it's debatable

In case you still come across this page

2008-01-01T02:44:00.001+08:00

http://daveaL.multiply.com

Catch you there! :)

Bamboo rocks Bacolod Friday night

2007-08-29T14:42:00.000+08:00

Okay. Nobody paid me to do this. But I'm seriously recommending you to check out this event.

This Friday night. Bamboo rocks Bacolod.

Yes, you know who he is/they are. A band worth listening to (for the songs aren't just rock hymns, they're strong social commentaries as well, in case you didn't notice) and a band worth most of our time and P300 (for VIPs) and P100 (for regular seats, I guess).

One of the few really good Pinoy bands. But if you like Cueshe, don't come, we'll murder you there.

Again, that's Friday night (2000H, August 31) At the UNO-R Amphitheater. It's a UNO-R Student Gov't and Smart Buddy event. Sponsored by Killerbee, Sueño, etc.

Thanks to Andoni (of Bangon Kabataan and USLS PolSci) for getting me the tickets.

So we'll see each other there. ;-)

before i fly free and limitless according to the great jonathan livingston seagull

2007-06-24T00:04:00.000+08:00

Lately, I'm enjoying myself quite well.

Hanging out late nights at McCafe with Jong (why do I always pronounce that as McAfee? I wonder...) , or at StarMart East with Dondon, or at Piazza Sorrento with Alex - just breathing through the urban atmosphere and gazing at the cars and neon-lighted motorbikes passing by, while happy people around me celebrate their victories, whether little or major.

This is why I love Bacolod. Just calm, but vibrant. Being a true blue Bacoleño, my hometown is special and stimulating, especially with coffee, cigs and a sensible conversation. Giving me reasons to smile.

However, I know I'm leaving it all behind. I know I have to fly away, like the legendary Jonathan Livingston Seagull. I have to free myself and chase my dreams. And my heart tells me it's happening soon.

I ask Jong (much alike Richard Bach's enlightened bird named Chiang): "Where are we headed?" - a question which she, at her wisest, never really answers. Because truly, we can never tell. Every day we take a step forward, thinking we know where to go, then we always take a turn.

Saying this, I remember "Goal", a brilliant and inspiring movie about flying free and chasing dreams. The protagonist, Sebastian Munez, went for what he desired, taking steps backward as well as forward, taking sharp turns, sometimes pulling over, but always driving on. If Sebastian hesitated or lost courage, he would never have left his Mexican community in LA and would never achieve his ambition to play professional soccer in Europe. (There I go relating film to life, again. Can't help it!)

The time will come that I have have to say goodbye, without any idea when or how I'm coming back. I don't know if I will make it big in the film industry or whatever I'm dreaming about. But I know I will get there.

But right now, I'm just enjoying as much as I can, because I am happy with the decisions I have made. I quit college, breaking loose from academic boredom and creativity-constricting class monopolies. I took responsibility of my actions - got a job that paid the bills (although that job is another story) and braved the world of entrepreneurship.

Doubt and pessimism will certainly stand my way, and soon I will be facing my own fears and insecurities but the prospect of making dreams come true is much stronger than negativity.

Like the gull, I prepare myself for Level Flight, stretching my wings and bending my knees to start a jump... A jump that will launch me in the air and remind me that "a seagull is an unlimited idea of freedom, an image of the Great Gull, and my whole body, from wingtip to wingtip is nothing more than my thought itself."

As I wait for that day I pack my bags and climb a cab, a cup of cappuccino is good company -and of course, friends (whose friendship goes beyond the limits of space or time, and) who speak of ancient truths in modern tongue.

No limits, Jonathan? Well then, the time's not distant when I'm going to appear out of thin air on your beach, and show you a thing or two about flying!

I thought, and I smiled.

twenteens and tequila

2007-06-15T14:49:00.000+08:00

Nothing beats a night out with friends.

I was at Kassel Serfino's birthday party last night at the Korean Grille Bar. I brought her a sweet li'l teddy bear with a heart that says "Happy Birthday". (So gay, I know!)

Although a bear isn't obviously not enough to show how much this friend means to me, I did my best to make her feel that she's special and being loved. To make her feel that celebrating her birthday with her is actually celebrating her life. More like a victory party for going through her early twenties and the ups and downs that come with it.

The barkada was there. Dondon Casila, Carrie Mendoza and Andy Molina were the usual fun-to-be-with but at the same time, there-when-you-need-them friends. I'm glad I hanged out with them again. Too bad the rest of the gang couldn't come---Awoy Cariño's in Manila and Kayzie Zepeda's in Cebu.

Sharon, Franco Villo and a good friend Sonny Cabahug (all from Xpresscom Channel 11) were there too, and a few other classmates of Kassel's. It's been a long time since Sonny and I saw each other, so we were catching up (and discussing his/her bleached hair and what she thought of Silip, hehe).

This kind of time you spend is invaluable, priceless, timeless --- singing along (Bamboo's songs mainly, as Kassel is the guy's number one fan in Bacolod), drinking tequila and eating sisig-flavored chocolate cake with your good old friends. (Carrie protests--she's not a good old friend, if you know what she means).

Then it dawned on me, only I and Andrea are 19 in this crowd. Everyone else is in their twenties already. We're not getting younger. (KZ hates that phrase, I remember).

And honestly, I am not really looking forward to turning 20.

But then again, if you're no longer a teenager, you can always shy away from adulthood a little bit. You can be a twenteen.

my cheap mac emulation

2007-06-14T09:16:00.000+08:00

I was reading strangers' blog-posts through my Gmail-configured Outlook and I came across The Four-Eyed Journal by a guy named Jhay Rocas. His post was "One Step Closer to Owning a Mac". I can't help but comment on this review of the Safari 3 Beta, a browser released by Apple that can finally run on Windows.

I did a test drive for the Safari 3 Beta on my Windows XP. I kinda like it because it completes my Mac emulation that I am running for two months now. But I still prefer using Firefox 2.0 with the MacFox II Graphite theme/add-on--it still looks like it's running on a Mac!

(Click here for a Safari 3 beta download... or if you're not ready for Safari, choose the MacFox II Graphite theme/add-on)

And speaking of my Mac emulation, I love how my UI looks right now. It totally looks like an authentic Mac OSX Tiger! I am using this system files enforcer called FlyAKite OSX, that includes software like QuickDock, WinRoll, UberIcon, iColor Folder, Y'z Shadow, Y'z Toolbar.

FlyAKite OSX is a safe, complete Mac makeover pack. It tweaks registry and installs cool sounds, cursors, and visual styles that are truly Mac. Even the boot screen and the welcome sound are authentic Apple. QuickDock gives me that cool, fluid-like icon toolbar like what's at the bottom of every Mac screen. Winroll allows me to minimize/maximize windows and open folders/files with animation. UberIcon changes ALL my icons into Mac icons. iColor Folder allows me to assign colors to my file folders like what you can do on a Mac. Y'z Shadow and Y'z Toolbar transforms your scrollbar and close/restore/maximize buttons and adds shadows to your windows.

(Want to fly a kite too?)

As a bonus, my Winamp 5.35 is running with an iPod Nano skin. (Here for the Winamp skin.)

I know you want to see how it looks like. So here's a screenshot: (Click it to see it real-sized).

Definitely you can't get any closer to owning a Mac than this. (Although I actually own a vintage iBook Clamshell Graphite, which is good as dead---prayers for the departed).

As an alternative, there are Yahoo! Widgets you can use to add more Mac-emulating elements but they eat up much of your virtual memory. What I like about my combo right now is that it's so minimal and so smooth to use even on a 256MB PC.

Of course there is no better way to be inspired by a Mac by buying one. Hehe. :-)

And for whosoever not in his right mind to dare ask why a Mac: get lost.

silip: not another bold movie

2007-06-11T18:49:00.000+08:00

After a tiring shift I went to see a movie. Only one title sold itself - Silip. Yeah, I heard about it. Maybe saw some 30-seconder on TV and had the idea it is going to be the classic Seiko bold film. (I wonder why they're called bold?)

I was furious. 5 minutes inside the cinema I was about to leave and demand for a refund. I found myself watching a ridiculous soft porn that didn't even have a love scene worthy of an erection.

"Celia? Rico? Celia?! Rico?!" Diana Zubiri's character was foolishly calling out for his husband (Polo Ravales) and a mysterious guest (Francine Prieto) while the two are obviously beating it around the bush, and that's to be literal about it.

I mean, it's a stupid scene. You totally can hear your husband's monkey business and you keep on calling his name as if you don't know what's going on? Duh. More funny is that the cheating husband and the slut are not even hushing themselves. They keep going on. This outrageous setting is somewhere in the middle of the film. The scene is crazy.

But I decided to stay. I closed my eyes, just too tired to actually go away from the shame of seeing a really bad movie. I thought, probably I could just sleep here a bit.

And then it hit me. There's this pop-culture adage that you should never get into a movie halfway. It rings true for this catch.

The story progressed and I found out that part of the movie I hated was intended to be absurd and unrealistic. Part of the plot.

How can I judge the story so easily? I was mistaken. I soon realized I was watching a good film. 'Twas not perfect; not the best screenplay either. But it's a good story. And it is not soft porn. It might be classified as a sex drama, or a suspense-thriller, or a next-level bold film. It's a serious, dramatic peek into a woman's psychosis. The character is so alike Mort Rainey of Stephen King's Secret Window. And that's a good thing, considering this is a Tagalog movie with lots of skin.

I watched the film all over again and everything fell into place. Although Diana Zubiri's acting isn't superb, she got the message across. Francine Prieto and Polo Ravales are mere elements to the cinematic effect of the mind's confusion. In fact, the scene I bashed earlier did not really include the husband or the other woman. Diana was all alone all along.

Romy Vitug's cinematography is beautiful and the Nueva Ecija (remote village) setting is perfect. Lighting (and all that) made the night scenes clearly visible, and at daytime made the characters' skin look sacred and golden. A pointer for us who plan on shooting a project with extra skin and sweat and you-know-what.

I give it 7 out of 10 stars. And I definitely recommend it. It's not a no-brain film like it appears to be. And true to Director Joel Lamangan's word and despite its misleading sex-filled teasers, it is not a Peeping Tom's fantasy! It is in fact something that will make you think--- to connect the dots and in the end congratulate yourself that you understand what it means. Ha!

Like what my special friend Jong and I always have - parallel conversations. You know, those talks that you have many topics being discussed at the same time. You might need to stop and shut up a bit and make the connections. Then you appreciate the big picture.

By the way, thanks to Jong for another rendezvous at McCafe. Cappuccino and cigarettes and conversation. I told her about Silip and I give her credit for apparently paying attention to my usual geeking-for-a-film-I-just-watched.

And as usual, her analysis comes up with this: Moral of the story--- Always watch a movie whole, form start to end. It's not good to take a peek.

smoking kills

2007-06-10T03:54:00.000+08:00

Nicotine, nicotine, good old nicotine.

As if some higher force has commanded, I dug through my shameful lady-bag and looked for a fag. No cigarettes here, sir. Just tobacco debris that pollute the shallow darkness. I curse.

And I panic. There must be some cigarette somewhere. It's the devil's hour - 3AM, and I can't get a ride to rush to the nearest StarMart. There's hope. There must be Hope or some other stick somewhere.

I didn't give up digging. This time, I swam under my desk, into the jungle of my drawer. It is here I keep the bills, pills, phone numbers, old notebooks, my box of reserve contact lenses, an empty canister of Wrigley's Orbit, and heaps of mysterious white paper-crumpled and stuffed into the belly of my wooden shrine to a cheap Mac emulation. There must be some forgotten, bent cigarette here.

Of course this is also where I keep some used packs, twenty-two crumpled or folded Lucky Strike soft packs, and four Black Bat hard packs to be exact. But I couldn't find any Strike or Bat. My un-Lucky day.

But wait --- Sandwiched between the hard covers of my deserted journal that holds the keys to my secret daydreams and the passwords to all my accounts in the cyber-universe --- is a flat Philip Morris. Shaped like a coffee stirrer, I patiently rolled it into the original form that God intended for it.

If cigarettes had expiration dates, this unholy find would have been way, way unacceptable for my choosy lungs. But I couldn't complain. (Yeah, it tasted like cockroach urine).

I smoked. I waited for the ghostly tendrils to form rings or claws or strangers' faces. I stared.

A dead pack was staring back. Its facial expression was imposing, it's message was clear. As if this nonliving thing intends to insult me, to mock my existence, to condemn my addiction.

It was a government warning. Smoking kills.

And it got me thinking. Wasn't I already dead when I first dated the cunning Marlboro Man? Or did he murder me?

IQ of a filipino-american serial killer

2007-06-07T14:29:00.000+08:00

I was, as usual, wandering around Wikipedia. Trip ko subong, famous serial killers. And to my surprise, I found a Filipino-American in the list. His name sounds gravely familiar. A name I can trace back to my conscious childhood years.

His name, Andrew Cunanan.

I was engrossed reading his 13-chapter biography and the story of his killing spree ten years ago. (Found this bio in CrimeLibrary.com; if you want to read it, click here at your own risk).

I might sound sick in saying this, but it seems that I felt both shame and pride of what this Fil-Am criminal has done. Before he committed suicide, he killed 5 or more people for three months across at least three states in 1997.

Here's an excerpt:

When he graduated from high school, the outgoing seniors were asked to describe themselves in a single quote for the yearbook. Andrew chose one that might have had in it a warning, but, as usual, made his peers -- probably even himself -- laugh. It was viewed as a typical Andrew Cunanan stunt. His quote was one attributed to King Louis XV: "Apres moi, le deluge." "After me, disaster."

And disaster was after him. Andrew Cunanan's murder frenzy created news in the US --- Andrew was not your typical serial killer. Before he started planting bullets in heads, he was a smart-ass, sophisticated 21-year-old socialite. His IQ was 147.

The fact that he grew up around a conservative Filipino soldier as a father did not stop him from being gay. He was pretty famous back in his California high school days, before of course turning into a murderer, because of his jolly, winning, court-jester personality. And just a few years after, he became one of the most wanted criminals of the FBI in the late 90's.

He killed his two ex-lovers, two complete strangers, and the world-renowned fashion designer Versace before he shot a bullet into his own head. And his was a "beautiful head - smart and warm". It was a tragedy... A story of the real-life Talented Mr. Ripley... The modern Dorian Gray.

Again, I might be sick. I wondered, how much was my IQ? Could I qualify as a serial killer, maybe? Not that I imagine myself drilling holes for bloody brains to gush out of them - I was just pathetically curious.

So I googled for an online IQ test. And got this:

I got 133 IQ. I was not focused while I was taking it (was chatting with my friend Kayzie Zepeda) and this test might not be standardized Mensa measurement, but it said I am Mensa-level and I am a little over ten points away from 147. Something close to a mad scientist, or a serial killer. Eerie, eh?

To be really honest about it, if all else fails, if hell breaks loose, if I lose myself, I might turn into a spree murderer myself. Now isn't that more creepy? According to Kayzie, it's "brilliant and scary". I call it beautifully tragic.

I know. I can be that sick most of the time.

And if you also want to know your IQ score and find out if you are also serial killer material (gulp), click here.

why i can't come to the office today (copyright-protected reasons for calling in sick)

2007-06-03T00:27:00.000+08:00

It's 12 midnight and my shift starts in a couple of hours. And it's one of the days you know you're not going to work. I'm stressed, sleepy, distraught by my recent dogfight with Dad, underpaid and undersexed. So I decide to pick up the phone and dial my office's Sick Hotline.

I'm calling in sick today.

You know of course, that I'm not biologically sick. Maybe mentally? Emotionally? Am I sick? Like a sick, lonely bastard? Fortunately, what Sick Hotline wants to know is the reason (must be good enough) why I can't come to the office today.

And I remembered. I have this archive in my email, of the Daily (well, almost Daily) Dose of Nonsense by Vimrod, the Bard of Suburbia. Maybe Vimrod has something to suggest...

Not good enough? Here's more:

You're probably right. The reasons above are just too crazy and Sick Hotline won't buy any of it or I'll get myself fired and end up being a truly sick, lonely, Unemployed bastard not to mention being totally broke.

So I pick this more mundane, more believable copyrighted reason for calling in sick.

Okay. Maybe not the epic part. Hehe.

Vimrod's Daily Dose of Nonsense isn't nonsense after all. So if you are in doubt and you're lacking options, you might want to try subscribing with email. And that "Swerling & Lazar", the legendary couple who started all these great strips including "Harold's Planet" and "Glass Cathedrals", will not sue me for posting their artwork here without consent.

(Yeah right. Welcome to the world of Blog It! and Mozilla Add-ons like ScribeFire, where I can just grab anything even with copyright and post it in my blog. Unoriginal, but modern and convenient.)

Go get Vimrod yourself. I like receiving these very simple yet very hilarious cartoons in my mail. In a day of distress, I like to laugh after reading Vimrod's sarcasm about life's humor and horror, ups and downs. So come on, Click here to subscribe to the daily cartoon.

Now I can go back to my issues in NationStates. (www.nationstates.net - More about that next time. Promise).

the corporate curse

2007-05-31T12:02:00.000+08:00

I never even thought I could land a job so easily. And to fit in quite fine in an air-conditioned, corporate environment? Definitely a far cry from my left-leaning / tree-hugging / peace-volunteering days.

But the pains of working for a trans-national company begin to kick in. I can feel the rising tension between manager and subordinate, between policies and employees, between a job that pays the bills and a dream career that is obviously not this.

I am feeling the corporate curse. That eerie knowledge that you have a Boss, someone who perpetually questions your performance, your office ethics, your punctuality, your adherence to the dress code, and even the authenticity of your reasons for calling in sick.

That guilt, knowing if not for that goddamned pay, you don't have to deal with overreaching, over-competitive, ultra-conservative co-employees who all plan to climb that narrow corporate ladder.

That moment I become possessed by greed and pride, spending away my half-month's pay for petty things like overpriced pizzas and vices like Lucky Strikes and Chardonnay bottles.

That certainty you are under the spell of your payslip. The corporate curse.

dan brown week

2007-05-30T19:22:00.000+08:00

Four bestsellers (aren't they all?) in one single week: two second-hand paperbacks and two ebooks. One author everybody knows.

Dan Brown.

You know who he is. The Da Vinci Code guy. The heretic, the anti-Christ, the malicious mind behind the faith-mocking tales.

I'm quite impressed by his work. It is a conspiracy buff's fantasy of weaving plots about real organizations like Opus Dei, USA'S National Reconaissance Office and NASA, even the United Nations, CERN, and the Swiss Guard of the Vatican.

I started with a 150-peso copy of Deception Point from BookSale at SM West Bridgeway.

I was surprised at first; Brown's writing style isn't that good. His plot structure seems suspicious--as if generic, and unoriginal. Yet Brown found courage and a helluva info regarding NASA, NRO, Space Frontier Foundation and the White House. And I mean a hell lot of information!

Written in as-a-matter-of-fact approach, I know there are loopholes in the scientific basis of Deception Point. But who cares? Everyone loves to read a good conspiracy. Nevertheless, Deception Point can be absurd that at some point it talked about extra-terrestrial life and inserting meteorites under ice shelves. That's how big time a hoax can be for Dan Brown. And I was shocked with the twist in the end of the novel. Not shocked like, "Gosh,it was him all along!" But shocked like, "Come on!"

And then I moved on to a downloaded ebook of Digital Fortress.

I was not prepared to discover that Dan Brown was a formulaic writer! He basically had the same structure with Deception Point! And the same shock that comes with the twist in the end! How can he get away with this? But Digital Fortress is a boo. I'm not even sure why I kept on reading. Maybe I'm just letting it rain because I already got wet.

Maybe because the background issue of the book is an issue that interests me. Information privacy. Email tracing, information security, password encyrption. That kind of stuff. I'm a geek and I am definitely pro-EFF (Electronic Frontier Foundation); I believe in keeping some privacy on the internet.

However, I hated Digital Fortress. How stupid can the National Security Agency's Cryptology Department be? And duh, if you'll read it, you'll know what I mean. Stories like this make me despise the word -- Love. Eew. Hope that wil l discourage you enough and not make the same mistake I did by reading through Digital Fortress.

Now, Angels and Demons.

It's the talked-about prequel of The Da Vinci Code, the next Tom Hanks as Robert Langdon movie. And yes, my dear fellow bookworms, this guy Dan is surely a formulaic writer. You can almost predict the twists and exactly when they happen. Angels and Demons, though, is a good read. (Thanks GreyLib for the ebook).

It is surprisingly well-researched, although I know the antimatter concept is not that serious. CERN totally bashes Brown for the wrong science he presented in the novel. It's impossible to create antimatter bombs.

But the Vatican's maze of architecture and art, Church inside secrets and national security issues provide an exciting background for the fiction to take place. Brown's Vatican and Rome suddenly sprang up to life, and interests the reader to find pictures of the places he involves in the adventure, and for the richer readers, to go buy the ticket for the next plane to Italy.

The Papal election or the Conclave, an important event in the book and of course, in the real world, is also well-described that we can easily verify it as factual, witnessing what happened after Pope John Paul II's death. Matters of the Papal office are well-described that you swear what you're reading can be real.

What's not real is of course the big-time cinematic ending. "God!" That's all I can say. Ha! No pun intended. And to think that the novel's valediction includes humanity's renewed faith in the Catholic Church and the power of miracle... Not to mention Illuminati's nonexistence. So anti-orgasmic.

Lastly, The Da Vinci Code. The ever perpetual modern heresy.

Dan Brown should be burned at the stake. He's an Anti-Christ. Like a Priory of Sion Grand Master wearing nothing but an androgynous mask and leading an orgy. He's the draconian devil, the lame saint! Yeah right.

I liked The Da Vinci Code. I read it on paperback and can't stop turning the pages. It's an engrossing story, even though I already saw the movie and that I can recognize what exact lines are in the Hollywood adaptation.

Hey, I obviously will not make the mistake of arguing why the novel deserves praise and not condemnation. It's just one freakin' clever plot!

And as they say, it's just fiction! It's just a test of faith! It's not real!

Hello? Fiction or not, it will make you think. That's the point. It will make you question practices and doctrines passed on by tradition. It will challenge you, to what faith really is. Does that include religious zealotry? Talk about burning at the stake.

By the end of The Da Vinci Code, we already know how Dan Brown writes. Starts with a death, roll up a mystery, assign a sleuth, attempt to find who's responsible for the crime, and uncover the real big-deal conspiracy of all time. Glory for the conspiracy buffs!

Whew. Whatta week! And I'm blaming Dan Brown.

the lords shall be remembered

2007-04-10T10:09:00.000+08:00

I don't skateboard simply because I have no interest in such a "sport". But why not watch a film about skateboarding?

So I did, and found out "Lords of Dogtown" is a film that anyone shouldn't miss. It is as revolutionary as its subject, which is the origin of the Z-Boys - the skateboarding punks that have become legends in what has become an art and a sport.

(L-R) Three good young actors as the legendary Z-Boys.
John Robinson as Stacy Peralta, Victor Rasuk as Tony Alva,
and Emile Hirsche as Jay Adams.

This film is so beautifully made you wouldn't mind if it justifies punk culture. By punk, I mean the 70's definition of it, not the pretentious punk culture that we have right now. (Blame it on Avril). This film is awesome: the semi-documentary narrative written by an original Z-Boy (Stacy Peralta)the rock n'roll soundtrack, the almost-authentic production design, and the adorable and well-cast actors, all sewn together perfectly by the infamous directing style of Catherine Hardwicke.

Hardwicke and Peralta are both Sundance winners for their previous works. Hardwicke directed the hardcore teenage drama "Thirteen", and Peralta directed the documentary "Dogtown and Z-Boys". Lords of Dogtown is actually just a dramatized version of it.

Victor Rasuk (from "Raising Victor Vargas") plays the role of skating legend Tony Alva. Alva himself supervised all the skate stunts in this film, giving it more authenticity. Emile Hirsche is Jay Adams, John Robinson (from "Elephant") is Stacy Peralta, and Heath Ledger is Skip Engblom.

Everyone is cast right. You can see the actors believing in the material, and the director capturing all the great acting with its hard-edged, gritty but honest plot.

The film is technically a melodrama, but it's a violently vivid story of a real revolution in the 70's, full of the nasty things like sex/drugs/alcohol/etc (What? Did I just say they're nasty?) that the melodrama might just be an afterthought.

You know what's strange? Even if I don't know much about skateboarding, I felt the nostalgia and passion of the Lords of Dogtown. That's how good the film is.

not another chick flick

2007-02-20T11:24:00.000+08:00

Picture this. I was watching The Devil Wears Prada at 1 AM, alone, with PowerDVD without subtitles. I was listening through headphones so if you were around you wouldn't hear any words from the "chick flick" I was concentrating on. I know. That's a little bit funny. But funnier yet, I was laughing so hard by myself. The fact I was watching the film after midnight can't stop me from laughing so hard, especially at the part when Andy outwitted the Devil during the impossible Harry Potter manuscript search.

The movie is mainly comic, but in a classy way. It is a based on Lauren Weisberger's roman à clef and chick-lit novel of "a naive young woman in New York scoring a job as an assistant to one of the city's biggest magazine editors, the ruthless and cynical Miranda Priestly."

Miranda Priestly is the most beautiful and elegant form of evil ever seen in the movies. I couldn't see any other actress of Meryl Streep's caliber that could possibly pull a Miranda off, without being a total bitch and nothing else. Meryl Streep did not play Miranda a total bitch. She might have been a little, just a little, bitchy but it's mainly because she should be. She's supposedly a Boss from Hell. Her rudeness is in the form of creepy sacrasm, of catty compliments, and of impossible orders. But she's not the loud, cussing boss that you could have expected. She's a more sophisticated monster. She speaks in this whispery, almost soothing, almost hushed voice, but with terrible command and definite fatality.

Even her complaints don't sound like bitching. She expresses her disappointment in form of questions: "Why is it so hard to confirm an appointment?..." Why is it so difficult to get my car?..." And yes, she doesn't require answers to most of her questions.

Miranda always, ALWAYS, says "THAT'S ALL" as if you were doing small and simple errands. Irritating, but altogether amusing. Even adorable and of course, hilarious.

Which is the strongest hold for any viewer of this smart, sexy, sophisticated chick flick: Meryl's Streep performance is stellar, original and just plainly best. She deserves another Oscar and all the credit for the film. (Stanley Tucci and Emily Blunt are in their best acts too, but sorry guys, it's Streep's solo today, maybe tomorrow night).

Anne Hathaway is not the best casting choice, but she was not a miscast either. She still has a long way to go, for acting the part and not just looking the part. Know what I mean? At least she's so over being a Disney girl (unlike Lindsay and Hillary). Anne Hathaway's Andy is a clumsy but later courageous character. I laughed at her awkwardness since the first phone call she answered as Runway editor-in-chief's junior assistant. "How do you spell Gabana?"

But the moment Andy steps in with her Chanel boots, and after that excellent montage with virtual wardrobe change, she transforms herself into a Runway girl. She starts getting into her work and in her boss's footsteps. Fortunately, she never did. She realized in the end she did not want to become Miranda. She walked away.
The Devil Wears Prada might or might not be a realistic portrayal of the industry, but I think it is a truthful presentation of the brutality and necessary rush of the fashion/advertising/glamour/glossy magazine business. Beauty is skin deep and expensive.

If you don't like chick flicks, or movies about skinny models and overpriced clothes (by the way, this is the most expensively costumed movie of all time), at least watch it because of Meryl Streep's version of the Devil. You will not be scared, but stunned. Beware of Hell on Heels.

bamboo revives 'tatsulok'

2007-02-02T01:32:00.000+08:00

I don't know if most of us or our generation understand the word "LEFT" or "PROGRESSIVE" or related political ideologies...

But the upcoming album from the current No. 1 Pinoy band-BAMBOO- presents in its new songs lineup a classic hymn for the progressive-minded / leftist. - "Tatsulok" (originally by Buklod, who also wrote the classic "Kanlungan").

TATSULOK - is Tagalog for "triangle", symbolizes the Filipino class structure. The bottom of the pyramid represent the "masa"- the large chunk of the population which is overimposed by actions of the class on top of the pyramid (tuktok ng tatsulok) which of course represents the "elite" or the "rich few" who manipulate and exploit the poor.

Pardon my progressive tendencies, but what can I do? That class structure sucks and I think we can do something about it.
But sorry, I can't be extremely left-wing, I am not militant. I am at the LEFT OF THE CENTER.

So let me post the YouTube video (and lyrics, yehey!) of this great, moving song. Hope we find the message in it, and if we sing it, we mean every word! PADAYON! :-)

TATSULOK

Totoy bilisan mo, bilisan mo ang takbo
Ilagan ang mga bombang nakatutok sa ulo mo
Totoy tumalon ka, dumapa kung kailangan
At baka tamaan pa ng mga balang ligaw

Totoy makinig ka, wag kang magpa-gabi
Baka mapagkamalan ka’t humandusay dyan sa tabi
Totoy alam mo ba kung ano ang puno’t dulo
Ng di matapos-tapos na kaguluhang ito

[Refrain]
Hindi pula’t dilaw tunay na magkalaban
Ang kulay at tatak ay di syang dahilan
Hangga’t marami ang lugmok sa kahirapan
At ang hustisya ay para lang sa mayaman

[Chorus]
Habang may tatsulok at sila ang nasa tuktok
Di matatapos itong gulo

Lumilipas ang hininga ng kay raming mga tao
At ang dating munting bukid, ngayo’y sementeryo
Totoy kumilos ka, baliktarin ang tatsulok
Tulad ng dukha, nailagay mo sa tuktok

[repeat Refrain and Chorus]
[repeat Refrain and Chorus]
[repeat Chorus]

Di matatapos itong gulo

CREDITS: Bamboo's official website: http://www.bamboo.com.ph/discography_tatsulok.html
Youtube user http://www.youtube.com/profile?user=fogdisc for posting the video

tell me who your friends are and i'll tell you if they're on my friendster too

2007-02-01T03:44:00.000+08:00

Friendster still alive huh?

I've been a member since 2003. I had seven Dave AL accounts. Remember those series of accounts that are known like Dave AL UNO, Dave AL DOS, Dave AL TRES, Dave AL CUATRO, Dave AL CINCO, Dave AL SEIS and the cunning Dave AL EXCLUSIVE?

Please don't laugh at that. It was popular in years 04-05, right? Having multiple accounts was a norm two-three years ago because one Friendster account can only accomodate 500 friends (or sometimes 502) back then.

It was an elitist cyber-space race.

If you had three FULL accounts, you're popular. You're an online extrovert. You're Mr. Friendster. You're an official web-slut.

Of course we agree. I was one of the web-sluts. I don't even know who these people were, these faces without names on my Friends list. Whatever happened to the definition of the word "friend"?

Heck, I never even met most of those hundreds of friends. I never got introduced, never got acquainted, never talked, never mailed, never texted, never hanged out, never had time to drink coffee OR beer with.

So you get my point. Or let me ask this:

"WHAT'S THE F****N POINT OF KEEPING FIVE OR SIX OR SEVEN OR EIGHT OR NINE OR TEN FRIENDSTER ACCOUNTS WHEN YOU DON'T F****N KNOW WHO THOSE PEOPLE IN YOUR FRIENDS LIST ARE?"

Pardon my French. It just helps to belt it out sometimes. So that I'd wake myself up from a very bad, fad nightmare.

(To my Caucasian friend's question: "Has anyone in the Philippines ever thought of migrating to MySpace? Friendster lost steam in the West" My answer is Naah. Never crossed our Third-World minds. Let the American teenage girls and trying-hard rock bands deal with the hacker-friendly MySpace... Filipinos are Friendster fanatics-loyalistas, so f*ck off)

Last week, I canceled all my other Friendster accounts except the one I'm using now (the former Dave AL Exclusive account -- Exclusive accounts are supposedly the accounts that hold real-life friends/acquaintances)...

I felt pride and relief when I let go of those slutty Friendster accounts with all the cam-whoring pictures that come with them.

Goodbye Dave AL UNO FULL!
Goodbye Dave AL DOS FULL!
Goodbye Dave AL TRES FULL!
Goodbye Dave AL CUATRO!
Goodbye DAVE AL CINCO!
Goodbye Dave AL SEIS!

Now I'm wondering, what will I do to my fake and ghost Friendster profiles? Hehe.

so you're from science high?

2007-01-25T09:12:00.000+08:00

OKAY. You're from Science High.

Don’t say you weren’t warned. Being a science high school student is not easy. And I’m not even talking about the academic overload, the expensive science experiments, or the colossal pile of paperwork and projects. They’re all breeze to me, looking back at my four-year tenure in Nosci. I’m talking about the sheer label - “Sci-High student”. Just by being a graduate of a science high school means a lot. Most of the time, that means Great Expectations. Does that sound familiar to you?

When I was asked by The Scholar to write about life after Nosci, I was extremely hesitant. I couldn’t do it. What would I write about? I’m not even much of an achiever or a star when I went to college. In fact, I think I’m even a slacker, or a failing mark. But hey, I thought, why should I be ashamed of that? I have a message to the young people that is about to take the path I chose, or the paths I did not. Life after Nosci was both good and bad. But mostly bad. I’ll tell you why.

Let me first get back to my primary thought. You now all know that, by being a Noscian, the moment you stepped in your first class as an Einstein or Edison student, your whole perspective in life changed. You started forgetting about childhood – instead you got excited learning who Archimedes was or how different speed is from velocity. You took note of formulas in Physics or Chemistry and always made sure your grades in Math can make it to the cut-off score. My point is, you matured early because of an advanced education. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. That’s a fact.

Now, by the time you get to senior year, it’s either that you are already exhausting your brains out, OR you are just beginning your Golden Era in Advanced Physics, Advanced Chem, Advanced Research, whatever. And then you plan your after-high-school-life. You take all the qualifying exams for top universities in the island, in the country or abroad. You straighten yourself out – this is it. You have gone through a tedious preparatory program that readied you to face the big C – “College” – where you are of course, expected to excel at. Magic word is – Expected.

This is one topic that my batch-mates and former schoolmates have oftentimes debated upon. What is expected of a science high school graduate? Is he or she required to finish a Bachelor of Science degree at the least possible time (which is usually 4-5 years)? Is he or she obliged to maintain a respectable status, or a reputation of excellence? Is he or she invincible to failures and shortcomings in the decisions he or she make? Is a Noscian supposed to be bound by an unwritten contact to be the best?

The truth as of the moment is, indeed, yes. If you’re from Science High, you should be intelligent. Make that really intelligent. You should be good in the Sciences. You should be good in Math. You should be good in this, in that. You should know the answer to this, the correct procedure for that. Get the drift? To illustrate, try to see what reactions you get when you meet new people who’d find out you’re from a science high school: “Really? Alam ka gali?”

This is what’s wrong with the society that we ourselves have created. We have allowed people to impose standards on us, on our performance, on the decisions we make every day. We have allowed people to tell us what to do with our lives. This is not to discredit the noble intentions of the founders of Nosci or to dismiss the great efforts to gather the intellectually-capable Negrense youth for a top-class secondary education program. But this is to remind us that we are 13-year-olds, 14-year-olds, 15-year-olds, 16-year-olds. We are ought to commit mistakes, to stumble, to fail, to make wrong decisions. This is the most effective way for all of us to learn.

My life after Nosci, as I wrote earlier, is mostly bad. I was overwhelmed by my ambitions and when I was unable to reach most of them, everything became a frustration. There was even a point when I gave up, and never thought of picking myself up from hurt and disappointment. But I figured – there was something else that Science High taught me, other than chemical symbols or endangered species. There was an even more important thing that I learned in Science High, which makes me ultimately proud and confident to stand up and face the world.

I learned how to be tough.

So this is the bottom-line of it all: You are from Science High. You are smart. You are strong. Even if your plans don’t work out fine, or you don’t get that scholarship for college or no matter how you fail the people that expects too highly of you – Go on. The tenacity of your Noscian spirit will make you go through all sorts of challenges. Be confident – You are capable of adapting to different kinds of people and environment. Don’t think about the path you have to choose – as long as you have the guts to carry on. Don’t be afraid to fail, for you will always make it in the end. It’s in your blood, in your head, and in your heart. You are a Noscian.

I just hope that the Noscian community, which is by the way happily growing, will cultivate among ourselves a culture of liberation from unhealthy expectations. It is not by scientific method we mold persons of great value – it is by giving ourselves all the chances in the world to learn both from our notes and from experience. It is not by advanced education that we can build humanity from; it will only produce either premature intellectuals, or intellectual monsters. It is by providing enough opportunity for the humans in ourselves to develop, to strengthen our character and to unravel the meaning and lay out the direction of our own lives, on our own.

***This was published in the Alumni page of The Scholar 2007, official student publication of Negros Occidental Science High School. Dave was the Editor-in-Chief of the said school paper from 2003-04.

BOND 007

2007-01-14T15:21:00.000+08:00

Bond. Dave's bond.

Nope, I didn't go to the movies for c-ASS-ino royale. I am refering to a "bond", which is according to the Reader's Digest - Oxford Complete Wordfinder (a childhood friend since the late 90's), a thing that "ties another down or together... a binding engagement; an agreement."

And BOND 007 is just my trite label for the brand new set of personal new year resolutions.

Since new year resolutions always end up eaten up by circumstance and therefore they never really got resolved at all, I will post my 2006 new year res's again.

1. Lose weight
2. Quit smoking
3. Stop biting my nails (it's so
redundant for a smoker)
4. Never commit
5. Maintain a blog

I had other res's on that 2006 list, but all the others I unbelievably managed to execute. Like, eating slower, talking slower, writing more than talking, loving life, moving on, and all those lame emotional promises I made to myself. Really. Got over my frustrations and I feel good I ended the year right. I ended 2006 the way I started it: with conviction to get rid of emotional and psychological baggage and just to sit back, relax and accept my life's pace and direction.

Congratulations, Dave. You made it.

This year I stand up and take back what I lost. Sure, I pacified myself in '06 and temporarily put my dreams at halt. It was like sailing in the Pacific Ocean without the storms. But for '07, I gotta move my ass. I got to chase my dreams and make things happen in my life. Enough of the meditations and silent pauses for Zen rituals.

I want to stop aspiring and dreaming. I want to start dreaming stronger and doing things like I should. The storms of the Pacific are gathering, and I should sail through them all. Typhoon after typhoon I shall withstand the rough and violent waves of this sea, for I know there is always a calm after the storm.

An elegant, beautiful, inspiring, rewarding calm after the storm.

In addition to those 5 res's I haven't managed to execute well in 2006, here are my Bond 007 resolutions:

1. Get a job
2. Win back some friends
3. Make decisions with conviction
4. Work out my aspirations
5. Move my ass to where I should belong
6. Prove my worth to myself
7. Stop bitching about how bad life is
8. Start rolling up my sleeves and do the dirty work
9. Keep a wallet for money and receipts and photos and condoms
10. Arrange my books in my study shelf
11. Win a Palanca award (haha, I think this one res would run up to 2020)

Now I feel like James Bond with a Great Mission for Her Majesty.
(insert Agent 007 theme song here.)

new year, new blog

2007-01-02T10:58:00.000+08:00

Giving up smoking is the easiest thing in the world. I know because I've done it hundreds of times.

That was what I always remember from Sam Clemens (Mark Twain)'s brilliant catch-phrases. And to para-phrase that:

Giving up blogging is the easiest thing in the world. I know because I've done it approximately eleven times.

Started the whole blogging thing in the year 2003. My first blog was called "Disturbing Derelict", proof of my habit of alliteration with the letter D. My email back then was Davestation@Techemail.com (I don't even know if Techemail still exists) and my forum/radio codename was DearDaniel (male partner of Hello Kitty). I know. That was four years ago. It's almost cyber-nostalgia.

So the Disturbing Derelict became just plain derelict. I lost all my posts there. Then I started posting at Allpoetry.com. It's not really a blog, but a personals site where you can post your poetry, stories, writing contests, etc. I still have my profile HERE. The writeups there are totally disturbing,and immature. Read at your own risk. Just don't tell me I didn't warn you.

And then I started my first Friendster blog year 2004, along with my Downelink blog late that year. Both blogs in the said personals site are all gone since I canceled my accounts from both sites. Back in 2004 I had my Old Blogger account, too. But all my posts in the old Blogger are so three years ago. Then I have a few other, negligible blog attempts. I estimate I had eleven blogs for the last four years.

My problem with blogging is that I start pretty good, I maintain it for a week, and lose time and interest for it the next. I always forget I have a blog to maintain, concluding that I didn't have to keep a blog anyway because blogging are just for bored and boring people.

I am wrong, of course. Or right. I don't know. BLOG=BORE?

So what. Now it's 2007 and I want to re-live my blogging habit. My mind has been stagnant (but pacific, to be positive about it) for the past year. And this year, I want to get crazy with my thoughts again.

THUS, THE TRAUMESTURM. (German phrase for "dreamstorms").

Träumesturm is my sojourn through the violent storms of my imagination; it is sailing through the vast ocean stirred by supertyphoons of ideas, thoughts and sensations. My dreamstorms take me away from reality... But the calm after the storms always bring me back to life.

So there.

(I am simultaneously posting at my Friendster account)

ang sampung utos ng mga lasenggo

2006-07-13T16:22:00.000+08:00

SAMPUNG UTOS NG MGA LASENGGO
(saw this somewhere in Bob Ong's yahoo group)

1. HUWAG MAKULIT habang nag- iinom.

2. HUWAG MATAKAW huwag kamayin ang pulutan.

3. HUWAG PATAGALIN ANG BASO, may naghihintay pang tatagay.

4. HUWAG UMINOM NG UMINOM, kaylangan bumili ka rin.

5. MAGPAALAM KUNG UUWI NA at huwag yung biglang nawawala.

6. UMINOM NG DIRETSO SA TIYAN at huwag sa ulo upang maiwasan ang basag ulo.

7. MAGTIRA NG PANLAKAD, kahit hinlalaki ng paa, iwasan ding umuwi ng pagapang.

8. HUWAG MATUTULOG HABANG UMIINOM.

9. SIGURADUHING SA SARILING BAHAY ang uwi kung lasing na.

10. HUWAG MANAKIT, kung hindi bigyan ng pang-inom, at dapat mo pang lambingin, at ng pagbigyang muli.

>HULING PAKI-USAP< IWASANG SUMUKA AT UMIHI SA SALAWAL . . .

my relationship with a 36-year-old woman

2006-06-30T14:45:00.000+08:00

Had another late night Starmart session with Jong. A night like this stresses me and relaxes me too. Hehe. But that's relaxing for the most part.

I love Jong. Our relationship is so rich and enriching. And oh, the relationship is very much platonic; if it's more than that, then it's like a mother-son relationship minus the nagging. :-) The fact that she's twice my age is so negligible. But that makes her wiser than me. And that's actually to my advantage.

Tonight, this was the best lesson of wisdom I learned from her. "Answer only what is asked".

Jong: Dave, you know what fuego means?
Dave: Yes. Fire.

Jong laughed so hard, so it made me think. Of course, I laughed harder. Sometimes I can be so amusing. Thanks to Jong.

I think I also made one philosophical stament tonight. I was chainsmoking and suddenly, unconsciously bit a nail. Me: "Fuck, how redundant."

BTW, the title of this blog is the final title for Jong's biography in progress. Well, not that final. I am thinking of "My relationship with a woman twice my age":-) Love you Jong!

before everything

2006-06-29T14:40:00.000+08:00

"I don't want

the world

to see me

Cause I don't think

that they'd understand

When everything's made

to be broken

I just want you

to know

who i am"

Baby, I'd like us to follow our hearts. But would you really want to? Would you want to follow your heart to mine when we both don't know where it is? All I want to do is to give you a key to myself, but I can't find any key. But even if you have me already, will you be able to hold me and let me hold you, too, oblivious to the world around us? Will you not ask your head if you're doing the right thing?

dad to a dog

2006-06-26T12:08:00.000+08:00

Let me introduce to you,
BOY GEORGE.

He is a 4-month-old shih tzu. If you know about dogs, this breed is an ultra-spoiled brat, categorized as a toy dog.

And he really flaunts it.

His mommy (owner) Lenlen, has a class the whole day for her Master's so, I agreed to dogsit Boy George for her.

But it was just more than dogsitting. I admit I am not a dog-lover, or mammal-lover, but this time, there is an exception.

I love Boy George. (His mom prefers Georgie). The whole weekend I devoted my time combing his hair, making him drink, making him eat, playing with him, kissing his nose (yes!), and of course, wiped his pee and pooh-pooh.

He even slept beside me.

Sunday morning. I realized I love this dog (and I'm not doing this for the owner alone, hehe) when Boy George licked my face to wake me up. Isn't that sweet?

So I'd like to be called a Dad to this dog. Not just a dogsitter. (okay, Len?) Hehe.

All the photos here were taken by Lenlen. :-)

questions about war

2006-06-21T13:08:00.000+08:00

Yesterday, the president declared an "all-out-war" against Philippine communist insurgents.

"They want war, so we will give it to them," Arroyo's crony/national security adviser Norberto Gonzales declared with confidence.

What war, I ask? Will the released 1B anti-communist fund buy guns, weapons, bombs and tanks to counter the "enemy"? Will all communist-believing citizens be "terminated"? If my politics is Left, am I counted in as "enemy of the State"? (I didn't know that despite our modern democracy, we can still be persecuted by our beliefs) Would an all-out war mean soldiers carrying armory around the country? Would it see more AFP detachments? Would it see more propaganda against the Reds? Would it see more of Gloria Arroyo's steadfast and strong survivalist strategies?

Dear President GMA, do you even know what an "all-out war" even means?

Shouldn't we now raise this flag?

god i need a massage

2006-06-18T13:29:00.000+08:00

can you relate to that good feeling
when you take your shoes off when you get home?
have you ever moaned in relief
when you take a much-needed shower?

i always loved these secret moments
even brief and seemingly temporary
thus in each of these moments
i close my eyes and smile

for i know a minute after next
my head will turn and twist
into a life that overwhelms me
and sucks me into its maze

god i need a massage
one that is long and worthwhile
i need someone to ease me up
and take my doubts all away

i want to throw my head back
and enjoy it slow and soft
i'd like to laugh and cry
to my heart's content

i want to know that there still is
a heart inside my chest
sheer pleasure in the little things
that i see and hear every single day

i want to drop my shoulders
to stop being so tense
to smell good and relax in silence
and to have some fingers feel my skinhead

i'd love to breathe some fresh air
beside a soothing lake or shore
i can even stop the smoking
the drinking and the arguing

i'd like to put away my glasses
and even the mighty earphones
that play my favorite coldplay songs
like god put a smile on your face

this i ask but not expect to be answered
for i know my god you don't send masseurs
to the heathen and the skeptic
who questions even your existence

so i just have to accept, appreciate
the seconds when i pull my shoes off
from my smelly feet and drown myself
and my tears in a lonely bath

that takes twenty-two minutes

a cup of coffee despite warnings of rain

2006-06-16T16:14:00.000+08:00

The sky is falling
and she doesn't mind
She stirs her coffee
getting lukewarm

It's as if she cannot see
the gathering rainclouds
It's as if she cannot feel
the populating raindrops

She raises her cup
Drinks from it and smiles
She doesn't seem to care
that rain is coming

I can't imagine how it tastes
a cup of coffee under the rain
But I can imagine the caffeine
Two feet away, I can smell it

Makes me want to share
that cup of coffee under the rain
Drink from it and smile
and care not about the wailing sky

Cease to see the clouds unload
Cease to feel the downpour
Cease to care about anything else
getting lukewarm

looking back

2006-06-06T23:20:00.000+08:00

Voice so familiar even from afar
So softly it came calling my name

...I'm not looking back, never looking back

But you were so near whisp'ring in my ear
The stories in your face of a love not to waste

...So I had to look back, but there's none to look back

a jewish thought

2006-05-25T10:12:00.000+08:00

As the Rabbi said,

"al tadeen et chavercha ad she'tagi'a leemkoemoe..."

Do not judge your fellow human being

until you come to his place.

forwarded message

2006-05-18T06:17:00.000+08:00

Adolf Bautista, a friend from the medieval times, forwarded a text message, one of those I don't immediately delete seconds after I receive. I think of it as some sort of Ilonggo chant or spell, or folk song, I can't really confirm where it's from and who wrote it. But I love its simplicity and undertones.

"Pating, lupad ka na sa bato bantiling.
Lantawa ang Sentral ginapagaling.
Dolse bayabas, damu sang liso,
kambyo kalamay, matam-is,
malas-ay."

the smell will solve them all (a junkie's introspection)

2006-05-16T12:31:00.000+08:00

it's thursday night and i can't rest
my head from one whole day
of frolic and of panic

i turn the a/c on and
plug my ears with mp3s
that drown my misery

in my head they are amok
running to, fro and through
my exhaustible brain cells

speeches on social problems
scary sounds of global conflict
and images of injustices

i see them, hear and feel
all these mindboggling
heartwrenching agitating

situations that i can't just end
nor resolve on my own
but can't possibly ignore

so i turn my player louder
to kill this beat of hate
anger and negative surrender

i brush my face and i had
to smell my index and middle
fingers pass by my nose

i remember where this
distinctly strongly unique
scent is coming from

it's the smell of weed
i can't quit, an afterscent
i come to love and hate

why, let me stop this ranting
and shun the world off
with the pot i smoke

text message from an african kid

2006-05-07T10:23:00.000+08:00

The following is a popular fowarded SMS. It says: "This poem was nominated the Best Poem of 2005, written by an African kid."

Well, nobody really knows where it came from or if an African kid really wrote it, or at which award-winning ceremony was it nominated for Best Poem.

Anyway, here's the poem (spelling and formatting from the original message isn't edited):

"Wen i born,
i black.
Wen i grow up,
i black.
Wen i go in the sun,
i black.
Wen i scared,
i black.
Wen i sick,
i black.
And wen i die,
i still black.

And u white fella,
Wen u born,
u pink.
Wen u grow up,
u white.
Wen u go in the sun,
u red.
Wen u cold,
u blue.
Wen u scared,
u yellow.
Wen u sick,
u green.
And wen u die,
u gray...

And u calling me
colored???"

Credits go to my friend, the award-winning artist from UAE, Abdulla Sharhan, for letting me use his piece of art for this post. It's called "African Kid". And also to my high school English teacher, Sir Jojo, for being the first to send me this SMS (that was about four months ago!)

she walks not: a corruption of lord byron's 'she walks in beauty'

2006-05-05T16:24:00.000+08:00

She runs in darkness from her fright
Of horrid thoughts and pitch-black skies
And all that's wretched in her sight
Meet in her horror-stricken eyes
Thus hurried to that long-lost light
Which Hades to gloomy May denies
One shade comes more, one breath comes less
Had half-impaired her nameless fears
Which wave in every raven tress
Or slyly darkens o'er her face
Were thoughts startlingly stealthily rest
How grim, how hideous is their place
So harshly painted o'er that brow
Ghoulish, gruesome, vespertine
The wounds that ache, the tears that flow
That tell of days in darkness spent
A mind at pain with mem'ries flawed
A heart whose love unrequited

-------------
Author's Note:
This poem is based on Lord Byron's "She Walks in Beauty".
Originally posted at allpoetry.com.

After You Die

2006-05-05T14:36:00.000+08:00

You just can't leave me watch you by
My soul is begging dearly
As it cries coldly through my eyes
The sun I shall not see
After you die

"Darling stop confusing me with your wishful thinking,
Hopeful embraces, don't you understand?"

You just can't leaveme sing this piece
My song is ghastly written
As it wails of love in pain
The song I shall not sing
After you die

"I have to go through this, I belong to here where
No one cares and no one loves, no light no air to live in"

You just can't leave me by your side
My longing chills and creeps
As it shoos the love away
The warmth I shall not feel
After you die

"A place called hate, the city of fear
I play dead, it stops the hurting"

You just can't leave me kiss the wind
My wish is not the same
As your wishful thinking is
The dream I shall not have
After you die

"I play dead and the hurting stops, it's sometimes just like sleeping,
curling up inside my private tortures"

You just can't leaveme live alone
My misery turned to hate
As I sleep to rid the pain
The air I shall not breathe
After you die

"I nestle into pain, hug suffering
Caress every ache, I play dead"

You just can't leave me

"It stops the hurting when I play dead"

After you die

-------------
Author's Note:
This is a response poem to Mr Greenleaf's "Before You Die" (http://allpoetry.com/Poem/890276). It is embedded with the lines of Bjork's song "Play Dead" (the lines in italics). I was studying Mr Greenleaf's poem when "Play Dead" played on my Winamp. I was struck at the coincidence, and it left goosebumps all over me. The song is perfect for the tone of my poem, so I embedded its lines here. If you check this song out, you will see (or rather, hear and feel) what I exactly mean. "Play Dead" is on Bjork's 1993 'Debut' CD.
Originally posted at allpoetry.com exactly a year ago.

A Good Night's Sleep: A Collection of Poems Nocturnale

2006-05-04T13:52:00.000+08:00

"On your door I have written 'Good Night' so that when you wake up,

You will knowI was thinking of you."

-Franz Schubert

A GOOD NIGHT'S SLEEP

There is great peace
in slumber
when all the world's
in sham
and escape has closed
the eye.

There is burden
in sleep
when all the world's
just right
and joy is stirring
tonight.

MOONLIGHT

Shadows cast
make an impression
of the world
above.

Moonlight beams
through the aggression
of the heart
unhappy.

WHY THE MOON IS SAD

Adored by many a poet
is the uncanny beauty
of the night's sun.

Despised by many a weakling
is the deadly scare
of the distant mares.

Saddened by many a loner
is the lunar legend
of the solitary moon.

DARK DEAD SKIES

Dark, dead skies -
redundant truth -
I look up to see
and nothing is there.

Would there still be you?
Would there still be me?
Dark, dead skies
answer me not.-

THROUGH THE NIGHT

Under the dark skies
he wonders
where He is
and if He knows
how he feels
through the night.

Over the deep sighs
He wanders
where He is
and thinks he knows
how to get
through the night.

HE IS

He sleeps,
he is too weary.
He says
'he is safe with me'.
He stirs,
he is uneasy.
He shrieks,
he is scared of it.
He sins,
he is unworthy.
He sees,
he is to sleep again.

NIGHTMARE, DONE

Gasping for air
he wakes;
Sweating, screaming,
loud!
Forever chased
by black mares;
Caught, devoured,
crisp!
Sleep yet again, and rest
you dreamy hare;
Coming, chased,
again!

SOJOURN INTO STYX

Sojourn into Styx
where you once slept.
Not that dark, is it?
Or am I just sophomoric?

You are a son of this Sea
so scamper not;
You shall serve
as its symbol.

HE CAME

Even the moon wasn't up
when he came for me.
In the dead of the night
we flew into the dark.
Taking me where God sleeps
where only we witness
the joy of deep slumber.

SLEEPER

Hush now, he sleeps.
His lids have failed,
his grey has paused.
His words silenced,
his love unsaid.
But he wakes -
eyes sparkling yet again.
His heart has spoken.
His love lives on.

-------------
Author's Note:
These poems were written separately in a perioud of four months, late 2004.
Originally posted at allpoetry.com.

Farewell, Farewell

2006-05-03T13:22:00.000+08:00

Shadows cast
by feelings lost.
Windmills turn
by sandy storms.
Goosebumps live
by frozen touch.
Teardrops fall
by echoing words.

Farewell,
farewell.
This sun has to set.
Leaves have to wither,
Goodbyes must be said.

Tides ebb
by lunar pull.
Tides rise
by lunar thrust.
Ray of light
by sun alone.
Sad stare
by day and night.

Farewell,
farewell.
This plane has to fly.
Wings drift south,
Valediction cried.

Lucifer's Songs Part 3: "The Star's Fallen"

2006-05-02T12:56:00.000+08:00

"How art thou fallen from heaven,

O Lucifer, son of the morning!

How art thou cut down to the ground,

which didst weaken the nations!"

-Isaiah 14:12

Hear, O Father of Heaven! You've made outcast

Your son, Your heir, Your One Bright Light

that gently shone but now You've made aghast.

And I, Your Fallen Seraph, humbled by your height

shall never again will proudly seek

power-led ambition threatening in your sight.

I speak not, resist no further, be as meek

as Your lowly creatures need no redemption.

I shall be hid by the dark of parapets weak.

But behold! Sheol's parapets find me reason

to wonder at their howls and look Up High concerned:

Gates of Heaven darkened, to me they willed to mention.

And I myself can see how dark the skies have turned

as if all its torches, candlesticks put out.

Is there, O Father, I ask, a cause for angels to mourn?

I, then, have come to realize, as echoes of my call are all about,

that my query is obviously unwelcome,

that I cannot be heard, that I have no more mouth.

No more mouth, no more wings, no more Kingdom!

No more voice, no more light, no dignity!

You stripped them all from me, the worst is done.

Hear, O Father, the Highest Diety!

I beg to warn how gloomy Your palace is!

Put another seraph to bear a light almighty,

To bear a light like mine was his.

O Father, put another seraph, but wait,

choose the one with no ambition nor malice.

Strangely, an answer has come, a knock on my grim gates.

Is this Your messenger with apt reply You sent?

And yet again a louder knock, so I went up to see who brings the fate.

Strangely, a legion of my kind down here they went,

gathered in my gates condemned, so I wondered like I have not:

What brings you seraphim in the darkest of the dens?

Strangely, I in the shadows never got

any reply from this congress, or from God.

Yet I knew, I understood, why here they're at!

So in their midst and on the mount of Nod,

I kneel and pray to You, O Father,

of these angels' state, broken wings, bloody sad.

I call upon You, I know that You are near.

My heat of black from brutal burning

calls on You so please lend me Your holy ear.

For at Your holy ear I shall scream with rage upstarting!

Fuel my rage, and I shall light these depths

with my once great Fireball avenging!

O Father, how You choose to be so deaf,

You throw me here belittling my great of past?

You punished me with dark uncertainty, I wished for death!

And struck the gates of Death, the lightning has

ignited flames that summoned my awaited wake.

From Fall I rise an ancient Throne of Battledust.

I stir the earthly flames and pour into a Lake

all melted gold, all lampposts made

and make these seraphim the loyal guardians of the Lake.

And this Kingdom I built shall cause Yours to fade

Like it has now, how Your House turned, oh, so dark

because You sinfully brought down Your Star and froze it dead.

But I, the frozen Star of Dawn, shall shine and spark,

I shall reign again and redeem my morning glory,

build the greatest Empire ever marked.

Nevertheless my prayer is truly

Incomplete without due thanksgiving.

So here is gratitude, of which You are worthy:

Thank You, Father, for offering

a dark nullity for me to enlighten,

a chance to regain the true Star's Shining.

Thank You, too, for these seraphim

who believe in my cause, shining, too, in my Light.

My kingdom's come, O hallowed be Your name!

And most of all I thank You for the sight

of mortals, by appointing me your Satan.

I'll do as You please, I shall burn them with my might.

Alas! The Fallen has risen to rule the mortals' land.

To reign over their human nature, over judgment

of earth and its serpent-fearing inhabitants.

I shake all mortals' ground with my incredible strength,

For out the serpent's root shall come a fiery smoke.

I thank You God, for telling them this apocalyptic legend.

For I am now a master of every possible Rock.

These Churches, Oh how they make me stronger and greater!

By taking form of beast or demon, defining their horrors unlocked.

The Fallen by Your blessed curse is indeed empowered,

My Hell be done on earth as it is in heaven.

While dawn is called, and so am I, Your Son, the radiant Lucifer!

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

Author's Note:

God didn't create us, we created him.

Option 3 for "Sarcasm Wanted"

***Finally, I am done with the last part for the Lucifer's Songs series.

This is my first major attempt on a terza rima. (For more info on terza rima, click here.)

Thanks for Tainted Whisper's contest options I have been enlightened of how shall I write the finale for my Lucifer tale. And oh, sorry for the length!

Lucifer's Songs Part 2: "The Star's Aflame"

2006-05-01T12:22:00.000+08:00

"For thou hast said in thine heart,
I will exalt my throne above the stars of God,
I will sit also upon the mount of the congregation
in the far sides of the north."
-Isaiah 14:13

In medias res I've come to claim
Due land and all my loyal subjects
Bathed gold with different dialects
But united by my legendary name.

For I their King shall sit Up High
and all other kings shall be princes,
sheer lords that rule yet powerless.
My reign they shall never defy.

My light the world below is guided by
shall announce the glory I bear:
I am the bolts that Zeus prepares
to shake Olympus and mortals underneath it lie.

Yet gods have malicious tendency
to envy and question power:
"Who is Lucifer to rule us over?"
To Jove this they raise against me.

The Great Conspiracy has then been concocted
to allegate my noblest ambition
as hideous plan for mass destruction
of kingdoms they themselves abducted!

Even more the Throne next to mine shook
of paranoia as He Himself has heard
of my greatness, daunting as He has learned
for He is also witness to the glory they're to rebuke.

Surely my glory they have slily taken!
I helplessly eyed how these lesser princes
robbed me of my treasures and made me powerless.
I should have fought but my fireball yet is hidden.

But a prince yet dissatisfied has rudely spoken:
"I shall break you, Assyrian, and tread you underfoot."
To this my rage replied a call so aptly brought:
"I shall break this enemy's sword and leave of him no token!"

And I, aflame, warred with God's newfound
as He, alone, in His Throne saw my struggling Light.
"Why, this Star is a star I should be as bright,
I shall bear the very light of his blazing heartpound."

To hear this and to please his Master, Michael fought more
with me the Lightbearer; To death we were battling
to make whoever lives the godly powerling.
Day and night we fought, me aflame and him a-gore.

Tired of us gladiators, our Creator then stepped down
and left two thrones, mine and His, with His hand widely opened.
"This is the Hand stretched out to all your burden."
Who will it turn back? No one perhaps, but a coldness turned my bone.

Turned my bone with an icy pain shooting through
my blades, my shoulders, my fireball's flames!
This shocking chill went through my spine, it maims
my strength, my power, my light they knew!

I glared at Him whose Hand is firmly over me;
Paternal hunch for a son and heir posing a threat.
And behind Him, the Lesser Prince is grinning at such a feat;
As my wings are plucked, he continues animosity.

He steals my crown and nails twin thorns
driven into my aching, chilling, bleeding head.
He thrusts his sword into my body frozen dead,
a hissing sound of fires just quenched comes out my mourns.

As the victor pries on my paralysis,
he pushes me to fall from those Great Heights
and I descend from heavens, melting my ice, rekindling my fires
like a streaking star plunging through the dark, deep Pits.

Lucifer's Songs Part 1: "The Star's Shining"

2006-04-29T14:59:00.000+08:00

"I will ascend above the heights of the clouds; I will be like the Most High"
- Isaiah 14:14

I'm a Star
like no other,
Son of dawn,
a Lightbearer:
My soul lights
skies with torches,
my fires will soar like comets.

I'm the Star
that brings the Sun,
King of yore,
the Golden One:
My treasure
is my greatness,
my blinding beam my highness.

I'm Your Star,
Your puissance,
the one light
that guides You;
the power
behind Your Throne.
You shine as You reflect me.

I'm one Star
you truly need
to show you
your way Up High.
Together
we will set Thames
and all other worlds on fire.

-------------
Author's Note:
Every stanza is a whitney, a form created by Betty Ann Whitney, seven lines of the syllabic pattern 3, 4, 3, 4, 3, 4, 7.

From A Soul Exhausted

2006-04-23T19:37:00.000+08:00

When the orbs dim the ticker starts to die,
While horrors are unleashed it weakens and retards,
Poor and pooped the ticker starts to die,
Poor and pooped, possessed by soul exhausted.

Yet horrors come unleashed, possessed by souls malicious,
Yonder death discreet come phantoms of the night!
No wonder he grows frightened, fearing, forever hiding
From phantoms of the night he lies away concealed.

Yonder death discreet his ticker starts to die,
Into slumber he sails into the Stygian sea-straits;
He sails away concealed from horrors all unleashed,
He sails away concealed, but his soul still exhausted.

Suddenly the silenced Stygian sea-straits
starts wailing, whining, like phantoms in the night,
His soul yet again grows frightened, fearing horrors just unleashed
Wailing, whining, forever hiding, from horrors all unleashed.

And the soul exhausted wailed and whined a phantom in the night
His orbs dim and his ticker starts to die,
It weakens and retards along the Stygian sea-straits,
Poor and pooped, the ticker dies concealed!

From the wailing and whining comes a voice malicious,
Frightening, fearsome, the true phantom of the night:
"Sail into the Stygian sea-straits, where you once slept..."
Sail away concealed yonder death discreet!

They're Here

2006-04-13T14:07:00.001+08:00

Nothing has moved
but they're all here
right beside me
lying on my single bed.

Hear them breathing.
Feel their hearts beating
(as if they have those)
And see that they aren't

Really there.

Justification of Cain

2006-03-25T10:30:00.000+08:00

"But towards Cain and his offering he showed no pleasure." - Genesis 4:5

With fruits
of labored soil
his pleasure has expressed
what ground he toiled with diligence
and hope.

Hoping
all his offers
with pleasure will express
his thoughtfulness and loyalty
he owes.

But no!
Towards his gifts
no pleasure is expressed!
You lust for flesh and disregard
his herbs?

Is his
not earth You own?
No pleasure You expressed
stirs anger and not envy. It's
not fair!

Fear not
he lusts for flesh;
pleasure need not express
what Bias slain is what he never
keeps.

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

Author's Note:

Inspired by this Bible verse: "But towards Cain and his offering he showed no pleasure." - Genesis 4:5

This is a Cinq-cinquain. Although the last cinquain has an anomaly.

A Quote from Francis Ford Coppola

2006-03-24T04:48:00.000+08:00

I got a back issue of this magazine last night, and I can't stop enjoying the read. It's an old but decent copy of All-Story's Cinema Issue of Winter 2003. I love it. The magazine is supposedly linked with the Coppola's empire of film and writing. Well, i got this quote which I really liked:

"And if you desire to write yourself, I can suggest a basic exercise that will help, if you do it every morning: Apply the seat of your pants to the seat of your chair."

-Francis Ford Coppola

Escaping His Ill Fate

2006-03-20T02:06:00.000+08:00

His body hanging, swaying,
held by a tight rope around his neck
and by parlous woe
of gore - animosity!
He's to daydream, witness
a redemptive pact with his Devil.

Held by a tight rope around his neck
like an addler wrangling
his nape, his throat, his existence!
Dragging his soul to hell
with anguine diablerie,
a venomous Lothario!

And by parlous woe,
Oh, such star-crossed hell!
He grieves of the ugly
fate he is suffering
from, an eyesore peck
of troubled tenses.

Of gore - animosity!
Acrid schemes they do,
Those bunnysons, heck!
Do they treat him well,
like how they treat a weakling
without a single pence.

He's to daydream, witness
castles of Spain and fantasy.
Redundant wants but still he's dreaming
to escape ill-fated brow.
So his soul he has to sell
And pay whatever price it'll take.

A redemptive pact with his Devil
will set him free from rudery.
Faith? Blood? Life? What do you seek?
He asks the Devil's dens.
Heaven is a place of rue,
for it he died tricked and wanting.
His body hanging, swaying.

-------------
Author's Note:
This is written as a threnody, in expanded lilibonelle form using a modified sestina rhyme scheme.

Bleed

2006-03-18T20:28:00.000+08:00

Bleed,
let go of your anger
let go of your monsters
let go of yourself.

Bleed,
from a deep cut
from misery
from anxiety.

Bleed,
like you have to
like you want to
like you care.

Bleed,
for in your blood
resides the filthy
horrors you must free.

Bleed,
for in your blood
trickles the woe
of dreams unfulfilled.

Bleed,
for in your blood
their screams are heard,
redemption they seek.

Bleed,
let go of your anger
let go of your monsters
let go of yourself.

Bleed,
from a deep cut
from misery
from anxiety.

Bleed,
like you have to
like you want to
like you care.

-------------
Author's Note:
This is a repost from Allpoetry.com, originally posted March 18, 2005.

Thirteen Nights, Thirteen Tankas

2006-03-18T14:36:00.000+08:00

I.

creature
of the night,
wake up!
have you no
god to fear?

II.

restless
souls wander
his paths
of nether
together.

III.

he rides
like legends
tell of
a man on
dead horses.

IV.

with him
visiting
all night,
persuading
to wake me.

V.

pass through
the borders;
cross the
darksome land
of his Nod.

VI.

silence,
dear witness,
while he's
taking me
where god sleeps.

VII.

his eyes,
tightly closed;
his breath,
falling fast:
orgasm.

VIII.

we fly
on his wings
i hold
black bold keys
to his joys.

IX.

i will
doze to his
point of
no return
and no hope.

X.

an eye
is watching
you leave
with all my
bloody tears.

XI.

cold winds,
dark dead skies
tell me
that he's gone
back to hell.

XII.

nightmares
bring him here
without
sight or sound
only fear.

XIII.

at peace
of slumber
he dreams
of heaven
being burned.

Author's Note:
These tankas are in English form (2,3,2,3,3).. and they are all written separately.. It is not necessary that the tankas above talk of a single and common subject. They are independent of each other..;-)

Erik: An Ephrastik

2006-03-16T12:59:00.000+08:00

He's
ghastly,
horribly
legendary.
Hid for many years
by mask and monstrous lair,
he stirs a voice within her,
wondrous, angelic, but sad bird
she must fly with fellow sparrow,
leave him wanting death, his lonesome piano.

**Erik is the name of the Phantom of the Opera. This piece is therefore based on that musical (and the movies). I was inspired by Mr. Greenleaf's own ekphrastic on the same legend.

**An ekphrastic is a poem taking "as its theme a particular piece of visual art of any genre, virtually representing through poetic description something originally represented visually." - Sol Magazine

**This piece is in the form of Etheree, it consists of ten lines of unmetered and unrhymed (hey those rhymes are accidental) verse, the first line having one syllable, each succeeding line adding a syllable, with the total syllable count being fifty-five.

The Page Cannot Be Displayed

2006-03-12T12:37:00.000+08:00

God, I'm infected. My PC's slowing down because of some pesky bug.

An illness creeps,
discreetly seethes
with stealth and spies
and hacking lies.

Worms that wriggle,
bugs that fester,
eat it for a
rotten mission:

Annihilate
a terminal
with evil pure
downloadable!

To steal some cash
with mastered code
and maggots load,
now system crash.

The kernel's fried
like horses tied
to electric,
malicious post.

No page displayed,
its piece be-holed.
Fault invalid,
Sickness, behold!

Successful crap
and all messed up;
Thieves up your head
feast on, braindead.

Queen Vashti's Will

2006-03-09T19:50:00.000+08:00

"And let the maiden which pleaseth the king be queen instead of Vashti.
And the thing pleased the king, and he did so."
-Esther 2:4

She will be truncated.

Decapitated,
and amputated.

Impeached,
and dethroned.

For her visage
is a deception,

her digits,
thieves.

Her royalty's
a hoax,

and her crown
is mine.

For Three Poetesses

2006-03-09T15:52:00.000+08:00

FOR KAREN

behold my arm
I reach out to you
callused it may be
bleeding it may seem
I offer it to redeem
you from make-believe
and immerse you
down, abyss
for them but bliss
for us

FOR GALE

with much angst and pride
you rock your side of world
so how could I ever forget
such sweet dark thoughts
of a life-bitcher like I am?
oh hear me,
let me explore his mouth
with my pierced tongue.
I will please him
like I do you.
let me love him,
suck him,
like you want me to.
love evil,
suck evil,
the way I want to.

FOR GELEEN

what is that light I see?
though faint I'm sure
that it is there.

what beauty and misery
could I ever
compare to thee?

what joy it has caused
to me as if
it is joy itself.

what pain that cure
has tried to
take away.

Magdalen and Me

2006-03-07T17:28:00.000+08:00

I.

Passionate about passion
Craving for her presence
Reminiscing every minute
Loving all of it!

II.

Gently
she kisses him
but with so much passion

Electrifying
her kiss starts an
impulse that runs through

His body
so pefect she's kissing it
and licking it good

Real good
that every damn thing
fades.

III.

Last night I dreamed
of us
A veiled woman called Magdalen
and me
Making love passionately
so hot
Our perspires and oils
bathe us
Lubricating our bodies
and our souls
For that climax we always
seem to want.

Your Mystery

2006-03-07T13:06:00.000+08:00

Your voice haunts me
keeps me awake
on witching hours

Your eyes scare me
show me a world
I've never been to

Your joy confuses me
belittles my pain
and passion

Your love surprises me
brings me back
to where I used to be

Scream

2006-03-06T11:59:00.000+08:00

In every SCREAM

I SCREAM

(though not as audible)

I want to rid
the PAIN
to

SCREAM it back
to you.

it's in the hands

2006-03-06T11:57:00.000+08:00

my hands often crave to write
but it isn't the writer's itch
nor the poet's delight
they just want to scribble words of thought.

as ink spills, my tears fall;
emotions become words and words emotions.
and if to cry out loud fails
then to shout through my pen should work.

everything my hands do bring me nearer my grave
and indeed my feet carry me to different places,
yet no farfetch'd journey there is
than to write a thousand words.

the hands write
and the heart speaks;
but what is in the hands that make it
the perpetuator of my sorrows and dreams?

Insomniac's Wish

2006-03-04T18:05:00.000+08:00

In a blink of an eye
things start to blur,
out of focus
but a deja vu.

Fog on confusion
for a dream wide awake,
yet another reason
to close the eyes.

A long lost feeling.
Such a feeling seems
too foreign
but altogether familiar.

Addictive and loathesome,
vague but bold.
Emotional irony in its superlative,
an insomniac's wish.

The Road Less Traveled

2006-03-01T14:27:00.000+08:00

This road is less traveled,
perhaps not taken at all.
It is brutally lonely,
and frightening, too!

But hell am I walking it,
gravely but bravely.
I don't know where it leads me,
doesn't that make me a hero?

For I might not be Alexander
nor Miguel Villalobos.
Never a Napoleon,
in my dreams an Adolf!

Yet I can be my own hajj,
a silent dark crusade.
With my pen and my matter,
I can be the next gold conquest.

But I've yet to complete this mile,
conquer its monsters and their howls.
Walk through this deadly path,
and keep myself alive.

::Suicide Note::

2006-02-27T19:18:00.000+08:00

I leave in time
of sole frustration
a world of what
I completely hate

I die inside
of soul destruction
a life of that
no one will wait

I rest in peace
of solemn mention
a dream a lot
has killed unfate

And now the shampoo commercials...

2006-02-27T11:04:00.000+08:00

This happen to you? You are riding an almost jam-packed jeepney and rubbing elbows with complete strangers. Still, you try to enjoy the rare gush of city air hitting your solemn face, until… long strands of hair lash your cheeks like cat-o’-nine-tails! And you angrily ask: What creature does this scourge come from?

As you identify the culprit, the jeepney’s hi-bass sound system coincidentally sings “Straight… at natural, at ‘di mahal… Mukhang sosyal…” No wonder that girl next to you unnecessarily flaunts her hair, at the expense of you being tortured. You might like the smell of it, but can’t she just tie it in a public jeepney, for crissakes? You are just plain unfortunate. The monster that owns the whips called “long, straight, beautiful hair” is right next to you.

How unlucky can you get? But all of us are unlucky and unconscious victims of this commercial folly. Need I say more?

Try watching primetime TV, that is, from 6:00 to 7:00 in the evening, and count all the shampoo (and conditioner) advertisements shown. I did this experiment, and I got 20! That means, there is an average of one shampoo advertisement for every three minutes! Well that really doesn’t come as a surprise; everybody knows that. There are even three 15-second commercials of the same shampoo that are being shown one after the other. (That ridiculous series with a ridiculous catch-phrase: “Girls get it” – No wonder I don’t).

Okay, let me set things straight. I am in no way against long hair. (Ano’ng paki ko sa long hair nyo; inggit lang ako dahil ako’y kalbo?) What is sad about these advertisements coming on air like clockwork is the large but wrong influence that they have on the TV-watching population. A 2003 study by McCann-Erickson confirmed that media has become a “surrogate partner” to the youth, which spends 8-14 hours a week watching TV. Majority, if not all, of this crowd, are not aware that these commercials shown to them are oftentimes being absurd and one-dimensional.

Take the shampoo commercials. They all claim that their product can take care of your “black and shiny” hair and keep it “long, straight and beautiful.” Some even come with very bad Taglish slogans like “Buhaghag-free” or “parang cinellophane” or “buhok na straight at may body”. And why always say “99.9% dandruff-free” when no one can count dandruff flakes? Why say it’s “natural” when all the hair in the ads are obviously digitally-manipulated?

The effect of these commercials are worrying. The audience that are frequently bombarded with images of absurdity and wrong concepts of beauty eventually accept the “ideologies” that they get from the commercials. These ads dangerously manipulate the minds of TV viewers into thinking that their products should be bought. Shampoo commercials, for instance, teach that women (and even men) must have a certain type of hair and look a certain way to be beautiful.

And if these commercials continue to sing foolish songs like “Balik freshness, balik bounce” and employ pretty faces and dancing girls just to endorse the products, then the youth will regrettably learn “short-circuit decision-making”. The product with the most enjoyable dance steps or the prettiest endorser will have to be bought.

But something can be done even if these irresponsible profiteers go on with spending billions on advertising their products. You read that right, they spend billions. Advertising research agency AC Nielsen reports that in Philippine media, 10 billion pesos a year is shelled out for hair care ad expenditures (that’s where all the shampoo music videos come from); 6 billion for skin care (whitening the Ati, for example); and 3 billion for oral care (aah… the maker of the Toothpaste Commercial Smile).

Then again, something can be done. We can all be more conscious and concerned with our choices. By practicing responsible consumerism, we can stop these advertisements from polluting our mind with short messages of what’s cool, what’s in, what’s beautiful. We should beware of those commercials that fool the consumers.

And then we can enjoy riding a jeepney without being whipped in the face.

(To be published in the Wesneco Torch March 2006 Magazine)

A God You Want

2006-02-21T09:38:00.000+08:00

you look ahead and god you say
it’s dark and god you’re scared
you thought behind those lights
lies what you want a god you want

you were wrong oh so wrong
but worry not be sorry not
you are lost but i yes i
am here to take your hand

i will hold you guide you
guide you hold you
love you love you
i will be your northern star

i know i know i am
not what you want
not a star you look up at
not a star you wish for not a star

but you will see it’s me it’s me
who has been there and there
who has been telling you calling
you take this path this certain path

so now i whisper in your ear
what you want you get it here
a light a star a god who never sleeps
without you home you safely home

Open Letter to the Telecom Companies

2006-02-18T21:33:00.000+08:00

Dear Smart, Globe, and Sun (in no preferred order),

I own three SIM cards – one from each of you. Since I cannot afford two more cellphones, I have to switch into three numbers using one phone. This is obviously inconvenient, especially to a professional and renowned puzzle-maker (boggler) like, ehem, me.

I am writing this very formal letter addressed to your most gracious telecom companies because I am a religious user of all your services ti gapati ko nga kinanglan niyo ko pamati-an. For a long time now, you have made me and millions of other cellphone users avail of your respective unlimited texting (even calling) promos. Nalipay guid kami nga minilyon nga texters. Tanx!;-)

But I am wondering – these unlimited/nonstop promos of yours have become very popular and successful – why aren’t you picking up from there and making these unlimited services, regular? If you have allowed us to send 300 messages with 30 pesos, why not allow us the same thing even if we use regular load (kag indi na kami magpalanog-a sa pa-register)?

Puwede man lang gali nga maka-usar kami sang serbisyo niyo sa barato nga presyo. Ti puede man siguro nga himuon niuo ni standard mode of service, indi bala? Say, a subscriber loads P50 and then text for 5 days, without limit, without registration. Or if that’s not good for your glorious profiteering, then charge 5 cents for every SMS. (And cheaper call rates, too!) I sometimes grow tired of waiting for that clock to strike 11 and for that message that confirms my invincible power to text 1,000 SMS a day. Please, paminsara niyo guid maayo ang brilliant suggestion ko.

And if you’re asking why should I use three SIMs, you just have to review your ever-so-creative marketing genius because you know very well the answer. I shall remind you that your unlimited promos apply only to users of the same network. Smart-to-Smart, Globe-to-Globe, Sun-to-Sun. Sometimes it makes me predict that this “network choice” will lead to a Great Divide among us Filipinos, and a civil war. Dali lang, bawi-on ko ang civil war. Hehe.

I therefore request your honorable company executives to serve as examples for national reconciliation. I am requesting you to join forces and launch a “United Unlimited Service” – one that is affordable, reliable, and not network-exclusive. Consider also my suggested name for this phenomenal unity among networks – “U2” (for the two U’s – united and unlimited), which is the namesake of one of the best rock bands in the world, a personal favorite of mine.

From there will come a day when all your services are inexpensive, and Filipinos are not caught in between a commercial cold-war between cellphone networks – a day when we can text to Smart or Sun or Globe (or TM or TNT or AMP) biskan san-o, biskan di-in.

I assure you that the moment you respond positively to the abovementioned requests (which I strongly believe is shared by all cellphone users in the same national dilemma), you shall be highly appreciated. It will be an unparalleled convenience to the Filipino people, which you serve. (Service is your business, right?)

Your immortal subscriber,

Bentot

0920xxxxxx1
0922xxxxxx4
0927xxxxxx3

(This essay was published in page 24 of the Wesneco Torch February 2006 Magazine)

Funny How My Poet Writes

2006-02-15T14:59:00.000+08:00

He tries to write a poem for her
to state his dote and be sweet on.
But funny, how my poet writes:
He jots of love and ends as grim.

He gropes for words that seem just right
to win her heart and then her faith.
But funny, how my poet writes:
He sounds as if he wants her soul instead.

He opted hard to come by light
to reach for her and make her his.
But funny, how my poet writes:
He scares her off and even seethes.

Stranger

2006-02-14T15:57:00.000+08:00

Time is up,
so is the Moon.
With all Her might
She beams upon my flight.

But care not,
Her shadows warn:
I came as a Stranger,
as a Stranger I shall depart.

Butchery

2006-01-20T11:34:00.000+08:00

You cut my heart
Stabbed, ripped it apart
I watch in agony and in joy…
The sight of it is gory
But still I laugh, and then
I cry

I let it bleed
Let it ooze like red mud
With the stench of spoilt love…
The smell of it is nauseating
But I inhale, and then
I choke

I beg you now
Come hurt me, slay me
Feed on my muddy, bloody heart…
Its taste despicable
But it is real and rich of relish
You thirst for

My chest is open
You slashed it, left it stinking
While knowing that the twin of pleasure –
Its pain – is grave, eternal,
But you so very badly want it,
You want me

DEAD.

((Sound ChecK))

2006-01-16T11:13:00.000+08:00

the beat vibrates
and reverberates

shakes my insides
shakes my existence

tries to shun me off
from your quakes

but i'm loving it
and i'm growing

to crave for it
to dance with it

to embrace it
to assimilate

it to my system.
your sound check

turns me on
beat so erotic

beat so strong
beat so brave

beat the beat
beat me

and don't wake me up
from this ear-deafening fantasy

Vashti's Mirror

2005-12-30T15:23:00.000+08:00

"To bring Vashti the queen before the king with the crown royal, to shew the people and the princes her beauty: for she was fair to look on."
-Esther 1:11

Mirror, mirror
who's the fairest bunny?

You are, your majesty,
your pubic splendor!

Mirror, mirror
who's the beauteous bunny,
tell me once more?

You are, your highness
you pulchritudinous hetaera
your handsome harlotry!

Mirror, mirror
who's the paragon
of this empire,
the epitome of sovereignity?

Certainly not you, your honor
you're rather a lady
of easy virtue;
a jade among the gems!

enjoy. enjoy.

2005-12-25T14:48:00.000+08:00

sing-song
with me along,
skip and dance,
enjoy.enjoy.
hum to the tune
i play so loud,
love the party,
enjoy.enjoy.
let me bring
the clowns inside;
laugh your hearts out,
enjoy.enjoy.
the cakes i bake,
the turkey i roast,
the wines i mix,
enjoy.enjoy.
come on y'all,
'tis hell, hello;
can't you see, dear folks,
enjoy.enjoy.
sing and dance
to the tune
of death,
enjoy.enjoy.
laugh at, love
the clowns
of styx,
enjoy.enjoy.
eat the fruits
of the serpent;
eat,just eat.
enjoy.enjoy.
drink,get high.
fly so fast,
melt the pot.
enjoy.enjoy.
as i hold out
my goddamn dagger
to stab your backs
and cut your necks.
'tis my party.
'tis my joy.
i want you all dead,
enjoy.enjoy.

Why Contemplate

2005-12-12T13:05:00.000+08:00

What is there to contemplate about?

Is it why our hearts are made of stone?

Or is it why our love is gone?

Why love?

Why contemplate when we have never loved?

I didn't know there were angels in america

2005-12-06T10:46:00.000+08:00

A long week out of blog.

I can just imagine the developments in the last week (Nov25 to Dec5)... Fast-paced, full of changes and challenges. Fcuked up.

Perhaps the best thing that happened was my most recent Awakening: Angels in America.

Like any other Filipino, I have been confused throughout my adolescent life of how I view Americans. I remember learning from grade school the appreciation of the public educational system introduced to the Third World by the Americans. Education for all.

I even speculated that if we have been colonized by the big US of A, we could have been like Hawaii or Guam. It occurred to me, Filipinos can not stand on its own. We could have been better if we submitted to American rule. Tutal, give and take man lang na.

I was also amazed by the American lifestyle and culture (especially teens answering back their parents, hehe), living through Nickelodeon and MTV for the last 8 years of my life. Even until now, I watch HBO, CNN, NGC, channels that showcase (well, most of the time) -- America.

I was also taught the American Dream. The land of the Free. The greener pastures. The green money. I loved the America. I daydreamed about it. Who doesn't love America?

BUT for the last week, the cynic and skeptic in me rose above my dreamy self. I secretly hated (from the root word envied) America. It was and still is an empire. Crushing its way around colonies and neo-colonies (like the Phils), misleading, deceiving, and exploiting the "lesser" countries.

Who gave us the colonial mentality anyway? Who invented globalization?

Now I see that the Americans have become the supervillains (sorry for that so-negative word), or perhaps the Rich who becomes Richer. I see their power and my insides churn at it.

And I do not want to submit.

My American hypnosis was fortunately interrupted. I thanked God (the Philosophy not the Deity, even Him is often Americanized) that I have been disturbed from my Sleep. I now wake up and face the ugly countenance of America.

Credits shall go to where they are due. Thanks to the Wesneco Torch, for injecting the journalistic approach to this Awakening. Thanks to the PADEPA (Pambansa Demokratikong Paaralan) in Bacolod, headed by LFS Negros Organizer Mike de la Concepcion, for sharing to me the secrets of the American education. Thanks to the Adbusters magazines that I loved - they taught me anti-American capitalism and showed to me how sick these American corporates are. And finally, thanks to HBO for Angels in America.

The 6-hour movie series showed me what America really is. (personified by Al Pacino, ehem)

The show deserves a separate study (let me just find that script somewhere) and I will have to to do that analysis on the AIDS-homosexuality-Mormon-or-not theologies side of the production next time. But for now, I must tell anyone, who by any very unlikely twist of fate, is reading this.

Angels in America proved to me there are no "angels" anywhere New York or LA or even Utah.

Fcuk the Americans. It's good I have been awakened in shit. Indeed, it's deep shit now in this country. Blame the Americans. So what if that's finger-pointing?

It's better than pointing my finger up.

the toothpaste commercial smile

2005-11-28T02:20:00.000+08:00

I don’t know if it’s my usual scepticism or if it’s the commercial that truly sucks. What I’m talking about is this TV advertisement for a popular toothpaste brand. Yes, that one with a guy loading a bus, with an all-American smile. See? You know the loser.

Wait a sec, let me clear one thing first. Numero uno, I think the song played in that particular commercial is cool. But hey, isn’t it irritating to hear it from a 30-seconder showing a “cute” or pa-cute guy grinning nonstop? Oh come on, what’s the point?

The advertisement is with no doubt an exaggeration. I understand that’s the part of the trick: the purpose of every toothpaste commercial is to make the consumers buy the toothpaste. So they use this basic formula: they have to show you a cute guy and girl in the mall, at the beach, on the bus – doesn’t really matter where (but the more public the place is, the better). They keep staring at each other with their love-stricken smiles showing off their extra-white teeth. And by the way, these two cuties don’t know each other yet – and they just “accidentally” bumped, or the caught the falling girl or the other way around. In short, they just met.

This ‘school’ of exaggerated toothpaste commercials insults me. They commercialize a certain breed of hypocrisy that is paired with superficiality. They teach you to smile to a complete stranger, in the most uncommon of circumstances. They tell you to “just smile”.

Smiling is a physiological and psychological phenomenon. According to research (you read that right, there actually are researches on smiling), a smile is drawn when facial muscles are moved, especially the zygmomaticus muscle near the mouth and the orbicularis oculi muscle near the eyes. This is said to be physiologically genuine, named the “Duchenne” smile after researcher Guillaume Duchenne, because this smile is only produced as an involuntary response to true emotion.

A Duchenne smile in a toothpaste commercial? I don’t think so.

There is also what researchers call the “Pan American” smile, which is said to be voluntary. It is named as such because it shows politeness, for example, by a flight attendant of an airline of the same name. Research says this is an insincere smile because only the zygmomaticus major is moved when you sport it, and that it is done because it has to be.

A polite smile, yes. In a toothpaste commercial? Not what I’m talking about.

I looked and looked for any comprehensive identification of the type of smile I see in toothpaste commercials and I find nothing. Perhaps this smile is still unnamed. So please let me call it the “Toothpaste Commercial Smile”. What makes it unique? You just have to open your mouth and bare your clean, white teeth to everybody in the hopes of someone noticing and getting it on with you tonight. Being true to emotion and being polite are totally unnecessary.

Smiling, whether genuine or for politeness’ sake or for a toothpaste commercial, is supposedly beneficial. Remember that aphorism that a smile requires less facial muscles to move than a frown? How about your guidance counselor telling you how a smile can pre-introduce your positive personality? Have you by any chance heard a study conducted in Sweden concluding that a smile is contagious? That a smile is answered with a smile? That when you put a happy face, you also put up an air of happiness around you?

But I am a sceptic. I suspect that a smile might be from a toothpaste commercial, from being hypocritical and superficial. And especially when it’s from someone I don’t know and who just happens to sit beside me on a bus.

These TV advertisements showing us that we can actually smile “whenever, wherever” are annoying. But what’s frustrating is the cumulative effect this hypocrisy and superficiality has on us. They eventually influence us into showing off a “killer confidence smile” to practically everybody in the public.

If it’s true that smiling makes you feel happier, then do it, for crying out loud. Make other people smile back, even if you don’t know them. But don’t overdo it. And don’t do it at all, if you aren’t happy or glad or amused or pleased. Or else, you’ll end up in a toothpaste commercial.

Hey wait; now that’s one good reason to smile.

(This essay was published in the Wesneco Torch November 2005 Magazine)

I bought nothing today!

2005-11-26T09:32:00.000+08:00

November 25, 2005 is BUY NOTHING DAY.

I did. That's anticorporate. I know.

The rationale? Take this from BND:

"For 24 hours, millions of people around the world do not participate in a doomsday economy, the marketing mindgames, and the frantic consumer-binge that's become our culture. We pause. We make a small choice not to shop. We shrink our footstep and gain some calm. Together we say: Enough is enough. And we help build this movement to rethink our unsustainable course."

And for me, I succeeded. I did not buy anything - from fastfood to cellphone load and cigarettes. I may be new to this "mental environmentalism" and "buy nothing" movements, but hey, I did it. I didn't kiss the asses of at least two money-making monkeys in the Philippines - McDonald's and Marlboro (two brands I use before joining the movement) and Smart.

McDonald's and Marlboro are perhaps the most famous brands that are dissed today, but to little of non-Filipinos' (and even Filipinos') knowledge, in the Philippines one industry that needs to be fought is the telecommunications power. Virtually there are two major remote-control-grabbers here: Globe and Smart.

Every hour in Philippine TV there are about 2-3 commercials from both telecom companies. Not counting the not-to-be-mislooked companies like Sun and Bayantel. These companies battle each other with marketing tactics that are pretty much mass brainwash for me. They generally fool the Filipino TV-watching population into a largely corrupting business.

And so every day Smart and Globe (and Sun) take over Filipino mental environment. They pollute it. There is even a popular belief that Smart steals cellphone load by sending privacy-penetrating ads through SMS. Imagine the 8 million people losing P1 in just a day. This P1 will go to the telecom company, and they earn 8 million in a jiffy. Sinister, eh?

We have to stop these telecom companies' corruption and make them pay for what they have stolen! We have to stop them from emptying our pockets!

I did not buy any cellphone load today; even there was a big deal of pressure for me to reply to the messages I received. I simply disconnected myself for 24 hours.

But it doesn't mean that I stop using Smart. In fact, my plan is, very early tomorrow morning, I am going to re-load my account and register to Smart's bandwagon "Unlimited Text" promo. I will spend P30 for 3 days of unlimited texting (damn! That doesn't include texting my Sun and Globe friends! That's another story)...

Hell I will! I estimate I can send more than 3,000 messages in 3 days! I will totally exploit Smart's "generous promo" to the point of exhaustion. I will suck them dry.

That might spoil the company for now. But wait a little bit, and they will eventually withdraw from this advertising tactic. Pesky mosquitoes we are to them, but we already have drained their blood to the moment of death. And that, my friends, is victory over the money-making monkeys of Philippine telecom industry.

another blog attempt; life's vital statistics

2005-11-21T18:27:00.000+08:00

If I remember right this must be the fifth time that I started a blog. The first blog was at the same "blogspot" as this one. The second...er... I do not fully recall. To make the long story short, I am again trying to maintain a blog that is supposedly helpful to me.

You see, I need to blurt out. I have so many frustrations and anxieties (did I spell that right) at this moment that I cannot possibly be at peace with my mind. I need to relax, just jot all the way to relief. Can I do that?

Well I'll know, wouldn't I?

Just this afternoon, some teacher asked me "What is life?", a perfect evidence of how cliched class discussions can be. Everybody should give out an answer, I didn't know why. When it was my turn, I said "Life is an art form." To which my teacher reacted subtlely. Perhaps my answer was as trite as her question. I didn't care.

But what struck me at the course of this discussion is the teacher's proposition that life is beautiful and should be kept that way. Of course there are just too many conflicting views regarding that. Consider my other classmates who describe life as "hard", "difficult", "sad", etc. etc. Even I, who said Life as an art and who personally prefers to capitalize the word Life, agree that Life is a disaster. But it is also artistic, no matter the weight of disaster.

Views on life are too varied, so varied that they take on extremes. Take, for example, the famous lines "Life is a box of chocolates (you'll never know what you'll get)" and "Life is a bitch". They don't go well together, don't they? But still, they are widely accepted.

My introspection on the matter made me more confused. Should I be guilty that my life is not as beautiful and happy as others'? Should I cast away the bad images and scents in my life to make it a "bed of roses"?

I hate to say this, but my answer is No. Life is a pretty bitch in a dashing red gown. Life is a hard-coated candy. Life is hard, and you must swallow it hard. Life is only beautiful when Life happened to you.

For me, It's just happening. In this point in my life, I am down, sad, angry, alone, lonely and a complete asshole. But I am Life's number 1 fan. I see it as a Dark Art, one like the Durmstrang students learn in Bulgaria. Or a Potions class. Or an artists' cult. Or those Humanities lessons done in crap. Life is a shitload. I love it.