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Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Pakiusap

Tinititigan kita. Matagal-tagal na rin kasi simula nung huli. Halos hindi nga kita makilala.

Alam mo bang gusto kitang yakapin para hindi ka na makawala? Alam mo bang gustong-gusto kong sabihin sa 'yo kung ga'no kita minamahal? Ngunit tumalikod ka na. Habang tinatanong ko, kahit alam ko naman ang sagot. Bakit ka aalis? At saan ka pupunta?

Sa saglit na oras na iyon na nasilip kita, nadama ko ang matinding kalungkutan mula sa 'yo. Pasensya ka na, hindi ko mapigilang hind mahabag sa iyo, ang hindi maawa sa kalagayan mong pilit mo pa ring kinukubli sa lahat.

Mga tawang kinulang sa taginting. Mga pagbibirong kapos, sablay pa sa tyempo. Mga pilit na hakbang, pinabibigat ng bagsak na mga balikat at hâpong mga dibdib. Hindi ka isang mahusay na artista. Isa kang mandaraya!

Oo, nagagawa mo ngang linlangin ang ibang mga tao sa mga peke mong pagbibiro at paghalakhak, pero huwag na huwag mo sanang isiping ako'y gaya nila. Dahil dinig ko ang mga impit mong pagluha gabi-gabi. Dinig ko bawat dasal mong nagpapahingi ng saklolo sa humahapdi mong pagkatao. Higit sa lahat, saksi ako sa mga ginagawa mong pagpaparusa sa sarili mo sa kahit na anong paraan na maisipan mo.

Alam kong ayaw na ayaw mo ang pinagsasabihan pero wala akong pakialam kahit magalit ka pa. Sapagkat galit na galit ako sa 'yo.

Umiyak ka kung iyon ang gusto mo. Magsisigaw ka. Lunurin mo ang sarili mo sa alak. Murahin mo ang lahat ng tao kung sa palagay mo iyon ang makakapagpapanatag sa kalooban mo. Pero ang saktan mo ang sarili mo? Pa'no mo yan nagagawa? Bakit?

Gago ka! Oo, isa kang gago dahil napakalaking kagaguhan niyang pinaggagagawa mo sa sarili mo! Wala akong pakialam kung sinong gago ang gumago sa 'yo. Pero wala kang karapatan! Wala kang karapatan para gawin yan sa sarili mo!

'Tang ina, tumigil ka na! Tama na! Tama na!

katahimikan...





Alam mo bang sa tuwing sinasaktan mo ang sarili mo hindi lang ikaw ang nasasaktan? Alam mo bang sa tuwing iiyak ka hindi lamang ikaw ang lumuluha? Hindi ka ba napapagod? Hindi ka ba naaawa sa sarili mo?

Tama na. Tahan na.

katahimikan (na sinasalitan ng mga mumunting hikbi)...




Hindi ka naman dating ganyan ah. Ang tapang-tapang mo nga eh. Tapos dinadaan mo lang sa tawa ang lahat. Sa mga pagbibiro mo. Sa sayaw at sa kanta. Ba't hindi mo gawin ngayon? Miss na miss na kasi talaga kita. Yung dating ikaw. Yung tunay na ikaw.

Hindi patas ang buhay pero humayo ka. Mabuhay ka ng patas. Hindi ba't ikaw mismo ang nagsabi niyan? Hindi ba't lagi mong sinasabi 'yan noon? Huwag kang matakot. Hindi mo kailangang matakot.

Mahal kita. Mahal na mahal kita at hinding-hindi kita iiwan. Lagi-lagi ako sa tabi mo, nakamasid, nagbabantay. Kaya magbalik ka na. Pakiusap, magbalik ka na.

Miss na miss na kita






sarili ko.
___
"Kung ang sinta'y ulilain
sino pa kayang tatawagin
kung hindi si Pepe kong giliw.
Naku, kay layo sa piling.
Malayo man malapit din
pilit pa ring mararating
huwag lamang masabi mong
'di kita iniibig."
-titik mula sa awit na "Sinisinta Kita"

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Never forget

It could've been me. It could've been me killed in a massacre of 58 men and women, 32 of them members of the media. It could've been me slaughtered mercilessly. It could've been me now celebrating a year of injustice!

I might be the 25 year old Noel "Bogs" Decena. We probably share the same passion for journalism. We probably have the same dream of having our names huge among the bylines and television news programs. We could've been friends. He could've told me so many stories about Mindanao, his proud birthplace. I could've compared notes with him about the conduct of our job. But he just can't. He can't do any of those anymore.

Bogs used to be a Circulation Manager for the local newspaper Periodico Ini. He was the eldest among three siblings; the youngest among the troop of reporters following the story of the rivalry between the clan of Ampatuans and Mangudadatu. Bagito they would call him - a neophyte media practitioner. On the morning of 23rd of November 2009, on their way accompanying the women members of the clan of Mangudadatu to file their patriarch Esmael "Toto" Mangudadatu's certificate of candidacy, to Shariff Aguak, they were halted by 100 armed men. Only to find out, there they would meet their end. Bogs Decena was killed.

It could've been my mother. It could've been my mother killed in a massacre of 58 men and women, 32 of them members of the media. It could've been my mother slaughtered mercilessly. It could've been my mother now celebrating a year of injustice!

Genalin Mangudadatu was probably not much different from my mother in talks about motherhood. They probably share the same dedication in serving their respective families. They could've chatted animately. They could've talked about the huge difference of their status in life but most likely realise, that after all, at the end of the day, they're simply just mothers, always on the goal of working tirelessly for the best welfare of their children and husband. But no. Genalin Mangudadatu can't do it anymore. She just can't.

On the morning of the 23rd of November 2009, she was brutally killed. Prime suspects are no other than the family of her husband's top political nemesis. Her vagina was slashed 4 times by a dagger. Her eyes speared. Her feet sliced. All in all, she received 17 gunshots all over her body. Genalin Mangudadatu is dead.

It could've been my father. It could've been my father  killed in a massacre of 58 men and women, 32 of them members of the media. It could've been my father slaughtered mercilessly. It could've been my father now celebrating a year of injustice!

Bong Reblado might be my father, but no he isn't. Yes he has a son about the same age as me, but no. My name is not Jude Reblado. My father would've been ashamed of himself if he get to meet the older Reblado. His son would tell stories of how great their dad is. He considers journalism as his vocation. He loves his wife more than anything else. He considers his family his prime gem. Maybe I'll let him talk to my father so mine could take a few notes from him. But he couldn't. He couldn't do it anymore.

Bong Reblado thought he knew the Ampatuans. He was wrong. Whatever linkage he might be referring to, it didn't spare him of the sinking oblivion he is about to get buried on. His brother and own son found his dead body. An eyeball and an ear - gone. His son couldn't believe it. But years of spending time with his father couldn't fool him. It was really his father, killed on that fated morning of November 23, 2009. He could never report for the Manila Bulletin again. He could never challenge his sons anymore for morning push-ups nor hug his wife in front of all his children to see. He's gone. Gone forever.

It could've been you my friend. It could've been you, a friend of mine who's reading this right now, killed in a massacre of 58 men and women, 32 of them members of the media. It could've been you slaughtered mercilessly. It could've been you now celebrating a year of injustice!

You my friend might be as clueless as Daryl delos Reyes when he happened to be riding on a vehicle that chose to traverse that cursed road that morning. After all, you're too burdened of your own family's dilemmas to care about two former political allies now fighting head on head for gubernatorial seat like him. He wanted to buy his mother their own house. So he bought a land that he pays monthly through his wages as government employee. Now he won't be able to live in that dream home of his.

Unluckily, they passed by a road marked by Death himself, when the vehicle they're on happened to be get mixed-up in a convoy of reporters and political clan members, ambushed by a large group of armed men. Call that being at the wrong place at the wrong  time. The brutal fate overlooked the fact that they are not even aware as to what is happening that exact moment. November 23, 2009,  his dreams were buried with him. Daryl delos Reyes's died in confusion.

Behold! Fathers and mothers; brothers and sisters; men and women; all of us, yes, even you, all victims of the massacre that took place on this very same day exactly a year ago. Let the world hear our cry for justice. Let the world witness our mournings and crusades. Let not that we forget every single story almost buried on that hell of a mass grave there at a lowly hill in Ampatuan, Maguindanao. 

Remember these names. Remember their stories.

Noel "Bogs" Decena
Alejandro "Bong" Reblando
Daryl delos Reyes
Eduardo Lechonsito
Cecille Lechonsito
Mercy Palabrica
Wilhelm Palabrica
Humberto Mumay
Rey Merisco
Ronnie Perante
Jun Legarta
Val Cachuela
Santos "Jun" Gatchalian
Joel Parcon
John Caniba
Art Betia
Ranie Razon
Archie "Ace" David
Fernando "Ferdz" Mendoza
Daniel Tiamson
Jolito Evardo
McDelbert "Macmac" Arriola
Victor Nunez
Neneng Montano
Marites Cablitas
Gina dela Cruz
Ian Subang
Lea Dalmacio
Jhoy Dojay
Andy Teodoro
Bartolome "Bart" Maravilla
Napoleon "Nap" Salaysay
Henry Araneta
Bebot Momay
Genalin Mangudadatu
Eden Mangudadatu
Rowena Mangudadatu
Manguba Mangudadatu
Farida Mangudadatu
Farina Mangudadatu
Faridah Sabdulah
Concepcion "Connie" Brizuela
Cynthia Oquendo
Catalino Oquendo
Rasul Daud
___
Photo Credits: ramica-ideas.com
Sources: ANC Presents "Under the Same Sky"
              ANC Presents "58"
              National Union of the Journalists of the Philippines
              Inquirer

                       
27
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Friday, November 19, 2010

Para Sa 'Yo

Break muna tayo sa mga Lit-Emotard-Nagpapanggap-Na-May-Sense-Ako posts. Hayaan nyong lumandi muna ang inyong lingkod. Paminsan-minsan lang naman 'to mga parekoy at alam ko namang alam nyong isa akong birheng walang bahid dungis, di ba?

Anyhoo, napadpad ako minsan sa kabilang panig na kaharian ng blogosperya. Halatang baguhan talaga ako dahil nalula ako sa dami ng mga bloggers na straight...daw. Hehe. So, natuwa naman ako dahil ang daming aspiring writers. Pansin ko nga lang na mas maraming mahusay magsulat na bakla kesa sa kanila. Hehe. [peace out straight bloggers!]

Tapos ni-click ko yung isang blog. Gulat ako. Napatitig ako ng husto dun sa picture ni koyah. Matapos ang 10 seconds na para kong na-hypnotized, hindi na 'ko nakuntento. Mabilisan akong nag-back read at hinanap ang iba pa niyang mga pictures. Right click sabay save!

Taena! Kilig na kilig ako. 'Di na ko mapakali sa upuan ko. Para kong maiihi tapos gusto ko maghubad na lang. Ayun! Isa lang ang ibig sabihin neto - mahal ko na sya!

Hehe.

Describe ko sya. Moreno. Matangkad. Medium built ang katawan, yung tipong natural lang at alam mong 'di produkto ng gym. Round eyes. With nice set of teeth. Tapos yung buhok nya, alam mong dati syang semi-kalbo tapos ngayon humaba na lang ng konti.

Kaya lang, eto na naman. Hindi siya isang diwata gaya natin. Isa lang siyang hamak na mortal.

Kwento niya, konti pa lang ang naging gelfren nya. Napaisip ako. Sabi ko, sa gwapo niyang yun di bagay sa kanya ang torpe. Cool na cool lang talaga siya. Aliw na aliw ako sa mga post nya na talaga namang walang bahid kahit munting kamanyakan.

Hindi talaga pumintig kahit 1 decibel ang gaydar ko. Patay na. Wala talagang chance.

INSERT M.O.S. OF DB'S FRIEND: Eh 'di ba yun naman talaga ang mga type mo? Yung mga imposible at challenging? Tapos 'pag andyan na, ayaw mo na. 

Kaya sa 'yo pare, tatanawin na lang kita dito mula sa aming pink na kaharian at mamahalin ka ng malayuan. Basta, dito lang ako. Dyan ka lang.

Pero hayaan mong alayan kita ng isang tula na sinulat ko. Para sa 'yo to. Sana magustuhan mo at di ka mandiri na may isang baklang nagmamahal sa 'yo.

CHING! I love you tol!

gusto ko lang din sanang mahalin gaya mo.
ang ingatan at pahalagahan,
hawakan at hagkan,
buong suyo't, buong puso.
nais ko din sanang maramdaman,
maranasan at malaman,
kung paano mag-alala,
sa isang mahal na inaalala.
pangarap kong mahalin. magmahal.
ang may minamahal.

paano kaya ang alayan ng matatamis
na salita.
paano kaya bigkasin ang salitang
mahal kita.
saan kukuhanin mga awit
na isasambit.
saan papandayin mga halik
na kay hinhin.

kahibangan bang mangarap,
ang aking hangarin.
habiin sa isip, sa puso'y likhain
ang minsan sa kinabukasan
ang minsan sa isang bukas
isang pag-ibig na darating,
isang pag-ibig ang yayakapin.

lipas na yata ang panahon,
araw muli na namang umahon.
hindi na darating iyon. marahil,
wala din 'yon.


Note: Bawal makornihan kung ayaw mong makonyatan.

Alam kong likas kang tsismoso at gusto mong malaman kung sino.

CLUE: Basahin mong mabuti. Magbasa ka!
16
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Wednesday, November 17, 2010

The classic comedy

19th Century, Great Britain

I alighted the carriage and was greeted with a fine scarlet rug that stretches to the entrance of the theatre house. I adjusted the black long coat I am wearing whilst I grip the cane I am holding with my left hand firmer. Everyone bowed their heads as I made my way inside. The women made their small curtsy.

The pronouncement came. "Announcing, His Grace Sir Frances Erík Gordon-Lennox, Duke of Northumberland."

The sea of spectators parted with the usual formal greetings, acts of salute. I didn't make any eye contact, avoiding gazes from some familiar members of the House of Commons.

I proceeded to a huge chamber where the royalties and upper aristocrats gathered before the show. A mixture of sparkling chandeliers and gem stones worn by the ladies brightens the place. Claude Debussy's String Quartet in G minor provided an auspicious atmosphere, all but the usual culture moirés.

The show will feature a comic opera by Sullivan.

It is miserable enough, to say the least, to be treated with melodramatic concoctions. A theatre performance may provide a whole lots of other reasons to my fellow aristocrats, but no, Sullivan's offer of entertainment is the prime reason of my attendance here.

I cannot deny though, a small portion but relatively decent group among the nobles consider this kind of theatrical features most odious. But who's to complain if the Queen herself is most particular of such? I cannot quite forget, like it was instilled in my mind, Her Majesty's words the other day: The important thing is not what they think of me but what I think of them.

I was in such a deep swirl of thoughts until interrupted.

"Excuse our intrusion, Sir Lennox. You seemed to be lost in your own thoughts and my daughter and I just came here to offer our greetings," the old man, no other than Duke Charles Algernon Grubbins of Kinnoul said.

"It's no matter Lord Grubbins, " I politely replied then turned to the lady on his side, extending my hands saying, "I hope you are having a fine evening Lady Grubbins."

The lady gave her hand which I brushed delicately before my lips.

"I am now, Lord Lennox. And please, you may call me Anabella, as I've told you countless times."

As I meet her gaze, I thought I sensed a different glint in her eyes than the usual.

"Well, I say why don't we invite Sir Lennox to spend a day with us at Kinnoul so you two can be more relax with each other? You both enjoy cricket, am I not right?" Lord Grubbins interjected.

"I daresay that would be perfect Father. That is, if the Duke has nothing to do that is too important the next day after tomorrow?"

"I think I can arrange it so I can make appease with your invitation. May I inquire as to what's the occasion?" I politely asked.

"Nothing fancy, really. It's Midsummer, you know," Lady Grubbins answered.

"It's settled then. We'll be expecting you Sir Lennox."

"The pleasure is all mine Lord Grubbins, Lady Annabella."

And with that they left. As they make their way, Lady Annabella flashed another glance towards me. Her mouth twitched with a hint of a wink which she tried hiding after her ruffled fan.

Now it is time for the main exhibition.

As I was heading up to the main theatre, I noticed the young dans un théâtre. He is smiling towards my direction, his eyes glimmering. I noticed he has such a smooth face with a prominent jaw that seems to be too sharp, finished with some slightly grown facial hairs. His hair sleek pushed back.

As my distance with him diminished, he bowed his head, gesturing with his left hand saying, "This way my Lord."


I went straight to a private seat provided for the nobles. I can see below that people are already positioned, though some are still making deals about something with the in-charge figures, obviously hoping that arrangements could me made so they could transfer to seats of higher aristocrats who didn't make it for the show.

I thought about Lady Annabella. She's lovely, not to mention a good cook. She's a simpleton, obviously without so much intelligence. She could provide a perfect Duchess for me.

Then I imagine the young usher outside. He was roughly 25 to 28 years old. Not bad for his mediumly built body, I thought.

I raised my fingers so as to summon my chief servant just standing a foot behind my seat. The servant obliged and I commanded, "Arrange for the usual. I know you knew perfectly well whom I am referring. Go."

And with a last courteous bow, he left.

I can now imagine him saying to the young man: "My master called for you. I already made arrangements with your superior. You are to go to this place. There you will be met by a person named Wilson. You are to follow him. He will then direct you to a private chamber. There you will wait patiently for my master to come. You do understand, yes?"

The house lights faded. The music begun playing and the stage's curtain parted in the middle. The opening act is about to begin.

I breathed, inhaling what seemed to be a looming triumph for me.

"This is why I love this. This is why I love comedy."
___
photo taken from http://www.angelpig.net
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Friday, November 12, 2010

Don't read this nonsense post

I think it is very unfair for Stieg Larrson that I already had his book ages ago yet am still halfway through it.

Blame Liz Gilbert (attraversiamo my friend), J.K. Rowling (review for the coming movie) and Neil Gaiman (no sex since ages so I thought I'll treat myself for some good mind fuck instead) plus the mounting chores and activities am jaunting one after the other these past days.

I had to beat myself in remorse for ignoring it for so long coz now on the chapters am currently on, let's just say am lusting on with every letters branded in its pages!

A friend had to slap me for asking too much questions. I'm just so envious coz he already bought the sequel, The Girl Who Played with Fire and from the sound of it, it must be as cool as this first one.

I just wish I didn't agree with my boyfriend for a meet-the-parents day this Sunday, which I know would be totally boring and pretentious, so I can finish the book this weekend instead. 

Booo! Alright I lied. The truth is I'll be at church on Sunday praying for the above miracle to happen. Pffft.
____

If you happen to be a long time reader of my stupidities here, you'll prolly remember Francis, my so-called stupid little bro (just rummage through my archive bitch). 

Well, our kuya-shoti relationship's been totally rough these past months. 

I got angry with him and now it's his turn.

You see, am supposed to meet him last Sunday at 2pm in Malolos and we agreed to attend the Mass together, after, at 5pm which I regularly attends. 

I'm having a hard time remembering but if my recollections are right, I was drunk the night before. So there goes the culprit, the reason why am so lazy come Sunday that after eating lunch with my family I took a nap. My body clock woke me around 4pm in time for the 5pm mass.

As I took my usual spot in the church, there it hit me. 

I went straight to our agreed meet-up spot and lo and behold --of course he's not there. 

I don't bring my cellphone(s) to Mass, so I had to wait till I get home to see those anxious and irate messages he threw on me. This time I'm the bad guy.

But since I have more than enough of problems at my disposal right now, I thought I wouldn't care about him for now. Bahala siya. 
___

I'm on a break right now and while I'm contemplating on my mounting dilemmas, I received a phone call. I was surprised. 

You know who you are. Thank you. 
___

(Sigh) Man, am so tired. Wish someone would treat me for a dozen frapps at SBux to fill up all the stickers for the planner. 

Well, I don't know if I still want it. In fact, I haven't written anything from last year's planner they gave me. 

Hmmnn, could it be the reason why this year I seem to be all over the place and all messed-up? Maybe.

(Groans)
___

"For some reason I can't explain, I know St. Peter won't call my name."
-Coldplay, Viva La Vida

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Bereaved

Kuya Gino was confused. There has been rumors around and he couldn't believe what he is hearing. One by one people are called for a talk. Now it is his turn.

He was escorted by two marshals in black uniform. He asked them what's going on. Nobody among the two grim looking sturdily built guys answered him. More confusion.

He felt more bizarre when he was transported in a hotel nearby. They took an elevator. They arrived in a room guarded by three more marshals as the other one ushered him in. There were foods inside. The room looked fancy, but not the news he is about to hear. He is about to get fired from his job!

For more than one decade, Kuya Gino served the company being an audioman for the network's news programs. He is among the 112 workers dismissed by ABS-CBN Corporation since June this year.

When protests were mounted, those who joined them are warned, others also dismissed.

A veteran reporter of the network for 16 years, Wheng Hidalgo refused to sign a regularization contract because with it comes a waiver that would exclude her years of service.

June 16, CEO and Chairman Gabby Lopez gave his warning -sign the contract or you'll get fired.

67 of dismissed workers were from Technical Operations Division while the remaining 45 were from News and Current Affairs . 34 of those fired were cameramen, 20 lightmen, 19 sound engineers while others were video engineers, VTR men, technical director and a reporter.

with sources from the National Union of Journalists of the Philippines
___

Sa Biyernes, Nobyembre 12, saktong isang buwan simula ng mag-vigil sa mismong harapan ng gusali ng ABS-CBN ang mga tinanggal na manggagawa, muli silang magsasagawa ng malakihang protesta sa pamamagitan ng isang noise barrage upang muling ipanawagan ang kawalang aksyon ng kumpanya at ng gobyerno sa kanilang mga hinaing. 

Nagbanta naman ang ABS-CBN laban sa pagsuporta sa mga manggagawang natanggal kaya't palihim ang pagaabot ng mga donasyon at iba pang tulong sa nagpoprotestang unyon. 

















 kinuha ang mga larawan dito

23
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Monday, November 8, 2010

Yo ho! Yo ho! A Pirate's life for me!



Last Friday, nagpunta 'kong Quiapo para magsimba dahil first Friday of the month yun. Sinamahan ako nung kaibigan ko, isang kaklase nung kolehiyo at isa ring kapwa deboto ng Nazareno.

Pagkatapos ng mga kaganapan sa simbahan, aayain ko sana syang samahan akong kumuha ng mga litrato sa paligid-ligid pero hindi ako napagbigyan dahil sa lakas ng ulan. Siya naman ang nag-aya, tawid daw kami dun sa kabilang kalsada at may titignan lang siya. 

Ang loko. Ayun at mamimirata lang pala.

Bumili siya nung mga TV series pati na rin mga bagong labas na movies. Sa halagang 50 pesos, limang DVD na ang nabili nya.

Natuwa na rin ako sa paglilibot kahit pa mahirap dahil magkasukob kami sa iisang payong at siksikan pa rin sa dami ng tao nung araw na 'yon kahit pa malakas ang buhos ng ulan.

Panalo pa rin ang mga tindang porn. From hardcore to softcore. M2M. Yung mga nakakadiring all girls action. Sean Cody, Baitbus pati yung BrokeStraightBoys. Just name it, they have it!

Kung trip mo naman yung mga lumang pelikula gaya ng Sutla, Totoy Mola, Kangkong, Live Show, Pinya at yung paborito ng tito ko na Nangawit ang Bunganga sa Laki ng Tilapya, sa halagang 40 pesos, makikita mo na ulit sina Leandro Baldemor at Nini Jacinto. 

Tawang tawa naman kami ng kaibigan ko kung ga'no ka-creative ang mga gumagawa ng mga tinatawag na "indie film" ngayon. Hanep sa title! Gaya na lang ng "Lagpas," "Haba," "Araro," "Kambyo" at "Pulupot." Tadtad sa mga twinks na nagpofrontal yang mga "indie film" na yan! 

Sa totoo lang hindi ko alam kung matutuwa ako o malulungkot dahil dyan. Para kasing ginagawa na lang na excuse ang terminong "indie film" para paghubarin ang mga artista sa ganung pelikula..

Opinyon ko lang naman. Pasensya na't talaga lang na mahal ko ang mga non-mainstream film makers dahil naniniwala ako sa pinaglalaban nilang adbokasiya at hinahangaan ko ang kanilang mga sakripisyo para sa tinatawag nilang "art."

Kaya nung narinig ko yung mga tindera sa Quiapo na ang sinisigaw ay "indie film, indie film" tapos yung cover nung DVDng inaalok eh mga lalaking puro nakahubad at naghahalikan, napailing na lang ako. Hindi kasi yun ang kilala kong indie film. 

Sabi ko pa sa kaibigan ko, alam mo isa tayong malaking irony sa gitna ng lahat ng mga DVDng ito. Taga Siyete ka, taga kabila naman ako. We represent the media industry here. Ang parehong industriyang nagpapalamon sa 'tin na ngayon ay tinatraydor natin.

Sumagot siya, kung pinapasweldo lang tayo ng tama ng sinasabi mong industriya eh di sana may pampanood tayo ng sine at pambili ng original DVDs, di ba?

May katuwiran siya.

Pirata. Madami na ring trabaho ang idinulot nito. Marami ring trabaho ang naisakripisyo. Habang nagdulot siya ng kaaliwan sa ibang tao sa murang halaga, marami din naman ang nagbabayad ng mahal sa pagiging talamak niya.

Tama o mali?

Hindi ko alam ang sagot.

Sa pagkakataong iyon, isa lang ang sigurado ako. Hindi ako matatahimik hangga't di ko nalalaman kung ano ba talaga yung bagay na yun na lumagpas sa pelikulang "Lagpas."

Ayun. Napabunot tuloy ako ng singkwenta pesos sa wallet ko ng magkaalaman na.

Sunday, November 7, 2010

Both worlds

There are two major universes and I thought I belong to both of them. Always the challenge for me is keeping my balance. But sometimes, like at this very moment, I have to wonder which world do I really belong to. The Fancy Glamorous All-star Cosmos? Or the Painstaking Reality Check World.

I realised, with my usual exchange of banters around, that very few among my fellow youth are having the same struggle as mine.

While people at my age enjoy hanging around at malls and bars savoring the joys of being young over a cup of coffee or bottles of vodka, I am to be seen at a corner sulking with my newly acquired pair of shoes, beating myself while asking, "do I really deserve this shoes which price could already feed a family living from scraps for an entire month?"

But I love [the shoes]! And they are really beautiful.

Besides, I thought I need them. How would I look like if I walk within the walls of our company where people make a mental note of how much in total you costs for that day starting from your shoes up to your shirt and I am wearing a pair which I bought from the side-streets of Avenida? I thought, I wouldn't survive the humiliation.

Then there's the story of Mang Ambo that I'm working with. Blind and old, he would peddle on the busy streets of Quezon City his Buko Juice hoping to scrape 200 pesos for a day to survive, not his reputation but his very own life.

I also have in my hands those crazy statistics of government's white elephant projects that if only otherwise used for business capitals of our less fortunate citizens, we wouldn't have to hand them a Conditional Cash Transfer which would only feed them for a day and not for a lifetime. Or the fact that the president chose to lessen the subsidy for transportation while adjusting our congressmen's pork barrel to higher digits.

I was politicalized at a very young age. No, it wasn't brought along by my family. It's a birthmark which I don't know if should be considered a gift or a curse.

A gift, probably since I thought I was extraordinary, I was no fool when it comes to macro-political subjects. And a curse, since I am often viewed as peculiar, others won't understand me at all.

I remember Christopher de Leon telling Piolo Pascual in the film Dekada '70, "bata ka pa, 'wag mong pasanin ang problema ng mundo [you're too young the carry the weight of the weight of the world with you].

But was he right? Young or old, don't we all belong to that one single macrocosm?

Oh, how I hate the pretentious high-end lifestyle of the Super Class and the way they seemed to be oblivious to the on-going battle of stomachs and firearms around the world.

But at the same time, I enjoy being in their company. I love rubbing elbows with the famous and celebrities. I love the feeling of being involved. I love being in the limelight.

Then, I would again go back to hating myself. Hating this generation, my very own generation, which are so full of ingrates, liars and egotistical people, which sadly includes me.

Am I really contributing something for this dying country? For this dying world? Or am I just all talk but never the walk? Should I live with the other world then forget the other one to tighten my beliefs? Or maybe continue tip-toeing within the boundaries of these two, hoping to find a way for this two worlds to co-exist?

With these bunch of questions, one thing is sure. The answers would determine what I really want and who I really am. Only then I would know which world I really belong with.


___
This is a draft of an article am supposed to submit for a newspaper which supports young aspiring writers. Fortunately, I thought the thesis statement isn't good enough and didn't send it at all. So, please allow me to share it here just in case you'll be able to dig down within the dirt and find for yourself what I really wanted to say. 


Thank you for reading. 
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Friday, November 5, 2010

Miserere


"This is my heart bleeding before you. This is me down on my knees."



___
Photo taken by Désolé Boy 
with lines from Jewel's Foolish Games


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Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Of lousy sex, arcade games, friendship and life lessons

Codega, in the Venetian middle ages, is a person you hire to guide you by the lantern through the dark Italian streets, warding off assailants and offering comfort and protection. 
I met Rod in the street. Being the bitch in need of his scratching post, I succumb to his delightful wink. Yeah! We ended up having sex.

But to say that it was an "okay" one would be an understatement. It was terrible!

I don't know if maybe we're just both exhausted or there wasn't really any sexual chemistry at all to begin with. Maybe there was an attraction. Yeah, there was an attraction but definitely not enough to fire up the bed. [And here I learned that a 7-inch cock won't guarantee you a hot sizzling bed action]

We cuddled anyway. I love cuddling so much that I incidentally fell asleep in his arms [I have this rule not to sleep literally with men I had sex with. And I just made that up lately.]

While fixing ourselves I dropped something from my wallet. It was my Timezone card. He picked it up then look at me with a strange grin on his face.

Next thing I knew, we were racing virtually at the arcade laughing so hard. You could hear us cursing as we try beat one another. We played basketball, we danced, we answered trivial questions [to no decent success] and did a hair-rising videoke session to the tunes of April Boy Regino's Di Ko Kayang Tanggapin and Ye Ye Bonel. The sweats on our shirts are proof of a much intense chemistry than those that are shared between our naked bodies.

Now, telling you guys I had fun would be an understatement. It's definitely a blast!

What I like most about my new friend is that he can effortlessly make me laugh. He even has this weird accent which sounds very barriotic to my ears, that sometimes I'm actually having a hard time discerning what he's saying, I have to ask him repeat them again much slower [he's somewhere from the Visayan region]. I know it's bad. But hey, he says its cool anyway.

He's also very weird. One time we were walking along Araneta Center. I was animatedly telling him a funny anecdote of mine when all of a sudden at the midst of it he turned to this street and as he was walking along he told me he needs to go home quick and just bid me farewell as if nothing is happening.

Here's another one. We were watching a gang of teenagers playing Tekken. I was commenting on the way the dude is handling the game only to find out, when I looked at my side, he was nowhere to be found. After a minute or so, he just re-appeared then handed me a can of soda and crackers which he bought with his accumulated points from his Timezone card.

If you happen to read the book Eat Pray Love, for me, he was like my own version of Richard from Texas.

But as I share with him some of my problems, he would just shrug. You would never hear him comment or offer consoling words whatsoever. Though, I know he's listening. And I am sure of that. I'm just torn whether that he just doesn't care at all or is it his way of telling me "just let it be?"

At times I thought he doesn't care at all. That he's insensitive and a bit selfish. Screw the fact that I was at the middle of recounting my story or that the sex wasn't good at all. And that things are not so complicated at all if you stop questioning every bit of it and just fuck whatever it is that drops in front of you

In my recent fall-down, he might well be damn right!

I was lucky. I was dragged out from the cycle of blow-me-then-I'll-blow-you during those times I was trapped in a black-hole. The idea of jumping from one bed to another was the one blown away.

In his way, he taught me how things in relationships are no different than the arcade games we're playing. There's no guarantee you'll win. But enjoying the game while you're at it is already worth the money you paid. When the game is over, the screen flashes the reality boldly --you lose. It is now then the time to move forward, either to a new game or swipe again your card for the same ride with hopeful thoughts that maybe this time you'll get pass to a higher level. And with the number of times you lose, you may not notice that you're earning points. It might be too little to begin with, but as time flies you will be surprise how much it grows. Sometimes enough to buy yourself a soda and a cracker.
___

"We said there warn't no home like a raft, after all. Other places do seemed cramped up and smothery, but a raft don't. You feel mighty free and easy and comfortable on a raft."
-Huckleberry Finn (The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain)
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Monday, November 1, 2010

Ang Panalangin ni Casimiro Tenorio

In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti


AMA NAMIN
    Hindi ng sa iilang tao lamang
SUMASALANGIT KA
    sa lupa ba'y may langit din?
SAMBAHIN NAWA ANG PANGALAN MO
    hindi ang ngalan niya't ngalan ng kung sino-sino
IKAW NAWA ANG MAGHARI SA AMIN
    huwag ang paghahari niya
MASUNOD NAWA ANG IYONG KALOOBAN
    hindi ang sa akin, lalo't higit ang sa kaniya
DITO SA LUPA
    na tahanan naming mga sawi
TULAD NG SA LANGIT
    na siyang pinapangarap namin
BIGYAN MO KAMI NG PAGKAING KAILANGAN NAMIN
    huwag ang mga kasinungalingang pilit niyang pinapakain
SA ARAW NA ITO
    maging sa marami pang bukas
AT PATAWARIN MO KAMI SA AMING MGA KASALANAN
    lalo't higit ang kaniyang mga kalapastanganan
TULAD NG AMING PAGPAPATAWAD
    na paulit-ulit niyang sinasamantala
SA MGA NAGKAKASALA SA AMIN
    na wala ni munting bahid ng pagsisisi
AT HUWAG MO KAMING IHARAP SA MAHIGPIT NA PAGSUBOK
    gaya ng hatid-hatid niyang hapis
KUNDI ILAYO MO KAMI SA MASAMA!
    siya na nga!

AMEN.
    Amen.

Ora pro nobis. Ora pro nobis Deum.
___
"Huwag kang makihati sa kaniyang mga kasalanan upang hindi ka maparusahang kasama niya! Sapagkat suko na sa langit ang mga kasalanan niya, at hindi malilimot ng Diyos ang kanyang mga kasamaan. Gawin ninyo sa kanya ang ginawa niya sa inyo. Gumanti kayo nang ibayo sa kanyang ginawa. Punuin ninyo ang kanyang saro ng inuming higit na mapait kaysa inihanda niya sa inyo. Kung paano siya nagpasasa at nagmataas, ipalasap din ninyo sa kanya ang katumbas na pahirap at kapighatian!"
-Apocalipsis 18: 4-7
 

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