To the Flower of the Revolution

To the Flower of the Revolution (A Poem for Cory Aquino)

by: JULSITOS

To the Flower of the Revolution
borne under the equatorial sun,
whose heart bloomed in the fields of fury
under the price of the the tyrant's gun.

Beware the grand illusion
the tyrant had not believed
that Fate's own hand, the fickle one
its pride it has deceived.

Where the winds of change blew upon
the yellowed ribbons of the few
but faith and fate has stirred the hearts
to change that which they never knew.

And so this widow, fragile though strong
cloaked beneath the haloed light
asked the heavens to change the wrong,
to muster all our feebled might.

With voices falling like the rain,
of ballots sullied with the tears
where justice shall never be in vain
to dissipate our buried fears.

As for the trumpets heard on high
from every distant road and hill
to walk, to cover and to fly
onto the lion's den for the kill.

To seek solace and of peace
guided by a mantle from above
to put the hardened hearts at ease
and show them that such is love.

For such a flower can only be
as gentle as those who knelt
for it's better to be than to enforce
the bullets tucked under the belt.

And so a miracle that only He
can ever show to us this day
that peace can be had only if we
seek guidance and to pray.

Chiang Mai, my Love

Ahhh... The beauty that is Thailand.... Chiang Mai, this year?

or Laos?

Star ng Pasko ( the Unofficial English Version )

I wrote this English translation December 2011. I really love this Christmas song. It's quintessentially Pinoy.

STAR NG PASKO
composed by: Marcus & Amber Davis

There are times, the darkness and the void
the stars above shines brighter than the night
However grey, the skies inside our hearts
behind it all, there is hope and light.

The light that sparks the fire
burns inside us all
brighter shall it be, generosity
Warmth and the love, of Your embrace
shall now mend our broken days.

He who sent us this holy flame
is none but you, the Holy Name
I thank thee, thank thee for Your light
Illuminating this one Christmas night
I thank thee, thank thee for Your light
Illuminating this one Christmas night

We are the light, in the dark road ahead
We’ll tighten our hold now; now give me your hand
Living through the strongest waves
Everyone can rise again and stand.

The light that sparks the fire
burns inside us all
brighter shall it be, generosity
Warmth and the love, of Your embrace
shall now mend our broken days.

He who sent us this holy flame
is none but you, the Holy Name
I thank thee, thank thee for Your light
Illuminating this one Christmas night
I thank thee, thank thee for Your light
Illuminating this one Christmas night.

He shall shine on all our hopes,
inside everyone.

Because you are Bro, Because you are Bro
  Because you are Bro
Ang star ng pasko

I thank thee, thank thee for Your light
Illuminating this one Christmas night
I thank thee, thank thee for Your light
Illuminating this one Christmas night.

He who sent us this holy flame
is none but you, the Holy Name
I thank thee, thank thee for Your light
Illuminating this one Christmas night
I thank thee, thank thee for Your light
Illuminating this one Christmas night.

He who sent us this holy flame
is none but you, the Holy Name
I thank thee, thank thee for Your light
Illuminating this one Christmas night
I thank thee, thank thee for Your light
Illuminating this one Christmas night.
 
Because you are Bro, Because you are Bro
  Because you are Bro
Ang star ng pasko.

MERRY CHRIST-FILLED CHRISTMAS TO ALL!

More Poems of Angela Manalang Gloria

A lot of pageviews from my blog comes from one singular source: an entry about Angela Manalang Gloria.  So to celebrate her lyricism and people's interest in her life and works, here are several more poems that are not found floating in the internet. Bon apetit!

The Score

I have a standing score to reckon
With you before I'm done
With love and all the false pretences
That holds to the sun.
Not that you tried to break my body
With an endemoned lust,
Nor that you willed to break my spirit
And pinioned it to dust.

----

Pain

Pain at my side has been a sharp reminder
  I must not love too much or cry
For brighter suns and firmaments to bind, or
  I shall surely die.

I could be free for honeyed light and laughter,
  But O this pain that lashes long
To slip into my hungry senses after--
  the sustenance of song!

---

The Debt

Oh I have been so near to Death,
  So near it held me by the hand
And taught me as Life never had
  To weave a rope of shining sand,

For Death was kind and more than kind:
  When my first terror slipped away,
It rolled the lid from off my night
  And burned my coffin into day;

And it was good to breath again
  The little breath it gave to me
And see with Death-awakened eyes
  Enchantment sitting on a pea

And wonder ripening on thorns;
  It was enough, enough to be!
I am beholden unto Death
  For giving back my self to me!

---

Resurrection

Out of the roots of agony and pain
Life in my limbs now flowers to the sky.
Who dare encompass all that sun and rain
Can compass, will find it not so wide and high

At this immensity that leans to poise
Upon the fervent music of my blood.
Nothing can crush me now or stem my voice:
I bear upon my breast the very kiss of God.

---

1940 A.D.

     I

We heard it whirring through the air
Like some primordial, thundered word.
We sought to flee it everywhere
Yet everywhere it stirred.

Voiceless from palavers of peace,
We watched the nameless horror grow
Watch it till, glazed beyond release,
Our eyes see neither friend nor foe.

     II

Talk of the sun that redly burned
With glory in Homeric skies!
That was no sun, but gore once urned
And alchemied with epic lies,

Not glory, but catastrophic dust,
The sad eclipse of flesh and bone,
The twilight of the mind that must
Yield to exigencies of stone.

     III

There is no bright Apocalypse
In this despair whereon to cling,
Save that, in durance vile, the lips
Break into prayer for another spring.

Now, go and buy Angela Manalang Gloria: A Literary Biography from the ADMU Press before it goes out of print.

Return To Sender (Part 2)

One of my drafts from years ago came back to haunt me...

Dearest daughter, what happened in the provinces cannot compare with the brutality that my generation in Manila had witnessed in those trying times.

In Manila, just two days after the late President Arroyo was assassinated, the power of the government shifted to the military and the police to which apologists today still try to justify it as an inevitable consequence of GMA's announcement of Martial Law. Back then, everyone thought prayers can stop history from happening again, but we were wrong. Too wrong. Too optimistic.

Surviving lawmakers like the late Senators Lacson, Arroyo, Revilla trooped to the Senate Building to discuss how to resolve the present crisis. Also, there was an emergency session at the Batasan Pambansa where most of the congressmen really attended. Each forum called for an immediate cessation of military intervention in all matters politcal. Each lambasted at the underhanded way the men in uniform subverted the rule of law for their own selfish interests. Each vowed to take up the cause of EDSA.

While the TV rankled with electrified remarks from the likes of Remulla, Beltran, Pichay, Dilangalen, they did not suspect that the military will take action against them. The military led by turncoat General Aglipay, locked all possible exits of both houses trapping all the existing politicians into one hellhole. Aglipay then gave the command to turn on the several car engines wherein exhaust fumes immediately wafted via the ventilation system into the chambers of Congress and Senate. From the start, senators and congressmen were first fidgeting at the lack of air, then the coughing began, followed by panic. Sheer panic. In live television, the morbid horror of seeing your elected officials being killed one by one by an unknown and unseen force shocked the entire nation. People remembered watching Loi Estrada clawing her nails into the main exit and shouting invectives to the military. Senator Flavier vomited in his seat then collapsed instantly. The male senators like Mar Roxas, Lim and Jinggoy tried using the heavy hardwood tables as battering rams but instead, they accidentally rammed Senator Enrile in the process thus leaving a wet crimson mark on the exit door. Senator Santiago tried pounding the doors but to know avail, her face contorted indicative that the end was near. Some prayed quietly but many wailed and shrieked as they perfectly know the grim consequence of the Nazi gas chambers. After two hours, both chambers were no more. The military then barged inside peppering all bodied found with bullets ensuring no one will walk out alive. This was in full view of national television.

...to be followed

The 711 Allegory: A Matter of Convenience

A Japanese 7-11 store at night

People like convenience stores. It's always available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. You can just go in confidently knowing you can buy the things you need without having to stress yourself the deprivation of not having. It's there and it's convenient. No worries, no headaches. Because of it, you take it for granted. You don't mind it nor do you put great importance to its existence, to think that without that convenience store, you'd be stuck soapless, soda-less, load-less, food-less for the rest of the night.  Perhaps that's why people don't appreciate 711 or really put their loyalty into it- because it is there. It's not like Coke and Pepsi, or McDonalds and Jollibee, or Globe and Smart, wherein people fight over it, or protest over it, because such stores can not elicit passion among the people mainly because it's being taken for granted. It's like thinking about 711 becomes an afterthought.

I wonder how people would react if one day 711 and the like would suddenly close shop and never to open again? It's a horrible parallel scenario however paradoxical it may be. No more bags of ice or cold sodas for instant gatherings, no more chips for that sudden hunger pangs. It's scary but it's possible.

And a lot of times relationships can become like a 711 convenience store. People take people for granted knowing they will be there. Children take parents for granted thinking they'll grow old with them. Friends take friends for granted knowing they'll be there with a just a SMS away.  Mentors take students for granted confident that the latter would always be beholden to the higher man, couples take each other for granted thinking one cannot fall out of love.  Spouses take each other for granted feeling as if their marriage is permanently etched in stone no matter how abusive the relationship becomes.

Well, sad to say, regret is the opposite of foresight, and termination is the realization that such debacle cannot go on.  Many ended in a downward spiral mainly because the "relationship of convenience"  become so entrenched that previous tolerance to it dissipates entirely.  At the end of the spectrum, the "conveniencer" thinks that this kind of group dynamics is already banal, hence, he or she is not aware or sensitive enough to its existence, while the "conveniencee" continues to tolerate the dissipation of group dynamics that when it already has reached a point of no return, it will snap him or her to realize that such relationship is unhealthy.  Only when the "conveniencee" buys him- or herself an ounce of self-esteem and self-dignity can he or she realize and stop the cycle of abuse. Parents would remind kids of responsibility and threaten to cut off any monetary support, wives would threaten husbands of divorce, students would complain, and friends would tell friends enough is enough.  Sometimes it's only when people love themselves more that they can stand up on their two damn feet.

So, the moment one has brought this cat out of the bag is when it becomes complicated.  The "conveniencer" may think you're merely over-acting and being too demanding. If that person is able to realize that he or she is treading on delicate ground, then assuaging and allaying the issues at hand may set the boiling point a few degrees back. It's really doubtful it will set the temperature to zero.  It's like shaking a container of oil and water; though it will go back to its separate levels, but never again it will have that same clean-cut separation.  If pride and/or ignorance continue to be the blocks that make the "conveniencer" difficult to move, then the "conveniencee" may take drastic actions to prove his/her point.  Perhaps that's why after failed counseling comes forth divorce or failed reconciliation comes forth bitter goodbyes.

However, if people would find common ground between those lines of separation, then only perhaps then  can they make a possible arrangement. It is doubtful that things would return to the way it was before.  As we grow old, we tend to eschew the drama of it all.  Unlike the movies where in just one episode tempers flare up and in the next, all is well, real life tends to be more low-key and more vicious. In this Asian culture of ours whereby overt manifestation of temper is looked down upon, the "conveniencer" has to be more attuned to the subtle misgivings of the other person. For if you can't comprehend its logic (because you're too stupid to know it) and its dangers (because you're too thick-skinned), then it may be just the ticket to push everything into the deep fryer. Then when it's over and done for, both parties might as well go home and sleep it over. It's because tomorrow shall be a new day and a new chapter of their lives.

Burning Out

Burning Out
by: Julsitos

When the sun that burnished bright
the heavens with its flame,
has lost its hue to the depths of night,
never will the ends be the same.

A Critique on Philippine Komiks Art

Velasquez's Kenkoy

Philippines Komiks as a genre has been a struggling industry at the dawn of this century- struggling to survive and struggling to discover its identity.

Yu's X-Men

Here in the Philippines where the American colonial mentality is rife, the comic art movement is still influenced by the demigods of Marvel and DC. Although many have been inspired by our old Masters like Redondo and Velasquez, there are artists who draw nothing but spandexed heroes and Disney-like anthropomorphs. While it is true that some try to break out from the scene on their own, others lend their hands to DC and Marvel for financial sustenance. It is the unfortunate but inevitable result of our ailing komiks industry. Priorities are based on survival rather than on creativity, on the basic needs rather on luxury.  That is the sad reality of a Third World comic-loving nation.   Artist devote more time and effort parroting Western physique and Western plots, than on the stuff they wish they would do on their own.

Portacio's X-Men

Though many are struggling here in Third World Philippines, others likes of Whilce Portacio bask in the sunlight of the American dream (and the limelight of the American comics industry).  His stereotypical Westernized art is commendable in terms of technical virtuosity but I still feel that too much of his super hero characters can be bad for one’s health.  I mean, they're too puerile to be anything more than in its present state no matter how window-dressed it is for mature audiences.  Although it is a fact that Filipino old masters have served the altar of DC and Marvel, they still retained their air of originality with works leading the horror and adventure series, thus, they stuck to their own style without being smothered by American spandex. 

On the flipside, Filipino manga artists who have been suckled from the teats of Tezuka, Asamiya, Toriyama, and Watase have lost their originality when they aped the big saucer-like eyes, smudge-like noses and lips as thin as a hairline. Even with all the arguments in the world telling me that “it’s the story that counts” or “we’re just manga-influenced but our art is still original” whittles down to the fact that these artists (me included- I never cared for originality) took the best from Japan and morphed it into something half-Japanese. Though one cannot be blamed for it since many Filipinos have been weaned on Voltez V, Transformers, Ghost Fighter, Fushigi Yuugi and Dragonball, it’s frustrating to see that these artists feel they have a need to copy everything from the technique up to the patently Japanese semantics and non-verbal expressions. In effect, their pursuit is not to produce a Filipino identity, but to satisfy their manga cravings. Ask yourself: Is there a place in the Filipino identity for gigantic robots? For school kids in miniskirts? For nosebleeds and sweatdrops?

Culture Crash's take on manga Pinoy-style

 If we remove all the capes and spandex from the scene, and the manga from the pages, we will be left with our own classic Pinoy style. If one collectively puts the works of the aforementioned Masters, you would be able to find a style that is uniquely Pinoy. Ours have more ornate and elaborate details. You can find it in the background, in the folds of the clothes, in the ripples of the/ lakes, or in the facial expressions. They evoke a beauty that is richly Baroque unlike their American counterparts whose lines seem spartan, sparse and lazy. The draftsmanship of Pinoy komik style is borne from the Filipino mentality of horror vacui wherein every corner must have its use, its decor and its embellishments.  We take inspiration from the florid lines of our churches, from the creative strokes of the Art Noveau bahay na bato, from the grimy pollution and garbage filled scenes of Manila.  We make horror vacui our style of rendering, and it works.

Hiroshige's woodblock print

Tintin in Tibet by Herge

Apart from those that make our style unique, there is still one foreign art style Filipino artists may want to try- the ligne claire. Ligne claire, French for “clear lines,” favors the use of deep bold lines of equal strength and thickness to draw the entire scene. It’s what some would call a “democracy of lines” for there are no crosshatchings, no chiaroscuros. Unlike the Marvel way of drawing where realism and shadings are de rigeur (Think: Moore’s V for Vendetta), Franco-Belgian graphic novel artists tend to do the other way. With the Belgian Hergè at its forefront, bandes desinees like “Adventures of Tintin”and “Asterix” have been churning out art published in the ligne claire style. Is it because perhaps they were influenced by the Japanese ukiyo-e prints of Hokusai and Hiroshige just as Van Gogh and Tolouse-Lautrec were inspired? Perhaps so, for the Japanese influence is apparent in these contemporary artists of bandes desinees. However, what’s most striking is that they adopted this form as entirely their own that if one has not studied Japanese prints and its connection with Post-Impressionism, you won’t realize that Tintin is part Tokyo.

Here in our country, the only one I have seen practicing this style while infusing the techniques of the Old Masters is Gerry Alanguilan. He has not abandoned the legacies of Velasquez and Redondo for it can be appreciated clearly in the meticulous details of his backgrounds, but also he has been making his characters in the ligne clair style which is a breath of fresh air in the industry.

Alanguilan's Elmer

I am not advocating this style over the others just so we can have an identity in this artform. Rather, we should learn from these styles to supplant and enrich our already “existing” style- the same one that of Velasquez and Redondo. Their form is the reason why foreigners appreciate Filipino Komiks because for someone from the outside who has little bias as to what is here, identifying their art as uniquely Filipino is something to be proud of.

Peter van Dongen's Rampokan Jawa, a novel about the Indonesian Revolution

Enriched by taking what’s best the world has to offer like how the Belgians did with Tintin, and by not mimicking entirely another country art form is one key to enrich our Filipino identity. It may not mean that we are limited to copying those of Velasquez’s just in order to have consistency in style, but instead of going for the ultra-detailed background favored by the old, artists can create their own form without being hypnotized in drawing samurais or caped crusaders. My point here is that ligne claire is blind when it comes to country-specific iconography and stereotypes that such a technique can eventually foster a brand new, uniquely Filipino komik style. The anatomies can vary, the eyes can range from saucers to pinpoints, all in the style of ligne claire. It's up to the artist, but the style can become infused with our own. And that is the exciting thing to see.
 

The Poison Tree

This is one of the lesser known poems written in 1794 by the amazing William Blake. It doesn't take a genius to deduce the magnificence of its meaning.

Check out this song entitled "Magpie" by Blur of "Girls and Boys" fame in which they verbatimly took Blake's Poison Tree and transposed it into song.



... and here's my version of the poem:


The Poison Tree

Sow the seed of anger
and water it with time.
Sunned by patient waiting
the tree that bears the crime.

So until that torrid summer
that tree of brilliant fire
whose leaves now let a crackle
of unextinguished ire.

Upon a branch an apple grew
heavy with acute desire
hidden in its crimson hue
the sap to strike the pyre.

Then a foe I knew before
whose path I once had crossed,
smiled and walked towards the tree.
Into her hands, an apple tossed.

And so with glee she ate it all
deserving of what she's fed
and when i walked towards my tree
there she was, lying still and dead.

The Star

The Star
by Julsitos

You were once the star that guided me
whose firmament remains strong and true
where your light shines upon my compass,
illuminating and new.

As I borne upon the winds of change
coursing and blowing my sails from sea to sea
and yet my star twinkles in the night
beckoning its siren song to me.

But through the years I grew attached
to the thought that she is set
upon the crown that shines so bright,
her guidance I do not regret.

Still I thought that all is fine
my star continued smiling radiantly
to the earth that holds her very dear
with her fire caring patiently.

Alas! Her light that shines for me
began to flicker and to dance
Alarm was I that I scoured the heavens
the cause for this awful chance.

The star I knew, I have discovered,
has spent her remaining rays
never telling that she is tiring
her once so brilliant days.

And in despair I tried to fix
and stoke the remaining light
but just like the ebbing of the evening shore,
my star longs her return to night.

And when the dimming of her light
extinguishes what is above
to die, and never to behold
the star that I once loved.

The Seville Communion: A Review

“The Seville Communion begins in the Vatican with a hacker code- named “Vespers” breaking into the pope’s personal computer and leaving a cryptic message: “In Spain, in Seville, there is a place where merchants are threatening the house of God and where a small seventeenth century church kills to defend itself…” Pérez-Reverte then introduces his flawed hero, Father Lorenzo Quart, a valuable operative in the Holy Office’s Institute for External Affairs (known as “the dirty works department,” by some members of the Curia). It’s his job to go to Seville, investigate two mysterious deaths at Our Lady of the Tears and discover the identity of Vespers.Once in Seville, Father Quart finds himself collar-deep in intrigue: There is the wealthy banker who wants the land the church stands on and his beautiful, estranged wife who will do anything to thwart him. There is Father Ferro, the fierce parish priest and Sister Gris Marsala, an American nun and architect, both intent on saving Our Lady of the Tears. There are also three endearing villains-for-hire who steal every scene they are in. Perez-Reverte skillfully weaves murder, mystery, and corrupt politics–both sacred and profane–through his story before arriving at his trademark unpredictable ending. ” -Amazon review

That in a nutshell is what the whole novel is about. The plot is smouldering, the descriptions are bathed in the warm Sevillan sun and perfume of orange blossoms. Unfortunately, this had some flaws that will turn-off readers.

1) Arturo Perez-Reverte is exhaustingly enthusiastic in writing the names of each bar, each street, each building, all with long-winded Spanish names in the hope of injecting local color into the scene but ends up alienating readers with its tiresome and hyperspecific names. For instance, instead of saying, “the bald man met him at the corner cafe”, he would instead write, “Don Verbano de la Rama met Querico Ignacio de Viver at a table inside the La Scala de Sevilla Cafe fronting the Nuestra de la Paz Church.” For the first two chapters this seemed quaint but having to read it until the end makes me want to hurl the book at his face.

2) Plotwise it is Agatha-Christiesque predictable but thoroughly unsatisfying. The arguments and mystery elements are weak and definitely not funny. It’s like building the tension of a wonderful mystery only to find out that there’s no mystery at all.

3) The characters are stereotyped and flat. The protagonist seemed clueless as to the mystery even when the book was nearing its end. The villains look as if they were plucked out from a Loony Tunes cartoons and their characterizations are stupidly Sevillan- a flamenco dance, a matador and a Hemingway wannabe from Cuba. Even though they were meticulously described from birth to their last indiscretion, it still falls short from being well-rounded. Hence, it will not make you sympathize with any of them.

4) Perez-Reverte does not let the dialogue describe his characters, but rather he explodes in a hurried exposition describing in excruciating detail all the character’s history just like an overbearing essayist. I really do not care whether the villain’s lighter was given by Hemingway or not.

With such kind of literature, it’s no wonder that I’ve found it stacked inside the National bookstore bargain bin.

Hannibal Ibarra Redux

Hannibal Ibarra, one of the low-key komik artists here in the Philippines, is renowned for his watercolor works on faeries and other creatures culled from Pinoy mythology like the Tikbalang. Details of his biography or even of his listed works are scant and wanting. This probably adds to his mantle of obscurity as an illustrator (for most people outside the komiks circle), but nonetheless, his works are being collected and are highly sought after by Filipino and foreign sequential art aficionados. Even if his' is a niche market, acquiring one of his works is already worth the price, and collecting his masterpieces is a delight more because of the aesthetic pleasure it brings to the viewer rather than the possibility of immediate financial return.


It not for the bragging rights of owning a work by a Filipino master that makes one smile, but to see the lines, the balance of the subjects and the gradual mottling of colors held together by a professionally made frame gives you that giddy feeling of well-being. His watercolor work as seen below is further enhanced once it was placed inside a frame- a work worthy of anyone's gallery.

Waiting and Waiting

Tiger, tiger burning bright
in the darkness of the night,
tail uncoiled, claws now curled,
waiting for the trap unfurled...

Why I Love Bacolod

The video below says it all

NITI - Bacolod City Tourism AVP from Gary Lake Liza/Leo Vision on Vimeo.

Magkari na sa Bacolod!

Cory Aquino, Going Home

Going Home
by: Libera

Going Home, going home
I am going home
Quiet like, some still day...
I am going home

It’s not far, just close by
Through the open door

Work all done, care laid by
Never fear no more

Mother’s there expecting me
Father’s waiting too
Lots of faces gathered there
All the friends I knew

Ahh!!...

I’m just going home

No more fear
No more pain
No more stumbling by the way
No more longing for the day
Going to run no more

Morning star lights the way
Restless dreams all gone
Shadows gone, break of day
Real life has begun

There’s no break, there’s no end
Just living on

Wide awake, with a smile
Going on and on

Going home, going home
I am going home
Shadows gone, break of day
Real life has begun

Ahh!!!...

I am just going home.

A very sad and soulful song. This is my Tribute to the lady in yellow, Cory Aquino whose life and death fascinated Filipinos from all walks of life. Many saw Cory as a beacon of democracy. Others, she symbolized justice and peace after the tyrant's rule. For some, she epitomized the virtues of single parenthood, of being a mother, of being a widow. For me, she symbolized the last branch to be cut off from the Aquino children, and whose death can be palpably felt by the immediate family just like the loss of anyone's loved one.

Also, the melody of Libera's "Going Home" is lifted from Antonin Dvorak's New World Symphony particularly in the Adagio portion (2nd movement, part 1). Dvorak, that Czech emigre who worked at Carnegie Hall, is one of my most beloved composers along with Mozart, Haydn, Berlioz and Rossini. His New World Symphony is redolent with North American folktunes, Indian themes (think: Haiawatha and Sacajawea), and that palpable American optimism. Below is the original theme of "Going Home:"

Eggshells

For the past few years, I realize that people do change more because of the environment that has shaped them. Personalities, it seem, are as fluid as the ebbing of the tide- it may not be as apparent at first sight but if one looks into the minutiae of every action and intonation, one may detect a change in the way the wind blows.

Being introspective, I realized I had changed in which direction I cannot say right now. I learned how one becomes morose, more circumspect where one tends to have squashed whatever joie d’vivre is left. Of course it’s not an overnight learning. It’s the sum of all experiences that produces whatever effect one feels. From all the deaths and despair you see in the patients’ families, the emotional challenges brought about by your peers and consultants and the workload one has to bear has buffeted me into silent seclusion. While others become enlightened, others wind up defeated, others become obfuscated. It is as if we are the stones in the river being constantly battered by the strong currents. Life is like that. Forces outside our control shape us into that which we cannot recognize anymore.

Others would complain that their personality is consistent from Day 1. No one can say for sure one stays the same. It’s just not in the nature of the universe to remain in its axis. Everything proceeds according to the law of entropy where all systems are in constant flux. This, I feel, applies to people also but with a caveat that what is apparent is not entirely the whole picture. We do change but the rate of change depends on the person itself- to disguise it temporarily, to accept it entirely or to deny it endlessly. Many I know disguise these changes momentarily but Fate makes it difficult to sustain it just like food being retained in the mouth, one can't help but chew it and swallow.

According to James Clavell, the Japanese have three hearts: one that is shown to the public, one that the person only knows, and one that is secret. I guess that’s also true for humans. What you see is not what you get. What is merely shown is just the persona- not the person itself. One tends to cling to that which one thinks is rightly acceptable to the public face thereby creating shadows of our own design. By doing so, we become eggshells of our former selves. Gaston Leroux's Phantom is a personification of this. We try to preserve that previous persona while trying to understand and assimilate the new ideas and experiences we acquire. The smile one exudes or the gregarious manner one speaks may not be way he or she thinks. It is not being plastic. It our defense mechanism to compartmentalize these new changes while preserving the former ego so that the system could still function smoothly. Think of it as feeling of frustration of using Windows Vista because one is used on using Windows XP but you don't actually whack the CPU. Another example is when one tries to enjoy drinking and carousing late at night with the barkada but quickly loses interest in this former hobby because you’re already accustomed to the domesticated life.

However, we try our best that this change are not felt by others because we want to continue the present relationship we have with them. We don’t want to alienate them for we know if we shout at them a bit more or be sarcastic at them more often, we change the pulse of the moment thereby disrupting everyone’s harmony. It’s good if people try or do understand us. What if there are more who do not and take our change in personality at face value? We lose face in the process. That is why we put up these walls, these masks, these eggshells of our former selves- to protect our own ego from change.

Unfortunately, no matter how hard we try in putting up masks and fences, the inner gurglings of our hearts seep through the sheets staining them red or black where everyone can see it. Fate has that way of ferreting out the hidden aspect of your Self that in one unguarded moment, you fall flat on your face. For instance, one may feel that your voice doesn’t carry that certain friendliness despite whatever civility your words may imply. Or that despite your prudishness, you drop Freudian slips when referring to a certain person. No matter how hard we try hiding our hidden heart, it escapes our clutches for everyone to see.

That is the tragedy of it all. Where all the king's horses, and all the king's men, couldn't put Humpty together again.

Gerry Alanguilan's Elmer Set

One fateful afternoon, I arrived home happy to see that the package from Gerry Alanguilan had arrived. I took a cutter and carefully opened the box.


I was pretty much impressed on how much care and diligence the package was wrapped. It was neatly bubble-wrapped so that no matter how rough the transit was, the contents would arrive safe and sound.


Out came the box. From the outside, the product was indeed a product of love. No mediocrity here and the craftsmanship on which it was made was very much palpable.


I was anxious to open the Elmer box set probably because I was afraid that my fingers would smudge the box and the pages of the graphic novel. I hate having oily fingerprints all over the surface but I wouldn't go into extremes like gloving my hands as if I was in the Vatican Library. What makes this set more special is the fact that only 20 of these exist and yes, it was Filipino made. Thank you Gerry and Ilyn for offering such a unique item.

Hannibal Ibarra

Hannibal Ibarra, one of the preeminent artists in the realm of Philippine fantasy art, has been drawing and doing watercolors for years now focusing on the "world of faeries". I have been awestruck by its honesty and fluidity that I was compelled to snatch a couple of his superb artworks through connections in the net. He may not be as celebrated as the watercolorist Toti Cerda but all his works exude that originality and artistic quality befitting of someone's bedroom wall. There's no allusions in his subjects, no convoluted symbolisms ala Charlie Co, no pretensions whatsoever. The lines are clean and clear and the colors muted yet sublime. I can't imagine why his works are not that popular with Filipinos considering his technical acumen, probably because of the scarcity of his works in the market. Thus, his works are precious to those who appreciate komiks as an artform and those who are into Philippine pop culture.

The following blurb describes where his influences come from:

A self-proclaimed "fantasy artist", Hannibal is a very private person and doesn't want to disclose much of himself except that his artistic influences are Giambattista Tiepolo and Botong Francisco, and that he is currently a background animation artist working closely with Steve Gan (another veteran and famous komiks artist of the 1970's) in the animation field. What we have known so far from observation and further talks with him is that he is an Alex Niño and Meglia fan, will do only fantasy type comics stories (especially when there are fairies of which he claims to be enthusiastic and knowledgeable about), did some local komiks work wich he doesn't want to elaborate, probably out of frustration or embarassment or both, is into "New Age" thinking, and hopes to do artwork on stories for SIKLAB once his schedule frees him.

-http://www.angelfire.com/creep/tester0/Profiles/Hannibal.htm

The Book Blockade Scandal: A One Act Play

At an unnamed office inside Benecañang Castle...

Sec. Burgis: Esdilis, my beautiful secretary (even if you're indeed fortyish!) We need more money! Can you think of ways to increase our tax collection? Her Royal pain in the twat wants to have at least 25% rise in the collection so that she can have a bigger largess in the upcoming elections! More is better, I say!

Usec. Esdilis: Yes sir. Um... I think we need to follow up on our tax collections on our friend Ucioso Tan.

Sec. Burgis: (alarmed) What?? Him?? Why?

Usec. Esdilis: Because sir, from our records here, Ucioso Tan paid a mere 35% of the total taxes since 2002. The taxes we have been collecting from him mainly from the tobacco tax, the sin tax and the incise tax amounted only to P20 million, that is considering that the gross receipts is P10 billion. This is I think, sir, the largest loophole we need to cap.

Sec. Burgis: (more alarmed) Don't you dare imply that the department that has been feeding you and your family for the past 10 years has been remissed on collecting taxes! And more importantly, not on Ucioso Tan.

Usec Esdilis: (baffled) But why?

Sec. Burgis: Are you really that dumb as your coworkers say you are, huh? We can't collect the exact amount from Ucioso, not even from Lovit Seesaw, not from Whimelda Varcose, and certainly not from Boracay mansion owner Sherap Pisstrada. I agree that they have to pay a bigger share of the pie, but the truth is, Her royal pain in the twat said not to touch them. She said it's best for her administration not to rock the boat because I think she knows that if she did rock the boat, these people would have heaped a lot of problems on our heads. She wants them satiated inside their little petit bourgeois kingdoms partying, shopping and calculating their monies so that Her royal pain in the twat will have free reign to build up her own strong castle.

Usec Esdilis: If not for those idle rich crooks, from whom shall we get our collections from? You yourself said, sir, not to touch those smugglers from Cagayan Province and those Chinese importers in Divisoria. By the way sir, has Lily Hong paid you your cut from the Japanese chop-chops down in Laoag?

Sec. Burgis: Shush! Don't mention that to me. How about those books I hear?

Usec Esdilis: Oh! You mean the report by our customs examiner down south? But sir, the cut... I mean, our collections from that will be a pittance compared to the bigwigs!

Sec. Burgis: But still, don't you see? That is still something, isn't it?

Usec Esdilis: Barely. I don't understand why we should indulge in such a Pyrrhic enterprise!

Sec. Burgis: Naku! Pa-pyrrhic-pyrrhic ka pa! Use your head! Learn from our Binondo connections. Even if we only get a measly P10,000 from the total tax increase, it's still an increase, yes? An increase means more taxes that are being collected, yes? More taxes means that we're more efficient, no?

Usec Esdilis: I see your point sir.

Sec. Burgis: It's in the act of doing something even if you yourself know it won't amount to anything substantial. And if we send out a circular for an added book tax before the 30th, her Royal pain in the twat will see that we have done something concrete, something back-breaking. She will realize that her minister and her minister's minion are not lazy good-for-nothings who rubber stamp any paper that comes their way be it a contract or a wad of bills. You know what this means for us, my dear?

Usec Esdilis: A new bank account?

Sec. Burgis: No stupid! She will probably be so pleased that she will choose me as a candidate for her party's senatorial ticket.

Usec Esdilis: (puppy bulldog eyes) What about me?

Sec. Burgis: Of course I haven't forgetten you. You shall become my executive secretary. You will have a bigger office and you will have a phalanx of personnel at your every beck and call.

Usec Esdilis: (beaming) Wow! That is a fine idea sir! I can see myself taking a massage inside my office while my secretary's stirring my tea.

Sec. Burgis: Fine! Fantasize all you want! But if you don't get your fat lardy ass moving and work on that circular, you won't even have an office to go to! Remember, 2010 is election year!

Usec Esdilis: Ok sir, right you are! I'll finish the draft tonight and it shall be ready for signing tomorrow morning! (smiling) They won't know what will hit them!

Sec. Burgis: Oh Esdilis, make it subtle please? I don't want to stir a hornet's nest. This may seem trivial to you- hello? booksellers? They may be like those small-time peddlers in Recto and Avenida but bear in mind that the ones who will be affected more are the readers- readers with college degrees, readers who are already professionals like doctors, politicians, businessmen, journalists.... and leftist communists! Make it subtle, ok?

Usec Esdilis: But I don't know how sir!

Sec. Burgis: Are you not a lawyer yourself?

Usec Esdilis: (flushed) Ummm.... y-y-yes!

Sec. Burgis: Don't tell me that your University of Pateros Diploma is a fake? (eyes narrowing)

Usec Esdilis: Ummm... I have been great in college debates sir, and..

Sec. Burgis: (exasperated) No matter! I want you to use your mean-spirited logic and remaining intelligence to convince those book importers that this new tax is justifiable. Understand?

Usec Esdilis: I understand sir! I shall never ever ever fail you!

Sec. Burgis: Good. I know you will because you've never failed me in bed.

Usec Esdilis: (blushing) Oh! I don't know what you are talking about, sir!

Sec. Burgis: Perfect! Now, here are two books you may want to read before you write our new circular.

Usec Esdilis: Hmmm! 1984 by George Orwell and The Prince by Niccolo Machiavelli. Haven't heard of these books, probably pulp fiction from the 198os. Sir, this "Prince" book is the biography of that "Prince" singer, isn't it?

Sec. Burgis: You really are dumb! Now go, my dear and write that circular! Don't come to my office without the draft. Is that understood?

Usec Esdilis: Yes, sir. (Retreating towards the door).

Hence, the start of the Great Book Blockade of 2009.

The Illiterati & The Book Blockade

Thanks to Robin Hemley, he has brought to light an organization of shadow bureaucrats inside the Bureau of Customs more insidious that that of Dan Brown's Illuminati. They cloak themselves in cheap barongs and three-piece suits but actually they're sarcophageal worms in human forms. They call themselves, the "Illiterati" because all they do is obfuscate justice, corrupt laws for their own betterment and frustrate honest merchants by imposing ghost charges knowing full well that these sellers would rather settle than fight them to City Hall.

Unfortunately for the Illiterati whose minds are so narrowed that no new ideas (apart from those culled from the Dark Ages) could possible permeate through, have been dragged into the limelight when they started the 2009 Philippine Book Blockade. Little did they know that book-loving Filipinos will not take this intellectual insult without a fight. They will burn epitaphs of those who instigated this much like the Nuremberg book burning events and they will ask for the heads of the Illiteratis. I agree if this will come to this. It would be an enlightened notion if all book-loving Filipinos call for the resignation of a certain Customs examinee Rene Agulan and the irksome DOF Undersecretary Espele Sales who infamously implied that novels are non-educational. Perhaps the good Usec was very enthusiastic in displaying his God-given level of intelligence. In the dispatch of Robin Hemley, he wrote:

Customs Undersecretary Espele Sales explained the government's position to a group of frustrated booksellers and importers in an Orwellian PowerPoint presentation, at which she reinterpreted the Florence Agreement as well as Philippine law RA 8047, providing for "the tax and duty-free importation of books or raw materials to be used in book publishing." For lack of a comma after the word "books," the undersecretary argued that only books "used in book publishing" (her underlining) were tax-exempt.

"What kind of book is that?" one publisher asked me afterward. "A book used in book publishing." And she laughed ruefully.

I thought about it. Maybe I should start writing a few. Harry the Cultural and Educational Potter and His Fondness for Baskerville Type.

Likewise, with the Florence Agreement, she argued that only educational books could be considered protected by the U.N. treaty. Customs would henceforth be the arbiter of what was and wasn't educational.

"For 50 years, everyone has misinterpreted the treaty and now you alone have interpreted it correctly?" she was asked.

"Yes," she told the stunned booksellers.

Oh, the bile and the acid. Reading such inane logic as codified by the tenets of the Illiterati will infuriate any intelligient and sentient being. How these worms finished college remains a mystery. How they ended up in the top echelons of government is surprising. Well, not very surprising enough considering that the entire admistration may be full of Illiteratis- each department hiring their underlings and junior Illiteratis.

How this affair shall play out will be subject to further news articles and hopefully, more exposures against the cabal of Illiterati inside the Palace. And such is a great plot for Dan Brown, unless Customs get to tax it first.

http://www.abs-cbnnews.com/nation/05/11/09/rp-book-blockade-irks-miriam-senate-probe-sought

http://www.mcsweeneys.net/links/manila/1dispatch6.html

http://www.robinhemley.com/blog/index.html