

There are no experts in love, the scientists can tell you about neural receptors and chemicals being secreted and bolts in your brain, and they can tell you of your beating heart, of your flushing cheeks, of your stutter as you speak, but they cannot tell you of love, not as you want to hear it. Social scientists go forth and observe your behaviors and the patterns and the similarities and differences between societies and cultures of their perception or expression of love, they give a lot of talk, but none of those are what I want to say. Even the poets and their figures of speech are not much different, they’re just fancy words, fancy phrases for something we all know, but can’t say what.

Love, love, love, we know of love, we know what it is, but we don’t have enough data about it to be able to say something about what it is that will be conclusively accepted as true. Except perhaps that it’s  perplexing.

----

I want to see you. I want to hold you.

I have dreams, dreams where I wrap my arms around you and I shield you from the world. In my arms nothing can harm you, in my arms there is no reason to be scared, in my arms there is nothing but my love. I can promise you my heart, I can promise you my life, I can promise forever if only you ask.

Tell me to come to you, tell me to speak, to shout, to proclaim to the world that I love you. Let me say it, let me say what we both know.

----

It is 2:19 AM, 26 hours and 20 minutes after I begun writing this piece and I am still thinking love. I have considered asking somebody more experienced than me in this field and then was where I hit another brick wall. What exactly constitutes the ‘experiencing’ of love? Does it require a mutual acceptance of a relationship before it falls into the category of ‘true’ love? I only bring that up of course because it was the main argument of this girl I knew in high school as to why what I was feeling for her cannot be in anyway ‘love’. Is an individual’s consciousness that a set of emotions and reactions to stimuli fall into a set and culturally accepted pattern constitute as ‘experiencing’ love, hence the phrase ‘falling in love’?

For several days now I’ve been immersing myself in different possible sources of information. Among them are love poems (notably, Chingbee Cruz has wonderful love poems, though again I cannot possibly know how the category ‘love poem’ was ever formulated without a clear enough definition of love), Hugh Grant movies, romantic songs (ignoring the fact that I might come off as spambot now, I would like to commend Ang Bandang Shirley for their album ‘Theme songs’), romantic comedy sitcoms, and even the holy books of different religions. Still I’ve got nothing.

----

I watch my cigarette burn. Holding it between two fingers I bring it closer and closer to my face. I see the ember as it consumes another bit of white paper and turns it into gray ash. The orange burns brightly within the black of the burnt tobacco, and right then I wanted to kill the embers on my chest. Burn my skin with this cigarette, right where my heart beats. It shouts, my heart does, it is cold and weak. I shall bring it warmth. I shall bury this cigarette through my flesh and bone to pierce my heart.

Your picture is pinned on a corkboard on my wall. Too small for me to frame it, too valuable for me to keep it in my wallet, too beautiful is the face on it for me to be able to cease thinking of it. I cannot hide it, I cannot throw it away, your smile immortalized in celluloid has been marked into my brain, etched with the embers of a cigarette.

I watch my cigarette until it burns nearer and nearer my skin. I swore to myself never to let it go, no matter the pain of the heat, no matter what stinging burn, I shall hold it until it dies between my fingers. Only then shall I let it go.

----

Jesus Christ, it’s now 3 AM and I’m writing vaguely about unrequited love, how much more pathetic can I be?

FML.

Your Mom is Looking for Comic Book Artists!

04 October 2010

YOUR MOM'S KOMIKS is a newly established group of young new Komiks writers looking for artists to collaborate with in a number of projects we have in line.

Munting samahan lang naman ng mga komikerong naghahanap din ng komikero na gusto gumawa kasama namin. Madaming titles na nakapila, may mga writer kasi kaming walang kakayahan i-drowing ang sarili nilang mga kwento kaya naghahanap kami ng mga gustong sumali sa amin!

Kung mahilig ka sa komiks, marunong ka magdrowing ng komiks, nakakaintindi ka ng comic script aba kontakin mo kaagad ako! Kelangan kita!

Plano naming matapos ang aming mga proyekto at mailabas ang unang anthology sa Summer Komikon sa Mayo.

Kontakin mo ako!

E-mail : estongdakila@live.com

Kung may kilala kang tingin mo gusto din gumawa ng komiks pakilala mo sa akin! Salamat!

Don't Eat That

23 August 2010

(This is the first draft of an essay I wrote for my Food Writing Class, my interest in non-genre writing has produced this, a Food Memoir on my experiences with non-food.)

Don’t Eat That

The essential feature of Pica is the eating of one or more nonnutritive substances on a persistent basis for a period. of at least 1 month. The typical substances ingested tend to vary with age. Infants and younger children typically eat paint, pIaster, string, hair, or cloth. Older children may eat animal droppings, sand, insects, leaves, or pebbles. Adolescents and adults may consume clay or soil. There is no aversion to food. (American Psychiatric Association 103)

 My name is Ernie, I have an eating disorder.

You’d be surprised at the things they have support groups of, even this thing I do, others like me all over the world are sharing their experiences on eating the non-nutritive. I’d join these support groups, but that would mean I WANT to get rid of my Pica, or that I see it as a problem. I don’t believe eating paper, wood, tiny rocks, plastic, dirt (not soil, that’s disgusting), hair, pus, that sticky stuff that gets left behind when you peel off sticky tape, rubber, and I’m getting a bit carried away, is all that bad. I do recognize that it’s not exactly health food, but if you ignore the fact that these things aren’t really food, these are actually Vegan!

It started as a kid, as it usually does, when I would press my finger between those cracks in the walls and floor of our old home and nibble on the tiny concrete crumbs that stick to my fingertips, crunchy. I’d gnaw on the feet and hands of my sister’s Barbies, leaving them looking like victims of a zombie attack. I actually believed it was cool to be eating paper, little did I know that my so ‘friends’ back in grade school we’re charging people to see me eat an entire sheet of paper. It took me sometime to realize that it was socially unacceptable to eat these things, not that I cared.

I have been queried lots of times about what paper (the most common of my non-nutritive snacks) tastes like, and my answer has always been ‘it depends’. See, paper is like any other food, it varies. Table napkins have no taste, but some types do have that powdery feel on your tongue and as if you can smell baby powder from inside your mouth. Typical white paper has no taste too, but they stick to the top of your mouth and roll into balls real quick, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing because they get chewy. This happens to most paper but much more often to white paper for some reason. Mimeograph paper is tougher to chew but has a peculiar bitter taste, newsprint is bittersweet, and if I consciously avoid eating yellow paper because it tastes like ink. The best paper, and I’m not just saying this to gross you out, is a bus ticket, those punched bus tickets, that you have kept in you jeans pocket for at least a day, a nice mix of salt and bitterness. The worst is ATM receipts, has some sort of plastic film that makes it gummy and too bitter it actually feels like poison.

I’ve never been properly diagnosed, the closest thing to an actual diagnosis was when I confessed to my Professor in Abnormal Psychology that I think I have Pica, and that I consciously partake in non-nutritive snacking (she didn’t act shocked then but I found out that she started telling my story to her other classes). But in my totally biased views of the DSM-IV-TR criterion (105) I fit four of the four conditions for Pica. Pica is commonly diagnosed to children, there are very few adult, or even adolescent, cases of it. I’m one of them. It’s hard to say how you get Pica, it is mostly related to Mental retardation but I wouldn’t believe myself retarded. I mean, how would’ve I gotten to this premiere university? There are no specific biological patterns among us who have it, but in some instances zinc deficiency is observed, not that I know what that would mean.

I don’t know about other people with my condition but aside from paper, I’m not meticulous how these things taste. The closest thing to paying attention when I eat them is the particular sensations in the mouth I get. The brittle crunch of tiny rocks, the satisfaction of flattening bits of plastic pen caps with my teeth, the feel of balling up thread with your tongue, and sometimes it even goes less that the sensations, just the wanting, like I’ve been eyeing this line of ants on the wall by my desk, crushing them against the wall then eating those that get stuck on my finger.

Other things normal people wouldn’t think of eating; plastic bags, when you chew on a plastic grocery bag (or even those types you get from the market) long enough you get a white string like jumble of plastic, it doesn’t matter what color it was in the first place, it turns white. Nails, I also bite my nails, even my nail clippings I pick off and eat, snapping satisfyingly as I clench on them with my molars, the nails clippings from the smallest toe is always softer than any other nail, for some reason they don’t snap too, they fold. Those price label stickers commonly found on notebooks and other stuff you buy at stationary stores, double the satisfaction of peeling the damn things of in one piece and folding them so the sticky part stays in and doesn’t touch the inside of my mouth.

I’ve gotten all sorts or reactions too, from the expected disgust to amazement to mockery (the ‘yeah right, of course you do’), admittedly I sometimes do it to see the reactions I cause. Like a Filipino would describe balut to a foreigner to see him grossed out and then insist “No, no, it’s good food! Helps with the arthritis!” half laughing.

I do get concerned about how this affects my health, I’ve done research (watched TV shows and searched the internet) about bezoars, and how they form inside your stomach because of stuff you couldn’t digest. I read about lead poisoning, and wood splinters getting stuck in my throat, but the threat is as big as the threat of fish bones getting stuck in my throat so nothing to worry about, I’m fine. Come to think of it, how different am I from people who eat copious amounts of cholesterol laden food or rare meat or carcinogenic barbecue? How different is wood, rubber and plastic from the hamburgers you get from McDonald’s, the processed foods they sell on the streets and the junk they sell at Pre-school cafeterias?

Sure, I worship bacon like any other guy, I enjoy a good burger and French fries combo, I don’t know what the deal is with blue cheese, it just so happens I have other stuff on my palette too. Who gets to declare what is food anyway?

 

Works Cited:

American Psychiatric Association. Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. Fourth ed. Text Revision. Washington DC: American Psychiatric Association, 2000. Print

Textual Photography

11 August 2010

(Around a month or two ago I was introduced to Michael David Murphy's unphotographable.com and his concept of photography using words. I tried it out on my own, and it's pretty cool and useful as an exercise especially for describing settings in fiction and non-fiction and in detailing panels to an artist in comic book writing, here are some of what I came up with.)

This is a picture I did not take of a girl walking in the middle of the street as a light drizzle falls from the night sky. The curving street was lined and illuminated by deep yellow light from street lamp after street lamp. Her face glows at is passes the each lamp post, her hair sways with the falling leaves, and perhaps in recognition of the humming music of wind and drizzle to the asphalt, she twirls at the balls of her feet.

This is a picture I did not take of a boy checking his cellphone with his back turned to the bulletin board of Palma Hall Lobby at the University of the Philippines. His yellow shirt drooping over his shoulders and his jeans spilling on his white sneakers, his backpack hanging heavily on one shoulder, his glasses reflect the flourescent bulbs of the Palma Hall Lobby, masking his eyes. Behind him is a recruitment poster of some student org, featuring lovers holding hands.

This is a picture I did not take of a cockroach inside my black canvas school bag. Which I found on my yellow notebook as I pulled it out before my Creative Writing class starts. Smaller than the average roach and not the usual brown color, it's abdomen was striped black and white. It's head tilted towards me as I stared back at it, not with disgust, not with surprise, not with fear, but a mutual amazement.

You Were Crying

07 August 2010

I had a dream sometime back, I don't remember much of it now.

Just the bits, Just some pieces.

It was a vacation outing of sorts in a place that looked very much like the one they went to at that teen movie, TRIP, I think it's called. It was the gang, the usual bunch, there we're many of us.

You were crying, sitting in some deck of sorts, with wooden planks for a floor. You were scared, I think, or maybe your mom called and told you bad news, I can't remember.

I promised you I'll be there, I said I always have been, I asked you to let me hold you forever.

You and me became us, we were happy, you smiled at me over your shoulder as you led me to the pier to watch the sunset. I tied balloons to cat tails so you can pop them with your blow gun as the cats chased mechanical rats. I arranged your closet for you, you fixed my apartment door.

I was holding you in my arms as we sit at the Sunken Garden in my dreams when I awoke, My laptop left open in front of me.

I had a dream sometime back, and some more before that.

I had a dream some time back, I still do.

Like, UP PsycA. Masaya!

22 June 2010

UP Psychological Association is Recruiting nanaman!

This like so my opportunity na to be part of their super cool and astig org!

They're so masaya, and parang makulit and all that and I'm gonna sms super cutie Andrew so I'll sign up to their parang application process that I heard was like wala lang, super dali. Unlike those evil evil hitler-esque app process from other orgs, like jeez.

So sign up na rin you guys! It's funner if we're many-er!

Andrew (cutie!): 09062419814

Boppers (super nice!):09176116399

Sa wakas, Ang Kalahati ng Dahilan kung bakit ako Kumuha ng Hapon10 nuong first year

23 April 2010

Sa mga hindi nakakaalam, dalawa ang dahilan ko kung bakit ako kumuha ng Hapon 10 nuong unang taon ko sa Kolehiyo.
Una ay ang malaman ang ibic sabihin nuong CC> (basta mukhang ganyang yung characters)
sa ending ng Mask Rider Black.
Ikalawa ay ang malaman ang ibig sabihin ng "buyase" sa opening theme ng Daimos.
Ang nasagot lang sa mga tanong ko e yung una. Kasamaang palad hindi alam ng prof ko yung "buyase"
Yuon naman pala ay "moyase" ang tamang lyrics, hayup naman kasi yung pronounciation nuon.
May internet nga pala. Nahanap ko na ang complete translation ng Opening theme ng Daimos!

TATE! TOUSHOU DAIMOSU
(Arise! The King of Combat Daimos!)

Burn Burn Burn red-hot

Fan the flames of your raging heart

Beat them Beat them

Till the limits of your strength

Show them your karate

Shining gold

A gleaming giant drenched in the sun

The eyes gaze at the future

Praying for peace at last

They're calling

They're calling

Daimos Daimos Battle king Daimos

Everyone is calling you

Get near Get near Get right near them

There isn't time to dally

Shake Shake Shake the earth

Show them your strength

A fiery-colored sun

A sun-tinged steel giant

The knife hand shines

Brave the coming storms

They're calling
They're calling
Daimos Daimos Battle king Daimos
Everyone on earth's calling you

Do not weep Do not weep

You're a man Do not weep

In battle there's no need for tears

Defend Defend Till the limits of life defend

Show them your courage

A ??-colored sunset

A sun-tinged giant at rest

Possessing fighting spirit in the heart

Aiming for peace at last

They're calling

They're calling

Daimos Daimos Battle king Daimos

All friends of earth's calling you

Yay internets!

http://virtual-rotation.com/chirlind/others/sentai/daimos.html#tate

May alam ka ba?

18 March 2010

The Continuity of Self-Hate in the War Against the Truth That is Time

08 February 2010

I have prided myself in being above mediocrity, on being more than the average man. I am ashamed to admit that all this time I have been wrong. But I will admit, I have been wrong, I am no more than a man. Whatever the definition of which it entails, that I am, a man and no more.

I would like to believe in a One True Way, a destiny, a predetermined future that speaks of me being born to be more than what I have always been. I would like to believe in fate. I would like to believe that there is something out there in the path time takes to the end of it all that says one day I will be great. But I know there is none, I know now that there is no one true way. That I am a man molded by the choices I make and the events this brings.

For as long as I could remember I have been obsessed with the past and the future. Wishing there was a way I could travel back with the wisdom I have now and change things, make things better than they are. Hoping that eventually something will happen that will lead me to a destiny I have so long wished for me to have.  I am constantly at war with the truth that is time, and that there is nothing I can do about anything in it other than what is in the present.

I have come to understand that my wishing and hoping have all been wrong. Understand, but not accept.

I know this, I accept that the fact that I cannot accept that fact is a weakness. I am afraid of the future, and as the mistakes I have made pile up I cannot stop myself from dwelling In the seas my incapability to take charge of my own life has created. I am drowning, and as I consume more and more of these errors I realize all of this is just too much for me, and I will die in my sins to myself and to the world around me. To the people I love, and how I have begun to hate people I love simply for being right about me, for stabbing me with knives and spears in my face. There is simply too much of it for me to start over.

--------

But then, I do not have to start over.

I have taken the step to realize I am drowning, I have awoken to see my world flooded by these blunders of my own making. I have accepted that there is no way for me to parch these waters, and what I have to do is to learn how to swim.

-------

I am humbled by my own words, I recall once saying to a friend; “We can never start over, we can only continue from where we are.” How arrogant of me to have said words I have been blind to follow. Time and time again reminds me of how my past has molded me to be what I am. Weak, irresponsible, arrogant, fool-hardy, timid, indolent, these are adjectives that have chosen me as host. I have lived a life to deserve the flaws of my nature, and not the splendor that I could be.

There, I said it, there is nothing I must be. There is nothing I should be. There is nothing I need to be. There are only the things I can be. Somewhere between my clouded reverie and lurid lucidity I know, There are things to be done, and everything now lies as to if I will.

I can never really know unless I try I guess.

Reminiscing ACLEs

27 January 2010

Of my UP life, 8 ACLEs have come and 7 of them have passed, the latest one is this year and I'm happy to somehow be a part of UP PsycA's ACLEs this year even if I'm not on campus (though being part merely means I came up with the title and made some posters) I like ACLEs in general and this is just to remember those that passed.

During my First year I never attended ACLEs, to me they we're just an excuse to go home early. I was never required to attend any nor did I go to any extent of actually wanting to attend any, ACLE topics from organizations bore me, they we're repetitive and unimaginative. Photography crash courses and stuff about comic books are the only things that caught my eye on the bulletin boards, so no, I did not like ACLEs back then.

During my second year I was already part of UP PsycA when the ACLEs started, UP PsycA's ACLE during the first sem was a team up with UP Kustura, an org of people from Marikina. We didn't attend that, we went up to Vinson's to attend an ACLE with Papa Dom about Reggae music and the Rastafarian ideology. In hindsight, I did ask a lot of stupid questions that day, but I did get a picture with Papa Dom and got his autograph.

The Second sem Ate Meme was bugging us about what to present, I had recently watched the film Umaaraw, Umuulan starring Ryan Agoncillo and suggested we show that to people. It was typically uneventful, we had a few people in and it was merely an excuse for me and Jammin to get to smoke in the fourth floor classroom we reserved for the event. Ate Meme gave a little talk about Schizophrenia as well, which she did real well as it apparently was her report for her Psych 155 class.

When we took over PsycA during our third year we wanted our ACLE to be a something people would actually WANT to go to, not have to. I can't remember who actually came up with the idea (I'd like to say it was me, but I'm not sure) that we make a film about Zorro, the costumed mascot of the Academic Oval. It was originally a film, that boiled down to a documentary (or a lousy excuse for one) about Dennis Magtajas, the guy behind the mask. So that's what we called it, "Sa Likod ng Maskara: Ang Stigma ni Zorro". I starred in that docu and did voice acting for that as well, I interviewed Zorro and his father and we built a pretty good picture of who the guy is. This is when we started the lucky streak of speakers, Prof. Rosel from the Psych Department who teaches Abnormal Psychology was a great speaker and did more than we expected from her, which is saying something. We expected a lot from her, she delivered and we we're in awe. The room was filled to doors, and it was a booming success. We knew by then that when we're gonna do events, we can't just pull something off, we have to raise the bar.

The next one we did was something about food, apparently Ging wanted something that had something to do with food. The original professor we wanted to invite was to be invited if only to discuss the "tingi mentality" of Filipinos when it comes to food, he declined the invitation and suggested we ask Prof. Cosare instead. If anybody was an expert at Food Psychology it was him, he knew it, he may be the only one who knew it in the country or even the region. He was more prepared than we we're! We pestered a few people to attend it and we got to fill the room with people, who happily taste tested everything the professor brought (he had wine, and we we're warm all day because of it) and the free isaw we gave away at the end. Again, we raised the bar, apparently Prof. Cosare became popular because of this and was invited to two other ACLEs, one for last sem and another one for this semester.

The Last one was something that you would've expected from a Psychological organization. It was about reading minds "We Can Read Your Mind" as we called it, and we invited a former private investigator (a professor of Rose and a classmate of Mhe-Ann) from BA. Sorry to say I forgot his name, he is a young professor who knew what he was talking about. We also invited Prof. Ed Decenteceo from the Psych Department as a reactor to the event, he was wonderful and provided an opening for this year's ACLE about paranormal psychology. Sir Ed talked about how behavior and body language affects us, how he applies it in acting, in his counseling, in teaching, and a crash course on "Heart Chakras" and the spiritual things like that. I put great publicity as number one reason we filled the Big AS room (96 people! we had to borrow chairs from adjoining rooms and STILL have people standing) Tinek did a wonderful job with the pubmats and I think the success of our previous ACLEs proved fruitful as I saw familiar faces from our previous ACLE joining us that day. As usual, hosting duties fell on me despite me being out of school that semester, during the technical difficulties part in the start I would like to believe the little research I did on Evolutionary Psychology and how our evolution has affected our body language did well in burning up time for the audience. We also showed an episode from the TV series "Lie to Me" about micro expressions. All in all it was the best we ever pulled off and we have been raising the bar of ACLEs ever since we took over. ACLEs now are getting more and more interesting and I hope I'm not being rude by assuming it was because UP PsycA has sworn never to do anything mediocre when it comes to ACLE. We wanted to do something nobody else has ever done, and people who we don't even know go to our ACLEs to actually learn, and that is the idea behind ACLEs anyway. We don't bring in big and popular names or pop topics, we choose topics we like and we know people should learn about.

I hope I'm not jinxing UP PsycA's good ACLE record with this but the latest one, about Parapsychology is proving to be something to be proud of as well, we cut it close this time but I guess we're pulling it off real good as usual. So reader, you heard it from me, UP PsycA raised the bar when it comes to ACLE, and we're not done yet.

Have You Ever Wondered What Could be Beyond Our Senses?

UP PsycA 
presents
Beyond Senses : Understanding Parapsychology

An Alternative Learning Classroom Experience (ACLE)

With a demonstration with Fr. Jaime Bulatao, Ph.D. (an Expert in Parapsychology)

Reactors:
Prof. Aurora Mendoza, Ph.D.
Prof. Edwin Decenteceo, Ph.D.

See you at PHAn Lobby
1-4 PM January 28, 2010

Drunken Miss

27 November 2009

Stuff I Did Wrong, reason as to why I was unable to do a proper commute and had a few buddies worried.

-I didn't count my beers. I could've gone eight to ten beers if only I was in condition and I followed my drinking rules, but it was a fun night, so I said screw the rules.

-Drank non-beer alcoholic, again screwing up my limit monitoring.

-Tried to battle my enemy, rhum, and it proved that even if it gave me the handicap of being mixed with cola I still lose. One day Rhum, we will fight, and I will have my revenge, you have hit me the wrong way so many times and all my attempts to finally have a session with your presence and get home alright. I did way better than I did before because I didn't vomit or forget what has happened. But I still needed a moment to collect myself, had to be helped a bit, drink something caffeinated, and tried to do a sobriety test on myself. By the way, while collecting myself I do hear and understand you guys, so thank you for worrying. The vomit on the table shocked me like shit, guess someone was worse than me.

-Didn't eat. Dinner was a few Nachos and a small bite from Joy's  Chicken Alfredo.

-Forgot I had women with me, I should have known better. Sorry for being sexist but I wasn't raised to not make sure everyone is safe being the biggest guy around.

-assumed I'd get a ride to Cubao, dammit, Jammin had to have a Jiro Problem, really bad luck for me. Anyway we'd need to do this again with Jammin, and in better states.

-smoked filterless, though this doesn't involve the alcohol, what the fuck was I thinking? That was stupid but, well, funny.

-had evil, evil, thoughts.

So conclusion? We have to do that again.

I'm no Genius, I'm no Activist, but I'm Not Enough of an Idiot to Not Say Something.

18 November 2009

Do you know these names? Noynoy Aquino? Of course, how abot Kris Aquino? Hell yeah, the Cojuangcos? It seems stupid to ask. How about these names: Jun David? No? Boy Verzola? Never heard? Neng Manalo? Random people you say? Nah, These are just the names of some of the farmers killed at the Hacienda Luisita Massacre. Yeah, doesn't really matter, does it? They don't affect your lives, they do their farming, they fertilize land with blood, the Cojuangcos live their nice and easy lives and you don't give a shit.

It's funny how easy we judge the villains in soap operas when we can't see the bad guys in real life.

Sure, Noynoy may not have ordered that massacre. Yeah, I AM judging him by his genetics. I want to know something from this Presidential Candidate, WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO ABOUT IT? Prove to me that you won't let your family influence you, prove to me what you can do for the farmers, point the finger on who actually is responsible for those deaths and that injustice and actually do something about it. All you did so far was blab on the newspapers that you want the Hacienda Luisita Lands to be given to them farmers, do something about it motherfucker.

Right now, it aint your fault. You let this slide and it will be.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

A few months ago, actually maybe even less than that, Legarda was accusing Villar of corruption on the C-5 road project. I definitely think that Legarda was just doing that to catch attention because her "climate change lady" image just isn't selling (if you don't remember, I don't blame you, she also used to be "poverty lady" and "social injustice lady"). That didn't work out quite well for her as well since she ended up sounding like Jamby Madrigal, and who the fuck would want to sound like a cam-whore? So scrap that, she goes into the "I-don't-want-to-talk-about-politics-I-want-to-focus-on-climate-change" mode, (she actually said those words) WHILE everybody is talking about Presidential aspirations, oh c'mon. That sounds so Presidentiable, I hate you Legarda.

And now, she's running with Villar as his Vice-Presidential candidate. Not that it was surprising, it was funny and annoying as hell. Now who  the fuck is telling the truth the whole time? We all know that Manny Villar went corrupt in that project, I just want somebody punished for corruption once in a while in this country. C'mon! The question I want to ask and I want to hear a goddamn straight answer from both of them WHO THE FUCK WAS TELLING THE TRUTH? Because if Villar was teling the truth that he didn't go corrupt on that project then Legarda was making baseless accusations and she's a liar who just wants some attention at the expense of a fellow senator.if LEGARDA was telling the truth then what the hell is Villar doing running for president? You want to give him MORE power?

I like Villar for pete's sake, he was the original rags to bureaucrat capitalist story. I just don't want him running the country, I'm fucking scared.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

What the fuck can I say about Bayani Fernando that hasn't been said already? He can't even fix Marikina, you expect him to fix a country? He think trees are like street lights you can pull out and replant. God bless the Ateneans wanting to pull up a "we love the environment" image for not letting Bayani Pull out the trees at Katipunan. He's a wonderful engineer, sure, he has great ideas sometimes but he can't solve all the problems, he can solve very specific type of problems that cover his field of knowledge. He isn't stupid, he's fucking ignorant of all the other things. He thinks the reason his methodologies aren't working is because we don't know how to follow the rules, Motherfucking idiot, does he even drive around Metro Manila? I want him to drive around Metro Manila every god condemned day of his life to see what kind of messed up things he comes up with and how it messes up everything else.

By the way, Pink and Blue is just a fucking ugly color for the streets, mix it with all that black from soot and its disgustingly ugly. Paint it silver or something, paint it Yellow, Paint it beige, blend to the street colors, just don't paint it fucking ugly blue and pink you idiot.

-------------------------------------------------

I don't blame many people for liking Chiz Escudero, the guy is charismatic, he talks the talk, he talks quite a lot actually, and he actually thinks he's the Obama here, he's a fucking corrupt idiot.

I grew up surrounded by Sorsogon Politics, I know what Chiz has been doing all the time he was Representative of Sorsogon, effin' nothin'. He was too busy being a noisy young congressman from Bicol during the impeachment trials. He was busy being the so-called good-looking senator. He was too busy sounding smart and pretending to be smart to actually be smart. He's an overrated, overexposed motherfucker who talks too much.

YOUNG PEOPLE! Knock-knock! Chiz Escudero cannot save your country, he is another Feudal raised, corrupt son of a bitch. It just disgusts me that they even let him speak, everything he says is so written down on a piece of paper and memorized before he actually says it on cam. Geez, how I wish I could talk about everything he's been doing and the stuff he's been saying, and all that stuff but I promised my family I wouldn't. So I'll just say shut up Chiz.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

When I told my mom that Erap is running for President I did it via Yahoo! Messenger since she's out of the country, all she could reply was "OMG."

Geez, constitutional loopholes! We are going to allow somebody who is actually guilty of corruption to run for President? A womanizer, prolific gambler, corrupt motherfucker? Are we that stupid? Do we have absolutely no respect for our constitution or ourselves? THE GUY WAS CONVICTED GUILTY. G-U-I-L-T-Y. He is out on PARDON. PRESIDENTIAL PARDON. The guy's a convict for taking money of the taxes WE paid that could've been used to feed our families. The guy's convicted for protecting illegal gambling activity in the country, what the fuck else do you want to hear?

PLEASE! Joseph Estrada can't even respect  a little deal he signed for his pardon. "NO RUNNING FOR PUBLIC OFFICE" or even "THOU SHALL NOT COMMIT ADULTERY", how the hell do you expect him to follow law like "Don't steal from your country ass-hole"?

----------------------------------------------------------------

This is going to be one really retarded elections. With all this stupidity I would make you want to NOT vote. But fuckers that's the only thing we have to do in this Democracy. I fucking hope we choose the right one.

Para sa mga Kaibigan kong Graduating

06 November 2009

Mahusay, magaling, graduating na kayo, you made it this far, you deserve applause, give it yourselves. Mahirap ang pinagdaanan n'yo, nagawa n'yong lagpasan ang mga hirap na yun dahil talaga namang binuhusan nyo ng timba-timbang pagod, balde-baldeng puyat, sangkatutak na pagtitiis ang lahat. Magaling, mauuna na ako sa mga babati sa inyo sa Marso, congratulations.

Ang aga mo naman bumati Ernie, sasabihin n'yo, maaga ako bumati kasi alam ko namang matatapos nyo itong dadaan na semestre, at matatapos nyo ng may lupit na humahagupit. Makukuha nyo yung bwakanang inang passport nyo sa mata ng mga recruitment officer ng iba't ibang kumpanya, UP Diploma. Alam ko, kahit hindi nyo man makumpleto lahat ng subject nyo itong semestreng to, kahit na may maiwan ka pa para sa susunod na sem o sa summer, matatapos mo din yan at medyo mas maaga lang ng kaunti para sa iyo ang pabati ko. Pero ikaw naman, ano ba namang depirensya nun? Gumradweyt ka, medyo nagkaaberya lang, naubusan ka lang siguro ng gasolina sa daan, naflatan ng gulong, o baka nasira stereo mo pero darating ka rin dun. Makakarating ka rin dun.

Natutuwa ako para sa inyo dahil itong semestreng paghihirapan nyo, bawat minutong pinuyat mo sa sem na to, isipin mo, konti na lang. Bawat salitang tinatayp mo para sa mga paper mo, isipin mo, konti na lang. Bawat paglabas mo ng school para magfieldwork, pag hahalungkat sa library, paghahanap ng sasagot sa survey, pakikipag diskusyon sa prof, pagdadala ng mabibigat na text book, pagkokompyut ng problem na dapat nang idemanda sa sobrang hindi makatarungan, tandaan mo, konti na lang. Konting-konti na lang, kayang-kaya nyo na yan.

Hindi mo alam sinasabi mo Ernie, siguro nga, sinukuan ko yan e. Pero natutuwa ako para sa inyo. Patunay ko sa sarili ko na hindi peer pressure ang dahilan kaya ako nagloko, ang sisipag nyo e. Whoops, walang kokontra, masipag kayo. Wag mo sabihin sa aking nag-slack off ka last sem kasi may mga gabing kinumpleto mo tulog mo. Walangya ka, maawa ka sa sarili mo, kinailangan mo naman yun. Kung kinulang kayo sa sinakripisyo, hindi na yun kakulangan bilang mag-aaral, ang dami nyo na ngang kinakalimutang basic necessities, pumapasok na nga kayo ng eskwela ng hindi naliligo. Nalilimutan na nga ng katawan nyong magutom kasi masyado na itong abala mapagod. Appreciate nyo yung pinaghirapan nyo, andito na kayo, ayan na, dulo na to, game na.

Hahaha, siguro nga gusto ko lang mauna bumati ng congratulations, pero tingin ko naman hindi naman ito sobrang agang pabati. Tama lang naman, hindi ko naman kayo kinokongratulate dahil makakakuha na kayo ng degree at diploma e. Binabati ko kayo kasi napaghirapan nyo na yung degree na yan, naalayan nyo na ng dugo, pawis, luha, laway, sipon, tinga, tutule, nana, libag, kalyo, patay na kuko, eyebag, hairfall, wrinkles, at taghiyawat yang degree na yan. Okay na, solb na, konti na lang para marealize na din ng eskwelahan na okay ka na nga. Sige na, aral na kayo.

Di n'yo na kelangan ng goodluck, kaya nyo na naman yan e. Apir.

The Drifting Away/Brotherhood/Half the Pun

26 August 2009

The drifting away of a friend is a sad thing.

I don't know what happened, it seemed we jsut led two live too different. Sad as the truth is it shall be this truth that is the truth for this point of view, this point of view is to the passt, and nothing can change the past, it is what it is. A very peculiar history we had, a past for the history books.

It is also true that we had become friends, he became a guy I shared cigarettes and stories with, we had our laughs and out truths and he was a friend in a category no friend of mine has ever fallen into, but he was real, he was there, like a brother I was supposed to have in the first place.

He had his girl, I had my confused little ramblings about every girl that exists, we shared those stories. Perhaps much more to my expense than his, but I didn't care, we are friends, friends don't care about that shit. I even appreciated that his girl considers me some sort of expert in her boyfriend's personality, truth is I know him just as much as a man can tell why another man is acting like he is, we both had a chromosome that women didn't, that's it. We knew only what we wanted the other to know, perhaps he knew more about than I did about him simply because of how much he is aware of what he reveals of himself, but I was fine with that, that was more than enough to be a friend.

(Who drifted? Was it I? Because a drifting did happen, perhaps I was drowned by the sudden surge of new people that I learned to share similar things we shared, perhaps overwhelmed by the fact that it wasn't just our little gang of fools, but a bigger gang of fools. Perhaps I have become part of the whirpool while he had clung to a piece of driftwood, maybe I just didn't notice, and he just didn't want to make me notice.)

Now I know, now I know what I don't know, who I don't know, I don't know him, my friend and brother, I never did. He had always led alife different from mine and now we had took paths too skewed from the others. maybe our friendship was just a crossroad, a joining path, only to split again. We may not always be friends, but since the day brotherhood has begun, he will always be the brother that I do not share blood with.

O' Gabi

03 August 2009

O Gabi, ikaw na s'yang kumot ng dilim,

Yakap ng lamig,

at balot ng tahimik.

Itago mo ako

Sa iyong mga bisig,

Yakapin sa iyong dib-dib

Nang ako'y hindi na matakot.

O Gabi, ang puso ko'y humihiram,

Sa kapa mong itim

ng kaunting pagtago

Sa puso kong duwag

na may matapang na pag-ibig.

O Gabi, lunurin mo siya

Sa apoy ng aking payapa

at di mapaslang na pagkahimbing

sa kanyang ganda.

Na umaagaw ng liwanag sa iyong mga tala.

O Gabi, ikaw na sumumpa

Sa kaluluwa kong hilaw

Na mapain sa karagatan

ng mabangis na pag-ibig

Gabi-gabi'y nabibingwit,

at sa iyong pamamahinga,

muling pinawawalan,

para lamang madagit ulit,

sa iyong pagbabalik.

O Gabi, sakit man ito o lunas

pangako ko sa iyong iiwan,

Hindi hihimbing akong iyong isinilang

Hangga't ikaw ang Dumadatu sa Kalangitan.

Kababata

08 June 2009

Hindi na ikaw ang kilala ng ako na hindi na ako.

Sa musmos nating mga isipan naglalakbay

Ang mga anino ng mga tayo na tayo na ngayon.

Patunay lamang ang kakayahan kong sabihing

Minsan tayo'y naging mga muyit na walang muwang

Sa katotohanang hindi na ako at hindi na ikaw

Ang nakalarawan sa guhit ng lahat ng nakaraan na.

 

Sa panghuhuli ng tutubi at pagpapalipad ng saranggola

Minsa'y nakilala din ng lupa ang pakiramdam

Ng init ng ating mga hubad na talampakan.

Madaming araw na din ang namatay

Mula nuong huling nakisayaw ang mga puno

Sa awitin nating mga batang naghahalakhakan.

 

Hindi na alam ng mga bituin kung alin sa milyong mga matang

Nakatulala sa hiwaga nila ang sa atin.

Hindi na napapansin ng mga mikrobyo ang mga sugat

Lalo't hindi na dala ng pagkakapatid sa konkretong palaruan.

Hindi na kita kilala at hindi na tayo kilala ng ating mundo

Dahil ikaw at ako na lang ang may alam

Nang kung sino tayo noon.

Hanapan Batman

17 May 2009

(ginawa ko ito para sa Arkiyoloji 1, Salamat sa insipirasyon at kaalaman Prof. Paz)

 

Dahil nasa Quezon City Tayo: Ang Huling Icon

Nagpunta ako ng National Museum, nag-ikot ikot at naghanap ng kainspire-inspire na mga bagay. Syanga at napakaraming nakamamangha, nakaliligalig at ‘di kapanipaniwalang bagay sa loob ng museo, ngunit sa kasamaang palad wala sa milyun-milyong ideyang nabuo ko sa aking pag-iikot iikot ang aking huling sanaysay, ito’y isang huling pagtatangka na sa wakas makuha na ang pag gamit ng mga material na bagay bilang icon, yun lang naman siguro ang epekto ng pagsesenti kong ginawa habang nag-iisang nakatanga sa Luneta.

Ano ang bente? Sa Pilipinong konteksto, ito ay katumbas ng dalawampu, pero kadalasan ay ginagamit ang salitang ‘bente’ para tumukoy sa halagang dalawampung piso, sa bente pesos, sa papel na kahel na may mukha ni Manuel.  Ang perang ito ang pinakamaliit na na halagang pera na nasa papel pa, iyan ay kung di mo na binibilang yung mangilan-ngilang sampung pisong papel na nag-eexist pa. Hindi na siguro nalalayo ang panahon na pagkakasyahin na din ang mukha ni Manuel Quezon sa barya, magiging sideview pa, at mawawalan na ng basehan ang darating na kabataan sa kung ano ba ang itsura ng tinitirahan ng president nila. Sabi ay sinasabay lang naman ang pera sa buying power nito, aba, malakas pa ang buying power ng bente, sa tingin ko hangga’t sapat ka pa para pambili ng pananghalian ay ‘di ka pa pwede maging barya.

Bakit nga ba may mukha ang mga pera? Tulad din ba ito ng ginagawa ng mga illustrado na marka nila ng antas nila sa lipunan kaya naipapapinta na ang sarili? Oo at hindi, oo dahil tulad ng mga ilustrado mga matataas ang antas nila sa lipunan natin, politikal man o moral o, huwad man o tunay. Hindi dahil hindi naman nila pinili ipapinta ang sarili sa pera, bukod sa kaso ng dalawangdaang piso ang nag-iisang pera sa Pilipinas na nakapinta dun ang kasalukuyang presidente, ‘yun, malamang vanity nga ‘yun. Pininta sila dun, ginawa silang mascot ng pera dahil tingin ng lipunan (o ng Bangko Sentral) na importante sila, ilagay sa pedestal, importante ka, ilagay ka sa pera.

Sino ba talaga ang namimili kung sino ang importante? Lipunan ba? Ang mamamayan ba? Importante daw na matuto ang mga kabataan ng Ingles, importante nga ba? Siguro dahil ang natitira na lang na trabaho sa Pilipinas ay call center agent at pagiging OFW (na hindi naman pala trabaho sa Pilipinas) kaya importante, pero dahil kulang-kulang sa kalahati ng populasyon sa Pilipinas ay agrikultural pa rin ang pamumuhay, iniinglis mo pa ba talaga ang tindero ng abono? Sa mata siguro ng madaming Pilipino na wala sa Metro Manila ay hindi na nila kailangan ng Ingles para mabuhay, at yun na lang naman ang gusto ng lahat mang yari ‘di ba? Ang mabuhay.

 Pagkain, Tirahan, at Pananamit kadalasan ang pinaka-simple sa mga pangangailangan ng tao para mabuhay na binabanggit sa TV, kailangan daw ito ng mga evacuees, kaya ipadala natin sa estasyon nila tapos ipapadala naman nila sa kung saan mang sulok ng Pilipinas na ngayon mo lang nalaman na may ganoon palang lugar. Sa pag-usad ng panahon ay nagkakaroon na din ng mga dibersyon sa kung ano ba ang magiging kasali sa listahan ng mga basic needs, halimbawa, basic need na ang TV sa bahay, kailangan mo ng TV, pag wala kang TV mabuburyong ka at magiging gulay, kailangan mong mapanood si Willie Revillame (o ang TVJ, bahala ka kung alin gusto mo) habang nanananghalian ka. Naging basic need na din ang Selpon, kailangan mo ng selpon dahil biglang nagkaroon ng pangangailangan yung mga kamag-anak mo sa malayong lupalop na makausap ka. Basic need din naman ang maligo, mas simple pa ito sa TV at selpon, kung hindi ka naniniwala na basic need ang paliligo, tangkain mong huwag maligo ng matagal-tagal, magsusumigaw na ang mga skin cells mo ng “maligo ka na, maligo ka naaaaa...” . Ito, itong mga umuunlad na bagay na nagiging pangangailangan kahit hindi naman talaga (pwede ka naman mabuhay ng ‘di ka naliligo, makakapatay ka nga lang ng kapwa mo) ay ang importanteng pinipili ng mamamayan, ito yung sa tingin ng populasyon ay may mga kwentang bagay.

May karapatan nga ba tayong pumili para sa sarili natin?

 

Coffee and Cigarettes

09 April 2009

Decent coffee, I have been telling my aunt that we have to use the coffee maker, I need decent coffee, we all deserve decent coffee.

I always brew a strong brew, they say i waste the beans, but I want coffee, not colored water.

Powdered coffee, its never right, its too weak and feels lacking, too soft, too smooth, I don't know how to describe coffee, I just tell as i taste.

Tell as I taste.

Three sugars please, and no cream, no milk.

I would've had my coffee at those coffee shops, but I don't like sitting surrounded by coffe-poseurs. Drinking their candy-coated, milk-diluted, fancy-named, so-called coffee. It isn't even coffee. And besides, I won't pay that much for that little coffee, coffee has its right to be brewed and drank at a price fit for real people.

On second thought, hold the sugar too.

__________________________________

I haven't chain-smoked for weeks, my body is craving its poison.

The phleghm isn't black yet, thank whoever.

I've been having coughs this past few weeks, it might be the lack of smoking, it must be a real cough bacteria, it might be the chain-smoking.

A pack rests behind the phonebooks in a corner table in the living room. I can't leave them around while my grandma is in the country, she's staying with us.

I really need a smoke, my sweat lacks the poisonous sweet smell, my breath seems different, my dog can't recognize me by scent.

On second thought make that two smokes.

Pick you poison, pick your poison, pick your poison, pick your poison.

O hell, make it a pack, burn it in an hour.

or less.

Tulong

24 March 2009

Hindi ako mahilig humingi ng tulong, hindi ako marunong humingi ng tulong. Ang alam ko ay kaya kong buhatin ang Balikbayan Box mag-isa, 'di mo ako kailangan tulungan. Kaya kong ikabit ang computer rack mag-isa, 'di mo ko kailangan tulungan, di ko kailangan ng tulong, kailangan ko man ay alalay lang, taga-hawak, taga-pinta, taga-abot ng gamit, ako ang gagawa, ako ang tatapos sa suliranin, ako ang magkakabit ng bumbilya, walang ibang may kaya, ako lang.

Tulong, Tulong, Tulong

Nalaman ko kamakailan kung bakit naimbento ang salitang iyon, hindi ito para isigaw ng naghihingalo, o ibigay ng nagpapakabayani.

Humingi ako ng tulong, pero hindi saklolo, hindi ako nagmakaawa, hindi ako nagmukhang kawawa, hindi nila pinaramdam sa akin na nanghihina ako at binibigyan nila ako ng gamot. Inabot sa akin ang tulong dahil sa wakas nagawa kong aminin sa sarili ko na kailangan ko nito, kahit na iniisip kong wala namang makakapagbigay nito. Sa wakas nasambit ng bibig ko, kahit pabulong lang, isang hiyang-hiyang 'tulong', parang pag-amin ng kahinaan. Pero ang bilis ng pagtulong, ng pagtulong na tinawag pero hindi inasahan, ay nagsabi sa akin na hindi kahinaan ang ginawa ko kundi tatak ng sapat na kagurangan ng isipan para matanggap sa sarili na kailangan na nga. Salamat, salamat sa tulong.

Tulong, Tulong, Tulong

Parang magic, salitang pag sinabi mo ay darating, kung humingi ako ng pagkain duda akong bibigyan ako, pag humiling ako ng pagtatanggol sa tingin ko'y magiging duguan tumpok ng laman na lang ako. Pero ang 'tulong', iba ang pag hingi ng tulong, isang panawagan ng nilalang sa kapwa nilalang na kailangan kong makahanap ng solusyon sa suliraning ito, humihiling akong gawin mo ang nais mo't kaya mo para maiahon ako sa kumunoy na ito, tulong.

 

Malamang ay matagal pa bago ako masanay humiling ng tulong at tumanggap na hindi ko kaya gawin lahat ng bagay mag-isa, pero sa ngayon ay sapat na sa akin ang alam ko na meron palang darating, dumating man ang panahong masambit ko, tulong.