These hands, gnarled as ancient oak
is gnarled, and a question.
The light streams into the room
in happy banners, making
long afternoon shadow,
dismissing the quiet. Surely
there should be noise, much gestures.
Light on my eyes, and I'm blinking
slowly.
What is all this
but passing motion?
Once, this stillness was absent
from the walls of this house.
I would bustle around my room,
arrange photos on a table,
fold clothes, write letters.
The heat of days spent
must have driven me
to such cool, friendly solitude,
to such age.
For Donald Justice
Javie, Waps, Joel
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Why Does Everybody Hate Me?
By Satan
I've tried, I really have, but nothing ever goes right for me. Everywhere I go, it's the same thing: people talking about me like I'm not even there, saying how terrible I am. Telling other people not to walk in my path. Urging that I be shunned and reviled, and commanding me in the name of all that is holy to get myself behind them. I swear, sometimes it seems like everybody thinks I'm the worst entity in creation.
I'm not that bad a guy, okay? I have my flaws, but I'll have you know I used to be considered quite the golden boy back in my day. Do you even know what the name Lucifer means? Depending on how it's translated, it can be "Bright And Shining One" or "Bringer Of Light," or all kinds of pretty names. I'm telling you, I was the fairest star in the firmament once. The only reason I even got kicked out Heaven in the first place is because I was more beautiful than God.
Yeah, well, now look at me. I can't even possess a lousy 10-year-old girl without some geezer in a white collar screaming "The power of Christ compels you!" in my face and insisting that I leave immediately. Look, I just want to connect with a human being for a little while! Levitate a few beds, spin a couple necks around, have some deep, throaty laughs. Is that so wrong? Everybody treats me like some kind of lowlife just because I'm the symbolic embodiment of all the evil in the universe.
Have you heard the things they call me? I can take a good-natured ribbing as much as the next guy, but some of these names are just so mean. Do you have any idea how it feels to be called the "Lord Of Lies"? Ouch. Look, I may be mankind's greatest fears and weaknesses made flesh, but my feelings can get hurt just like anybody else's. "Prince Of Darkness"? How would you feel if everybody called you "The Defiler," or "The Despoiler," or "The Unclean One"? It's not my fault that my terrifying visage erupts into suppurating boils when exposed to the holy light of truth and righteousness. It's hideous enough without people always needing to rub it in.
I'll bet I'm the most despised and hated being in the whole wide world. I even wrote a poem about it once in my creative-writing class, but when I read it out loud, everybody just laughed at me. I only took that class to make friends, but even the biggest dorks there reacted to my very presence with visceral repulsion. I'm telling you, I felt like the lowest of the low. The only way I could get anyone to talk to me was by promising this one guy I'd make his stupid legal thrillers into bestsellers in exchange for his immortal soul. Now he's had a string of hit movie adaptations and I'll bet I don't even hear word one from him until he shows up mewling and begging at the gateway to the underworld.
Oh sure, there are the occasional few who want to be my acolytes, but come on. I mean, have you seen these people? They're plain weird. Sure, they say that the reason they're into me is because they're rejecting society's small-minded notions of petty morality and embracing a world where "do as thou wilt" shall be the whole of the law, but it's pretty obvious that they're really just mad that nobody else in the corporeal realm wants anything to do with them.
I was sort of excited by the ones from the Norwegian black metal scene at first, though. I thought, "Finally, some worshippers who, if nothing else, at least have the balls to burn down a 900-year-old church." Some of them even had girlfriends. But that wore off pretty quick after I caught a few shows. For people who've supposedly sold their souls to the devil, these guys couldn't put together a tune for shit. I mean, I sure as hell didn't trade them any guitar skills down at the crossroads—or whatever the hell the Norwegian folklore equivalent would be—and from the sound of their records, nobody else did either. Let's just admit it—black metal is lame.
And while we're on the subject of my mortal followers, don't believe a word you hear about all these so-called "spawn of Satan"—that phrase gets thrown around quite a bit, but believe you me, most women won't even come near me. I guess I've never really known how to show affection. But I have needs too, you know! I just wish I could meet a nice virgin half-goat woman who totally gets me. But every time I get involved with a receptacle for my seed, it always ends badly.
The only person who understands me is my friend Gene. Sure, he knows I'm a mythical representation of all the tragic and self-defeating fallibility inherent in the human condition, but he doesn't judge me for it. Lately though, I hardly ever get to see him. Ever since he settled down, he's spending more and more time with his wife and kid. I know he's busy, but I miss him. He was an okay enough guy... not quite evil enough for my tastes, maybe, but an okay guy all the same.
Monday, November 28, 2005
Saturday, November 19, 2005
Friday, November 18, 2005
Lasang Bebel Gum!
"you're nothing but a second-rate, trying hard, '90s copycat! die, die!"
-- Big Bert
-------
Got this '80s Pop Quiz from the blog of Frank Cimatu for a book he is co-writing with Roland Tolentino on the Marcos Babies. Sige nga, sagutan n'yo.
1. Who was the woman in the Shell commercial that later starred in "Ang Boyfriend Kong Mamaw?"
2. What do the letters T.O.D.A.S. stand for?
3. Who was the host of "Spin-A-Win?"
4. What was the name of the soup that told viewers to "just add one egg?"
5. Who broke a piece of chalk and dipped it into fluoride for a Colgate ad?
6. One of Nino Muhlach's first films, this movie starred the child actor as a boy with the paranormal ability to control insects with his mind. What was this film?
7. If Randy Santiago was a "babaero," then who was the "pabling?"
8. Who played Lola Agueda on the soap "Flor de Luna?"
9. "Ito ay terrible, ito ay buhol-buhol." What TV show is this referring to?
10. Religious figures like American televangelist Rex Humbard and El Shaddai's Brother Mike Velarde have always flourished on Filipino TV, but none were weirder than the long-haired, bare-chested preacher who, while carrying a python around his neck, invited viewers to join him on his "Spaceship ET2000." Who was this man?
11. What was Vilma Santos's "cherished possession?"
12. An extremely talented guitarist, he was murdered just after his band released their much-praised first album. What was his name?
13. "That's the latest from PAG-ASA." This weatherman charmed viewers with his trademark sign-off -- and his heavily accented English -- on GMA-7's news program. Who was he?
14. One of the most wonderfully catchy advertisement jingles of the '80s was in a local ad for Chiclets: "Ang hilig ng bibig, Chiclets" -- then the kids would yell, "Chiclets!" -- followed by the unforgettable "Chicletin mo baby!" According to this jingle, what flavors of Chiclets were there?
15. Who loves you three times a day?
16. Our weekly motto ("Wala ka nang hahanapin pa") is the tagline for what product?
17. What was Kris Aquino's film debut?
18. The skin-crawling voiceover on Channel 13's "Pinoy Thriller" asked every week, "Ano ang nasa dakong paroon, bunga ng -- " What three-word phrase completed the line?
19. "Sa gabi siya'y bonggang-bongga." But in the morning, what did Annie Batungbakal do?
20. In one of the most often-told jokes of the past few decades, Alma Moreno goes to a McDonald's and orders a Big Mac and fries. When the cashier asks " For here or to go?" Alma answers -- what?
21. Dolphy, Chiquito, Balot, Palito, Pugo and Bentot are some one-named comedian names. What was Panchito's last name?
22. "That's the latest from PAG-ASA," the weatherman from Question 13 would say at the end of his weather segment. What was the last thing Inday Badiday would say at the end of "See-True?"
23. What candy, mixed with Sprite or 7-Up, was supposed to make you high?
24. On what U.S. sitcom was Eric Quizon and Redford White's TV show "Buddy en Sol" based?
25. For which basketball team did Billy Ray Bates first play?
26. Every tourist who goes to Baguio comes home with one of these tacky souvenirs: that wooden guy in a barrel with the disproportionately large and erect) appendage. What was the name of the film based on "the wooden guy" coming to life?
27. What was the name of the comic book character that was half-snake, half-man?
28. "May baril, walang bala; may bulsa, walang pera." Who is this referring to?
29. This California-based lite jazz pianist dedicated one of his compositions on a 1985 album to Ninoy Aquino. Who is he?
30. Where can you see the fried chicken on a 10-peso bill?
31. What was the theme song to the landmark film Bagets? 32. Who was it who said "Takot ako?"
33. Gelli, Claudine, Aga, Harlene, Rustom: One of these things are not like the others; which one is different, do you know? (And why?)
34. What animal is depicted on a Jack and Jill Chiz Curls package?
35. What did the cast members of "T.O.D.A.S." do at the end of every episode?
. What did the cast members of Palibhasa Lalaki do at the end of every episode?
37. In the film Tangga and Chos, which comedian, playing a gay hairdresser turned secret agent, starred in his first lead role, opposite Joey de Leon? (Hint: He is not Rene Requiestas.)
38. What is the exact recipe for "Star rice?"
39. You are a guy named Dingdong Avanzado, and you want to call up this girl whom you really miss. But you have no change in your pocket, so you ask some woman for change. How much money would the phone call cost?
40. What product tasted like "bebel gum?"
41. What were the exact three numbers that figured in the Pepsi contest scandal?
42. What is the number on Robert Jaworski's basketball jersey?
43. What brand of ballpoint pen "writes thousands and thousands of words?"
44. In one of the more bizarre rumors of its day, the fitting room (or elevator, or whatever) of this department store housed an enormous python (or a half-snake, half-man creature, or whatever) which preyed on customers. What was the name of this department store?
45. What do the letters "BLTB" stand for?
46. In his films with Rene Requiestas, Joey de Leon would sometimes adopt a particular sideways pose, combined with a slouch of the shoulders. He would then follow this pose with rapid-fire punches at an opponent. Which action star was he parodying?
47. Who was the karate action star that also played a Hitler-like superhero in action comedies?
48. Who's gonna "knock on your door, ring on your bell, tap on your window too"?
49. Ano 'yung tawag sa cartoon marathon sa channel 9 that included blackstar, jana of the jungle, superfriends?
50. Sino yung autobot na nagiging microscope?
51. Sinu-sino yung 13 members of the legion of doom?
52. What is the title of the classic horror movie that starred Lorna T, Rudy Fernandez, and George Estregan?
53. Sino yung laging kasama ni Chiquito sa mga movies n'ya? Eh si FPJ?
54. Sino yung dating hippie na new age preacher sa TV? Naka-afro pa at rose-tinted glasses yun.
55. Who were the three actors who starred in Alagad ni Kalantiao?
Monday, November 14, 2005
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Books of Lumad, Chapter II
Below is the second chapter of the sequel to my 1997 fantasy novelette, Pedro and the Lifeforce. I'm working day and night on this thing lately (while playing Civ IV on the side) for the NaNoWriMo project. Funny thing is, I don't even know how to submit to it. Ahehe.
-----------
Chapter II
SANTA INES
The trip took roughly seven hours, not counting the time Mr. Juliano had spent doubling back when he had followed the wrong exit at the superhighway. Or Raffy’s frequent craving for snacks and his mom’s persistence on finding the most potent mosquito repellent. Mr. Juliano seemed pleased when he found a copy of the most recent edition of The Philippine Provincial Traveler.
It had been a long and tiring journey, and Raffy was feeling really sick, having had nothing else to do but endure his parents’ unending ranting and complaining.
"What's with ethnic bands today, anyway?” huffed Mr. Juliano. “They rely too much on electronic instruments. Honey, don’t you just miss the days when ‘ethnic’ meant ‘natural-sounding’?" The radio was tuned in to a local ethnic music station. As if on cue, Mr. Juliano ceremoniously turned the volume way down.
“But Dad, maybe some people just don't like bamboo flutes as much as you do,” Raffy offered. He actually meant the statement for himself, as he was particularly fond of the native flute. His Lola Adiang had sent him a hupip a few years back. It was a small wooden flute adorned with intricate feather carvings on the sides. He had immediately liked the instrument and had learned to play it by himself, much to his surprise.
And he just loved the melody that came out of it. He knew no other instrument that he could play so well as the hupip. Whenever he put it in his mouth, the rising, lilting music seemed to just come out beautifully. Even his teachers in school would smile and nod their heads whenever he played.
The ride became rough and bumpy as they drew nearer to Santa Ines. The main provincial highway had given way to an uneven stretch of loose gravel and dirt roads. Despite Mr. Juliano's careful (and, for Raffy, achingly slow) driving, the car lurched regularly along the rutted path, spewing dust and pebbles as it went.
The shadows were already lengthening as they entered the barrio. A fantastically gnarled acacia tree welcomed the Juliano family as the car nudged itself into the barrio. Raffy noticed a fading stone marker beside the dusty road, almost overrun by wild cogon grass. Santa Ines, it read.
An assortment of trees hugged the roadside, all brimming with fruits. Ripened and rotting ones likewise littered the ground. If Raffy found this strange, Mr. Juliano didn’t seem to notice. He just swerved the car left and right, trying in vain to avoid the fallen fruits. He began rattling off the trees’ names as they passed them, pointing with a free hand: mangga, santol, bayabas, langka, macopa.
“Never you mind those rotting fruits,” Mr. Juliano said, making a wet, smacking sound with his lips. “You’ll get to eat plenty of them during the summer. Sonia, remind me to ask Inay to get us a basketful.”
“What for?” his wife said. “You plan on taking jackfruits to Australia?”
“Bah! Never mind, never mind...” Mr. Juliano replied. “Hey, we’re almost there, Raffy.”
The road narrowed further into a dirt path wide enough for only a single vehicle to pass. They had to slide to the embankment as a carabao cart passed, moving the other way. Raffy could have sworn the carabao had winked at him.
Raffy could now see a line of thatched-roofed houses, all standing next to small vegetable patches. Like the fruit-bearing trees, the patches were riddled with vegetables.
Mr. Juliano squinted at one of the houses. He stopped the car abruptly and rolled down his window. “Hoy, Mang Juling!” he hollered to an old man sitting lazily by the doorstep, busy stroking a rooster.
The chicken cackled, gave a sidelong glance at Raffy, and said: Am farm animal! Not good at sabong!
Raffy jumped in his seat, his head hitting the roof with a thud.
“Mom, mom! The rooster’s...” he started, but his mother hushed him, her eyes on the approaching old man.
Mr. Juliano poked his head out the window. “Magandang hapon po, Mang Juling. How've you been? It’s been a long time. How's the game at the cockpit?”
The man paused thoughtfully and scratched his balding head. He hesitated before pointing to a nearby acacia tree: “I think the house of the kapitana is just over there, beyond that strange tree. Yes, she's there, I know it. Which reminds me: I have to see her! I need to borrow something.”
There was a glazed look in the old man's eyes. He was puffing generously on his glowing pipe. His gaze wandered off to the side of his house. Quite a few deep yellow and bulging pumpkins were sitting on his vegetable patch.
"Well, yes. Those would make for quite a pinakbet, Mang Juling," Mrs. Juliano said. The old man paid no mind and proceeded to ruffle his rooster's feathers. Then he turned away, the rooster locked in his arms still cackling. Am farm animal! Am farm animal!
"That's funny,” Mr. Juliano said, “Mang Juling didn't recognize me at all. How can that be? He used to take me to cockfights when I was growing up here!”
“Well, his eyes must be getting poorer," offered Mrs. Juliano.
They rode around the large acacia and came to a large two-storey house surrounded by a yard full of vegetable patches. It was already the tallest structure in the area, and certainly looked like it was one of the oldest. The walls of the first floor were made of concrete, and painted clumsily in green, contrasting with the wooden second floor. Raffy thought the house looked like an upside down tree.
They parked the car beside the fence of clustered santan plants.
“Now dear, no need to feel nervous,” said Mr. Juliano as he turned off the engine. “The past is the past. Just smile and try to be courteous.”
“Don’t mind me, Ramon,” Mrs. Juliano said, stepping out of the car. Raffy followed. They began walking toward the house, following a dirt path in the front yard.
“Ramon! Let’s go!” hissed Mrs. Juliano.
“Uh, okay dear, coming.” said Mr. Juliano, though his hands were still glued on the steering wheel.
A woman’s head appeared from one of the open Capiz-shell windows on the second floor. “Oh! There you are!” she shouted.
The next moment, the woman was rushing along the path to meet them, her hands lifting the hem of her long batik skirt like one would the reins of a horse. A trail of dust followed her. She seemed very athletic; the next moment she was there, hugging Raffy and peppering his chubby face with a series of wet kisses. She then began pinching and pinching the boy’s cheeks, all the while sporting a broad grin on her face. Raffy hugged back, knowing at once that this was Lola Adiang.
Finally, just when Raffy thought his cheeks would explode, his lola let go. She held Raffy’s shoulders with both hands and examined his face, all the while chuckling. She looked spiffy for her age. The only things that betrayed her age were the pair of lightweight glasses she was wearing and the trace of crow’s feet extending to her temples as she smiled. “How are you, my dear Rafael! How you’ve grown!”
“It’s Raffy, Lola,” he started.
“Bah! Rafael sounds more manly!” his grandmother replied with a chuckle. “Hey, did you get the hupip I sent you? You know, I had to walk to the highway and stop the bus just so I can send that to you! Well, the driver was not so agreeable at first, but...”
“I have it with me, Lola,” Raffy beamed, pulling out the hupip from one pocket.
“And he can really play, Inay,” added Mrs. Juliano.
Aling Adiang seemed to just notice Mrs. Juliano was there. She laughed aloud, hugging her daughter-in-law. “Sonia, it’s so good to see you.”
“It’s nice to see you too, mother. Where’s Itay?”
The bangles on Aling Adiang’s wrist clinked as she brought an unlit cigar to her mouth. “He’s inside. That old man’s not feeling so well these days. Will tell you all about it later. Now, where’s my darn son?”
Mr. Juliano had just stepped out of the car and was now tentatively inching his way down the path.
“Ramon!” hollered Lola Adiang. “Come here, you little rascal! What, afraid I might hit you?”
She smiled anew, crow’s feet showing as she hugged her son. Mr. Juliano was on the verge of tears. He held the back of his mother’s hand presently, bringing it to his forehead. He then poked Raffy’s shoulders and nudged him to do the same. "Er, mano po, Lola."
“Well. It’s hardly time for all this,” said Aling Adiang, wiping her face. “The sun’s almost gone and I’m sure you are all starving.”
Raffy nodded vigorously in spite of himself.
“Very good, Rafael. Come on, let's go inside. Your Lolo Enteng’s waiting. I've got something prepared for you after you've freshened up.”
“Is Itay still angry at me? Is that why he didn’t come down to meet us?” asked Mr. Juliano weakly.
“Your father’s not himself these days, Ramon.” replied Aling Adiang, her voice betraying a genuine concern.
“He’s not sick, mind you,” when she noticed Mr. Juliano’s look of worry. “Just getting forgetful. I’m sure he’d be happy to see you. Like I often say, the past is the past.”
When they entered the house, the stink of animal dung assaulted Raffy’s senses. He almost gagged. The first floor served as a bodega, filled with stacks of hay and piled sacks of fertilizer and boxes. In the middle were a few old wooden chairs and a table. Raffy surmised this was where his kapitana lola held her meetings. Through the open door at the back, Raffy coud see a large enclosed area for animals in the backyard.
“Pay no mind to the smell,” offered Aling Adiang, running across the floor to close the back door. “In any case, the goats have disappeared to God knows where. One moment they were there, the next they’ve all gone!”
Her voiced trailed into gibberish. She sighed presently. “Well. Let’s all head on upstairs,” she said leading them to a worn-out staircase behind one of huge pile of boxes.
The food on the table was good enough for a small feast. Lola Adiang had prepared a variety of delicacies: sinigang, menudo, adobo, and some other viands Raffy didn’t know.
"No fish, of course,” said Aling Adiang. “The darn river’s polluted now. There should be kalderetang kambing, but, like I’ve said, our goats have disappeared. It’s been two weeks now. Even the neighbors' goats are missing, too. When I get my hands on those animal rustlers..."
“No need to worry, Inay,” said Mrs. Juliano. "This food’s too much,” said Mrs. Juliano.
“Nonsense! My kaldereta’s the finest, most sumptuous in Santa Ines!” said Aling Adiang.
"I'm sure we can take home the leftovers,” offered Mr. Juliano with a sheepish grin. “And Raffy, I’m sure your vacation wouldn’t be complete until you’ve tasted Inay’s famous kaldereta, but she’s not the best cook in the province for nothing! Let’s all eat!"
Mr. Juliano was right. The meal his lola had prepared was the best meal he had had in a long time. He thought if there was anything to keep him really happy throughout this vacation, it was the thought of his lola's cooking.
A wheezing sound came from one end of the table. "What's wrong, Itay?" asked Mr. Juliano. He was instantly on his feet, proceeding to rub his father’s back. Mang Enteng was coughing, bits of food sticking around his mouth.
Mrs. Juliano handed a glass of water to Lolo Enteng who pushed it away. "Itay, drink some water. You might choke."
"Whaaat? Who are you?" said the old man.
"Itay, It’s Sonia, remember? I'm your daughter-in-law. I already told you earlier," Mrs. Juliano replied, sounding hurt.
Lolo Enteng only gave her a bewildered look and wiped his mouth carelessly. Nobody spoke afterwards. When Mang Enteng finished his meal, he left the table without a word. Raffy wondered what had happened. His lolo had not recognized any of them, including his father.
Lola Adiang called the family aside after dinner. "Please understand that he’s not angry at any of you. He just doesn’t recognize anybody; even me, in fact. Well, maybe his cockpit friends...”
“He’s been like this for quite some time now. He's having trouble remembering things. I've had the doctor from the distant town examine him, but he had found nothing wrong with him. The doctor says he's quite healthy for a sixty year-old."
"But it's too early for Itay to be ulyanin," said a worried Mr. Juliano.
The family had retired to the available rooms. There was no electricity in Sta. Ines, and this bothered Raffy a lot. Already, he had already missed an episode of his favorite cartoon series. He would have to think up of other things to do, especially at night.
Right now, Raffy was getting really bored. He opened his window to let the air in. With a sigh, he unpacked his hupip and started playing a tune. Playing the flute helped him relax.
Raffy looked out into the moonlit yard, toward the silhouettes of the huge acacia tree outside. The notes from his hupip rose up sharp and clear in the surrounding silence. Quite suddenly, he saw a pair of piercing light sparkling from the thick branches.
He stared intently, puzzled, until his eyes got accustomed to the darkness. From the pale moonlight, he could swear that the light came from the eyes of a large black hawk with a stray tuft of white feather on its head. Its penetrating eyes were on him, unblinking. The hawk tilted its head presently and opened its beak.
So here you are, finally--little man!
Then next instant, Raffy thought he heard the sound of mild laughter and wild whistling of wings. Then the bird had gone.
Raffy hurriedly closed the window and hid his face under the sheets. For a long time he lay in bed shaking and frightened, wondering what the bird meant. He lay there for a long time before drifting into a troubled sleep.
* * *
Raffy woke to the harsh sound of metal on wood. He slid his window open to see a frail-looking boy chopping wood with a huge, rusty axe. Raffy thought the axe should be too heavy to wield, but the boy didn’t seem to mind. While the boy didn’t look like he’s enjoying the work, he didn’t seem to look tired.
At last, someone to play with, Raffy thought. He hastily fixed the bed and was about to go downstairs to take a closer look when he heard his lola hollering for breakfast.
"Good morning, Raffy. You’ve overslept a little, huh? Come, come--we have salted eggs, fried rice, fresh fruits, and suman. There's also some carabao milk from Mang Pulding.” Lola Adiang was turning over the plates and pouring milk in the glasses. "It's going to be a busy day today. There will be a town meeting here at ten-thirty."
Raffy sat down and rubbed his eyes. He looked out the window and noticed that their car was gone. “What time did mom and dad leave, Lola?”
“Very early, dear—around four o'clock. They didn't wake you up anymore because they thought you were exhausted from the journey and needed rest,” Lola Adiang said, fanning some flies away from the food.
"They should've let me say goodbye,” Raffy said, frowning.
"They seemed to be in a big hurry, especially your dad," his lola offered. Raffy sat down to eat, saying nothing.
Just then the boy Raffy had seen outside came in and sat on the chair beside him. He looked more fragile and sickly up close and was quite small compared to Raffy’s heft. His skin was almost as pale as carabao’s milk. He smiled weakly at Raffy before reaching for a suman.
The boy unwrapped and dipped the roll of sticky rice in a bowl of sugar with thin, pale hands. Raffy wondered if the boy could eat as much as he does.
"He's your cousin Agoy," Lola Adiang said before Raffy could ask. “As you might
have noticed, he's rather shy, but really does much of the chores around the house.”
“Hi, Agoy. What a weird name,” Raffy said, extending his hand. He casually withdrew it when Agoy didn't seem to know what to do with it.
"Like I’ve said, he's the shy type," whispered Lola Adiang. "But I think you two will get along fine.”
Soon after they finished their breakfast, a handful of people began coming in. Lola Adiang waited for a few more minutes for the others to arrive, but very few showed up. She looked at the few people who were attending the town meeting before stomping her feet in disgust.
"Where is Juling and the rest? They know quite well how important these meetings are! A kapitana can only do so much for the affairs of Santa Ines. I need all the help I can get!”
Nobody seemed to have anything to say. Lola Adiang scanned the blank faces of the people and swore beneath her teeth. She sighed and looked at her notes. “Well, never mind, never mind. To start things off, let’s talk about the lost goats..."
Those who came to the meeting seemed more lost than Raffy initially imagined. Whenever Lola Adiang would ask them for their opinions, they would just shrug and say something incoherent. It was as if their minds had wandered off someplace else. Lola Adiang was turning red with anger when a few suddenly spoke up.
"Kapitana, Can you lend me a few cavans of rice? I can see you've had a good harvest this season," said one woman.
"Can I have a sack of potatoes, please?" said another.
"Please loan me a basket of mangoes please," said another man.
"I've lost my carabao, kapitana!" cried Mang Pulding.
"What the--what are you all talking about?” Lola Adiang managed to spit out her tobacco in disbelief. “Have you really lost your minds? Check your crops! The trees are teeming with fruits and your vegetables rotting in your yards! What's wrong all of you?"
“Kapitana, please help us,” cried everybody in unison, as if they did not hear what Lola Adiang was saying. The kapitana eventually lost her temper, spewing forth curses.
She threw them out her house.
“What happened to them, Lola? They were acting really strange,” Raffy offered, as her lola bolted the door shut.
“I don’t know Raffy. It seems like they’ve really lost their minds. I have to find out the meaning of all this. Something’s very wrong here.” From the upstairs window, they watched the people walk out of the yard, wandering aimlessly in all sorts of directions, like they’ve forgotten even where they live.
“They are acting like zombies, lola,” Raffy said.
“Hmmm...They are acting like your lolo,” said Lola Adiang, scratching her chin. “I tell you, dear, something’s gotten into them. The whole townsfolk seem to have lost their common senses. Well, at least, they’re not causing any trouble. But I’ll find out what’s causing this soon enough.”
“Now,” Lola Adiang said, her face finally breaking into a smile, revealing tobacco-stained teeth. “How about I prepare merienda for you and Agoy”
* * *
For the next few days of his stay in Sta. Ines, Raffy didn't venture outside much, but with Agoy patiently instructing him, he discovered fun outdoor activities like catching spiders and frogs and scooping fireflies at dusk.
Agoy was hesitant at first to talk and play with Raffy, but Lola Adiang had insisted that he watch over Raffy at all times. Raffy found this funny, since he felt he was the one taking care of his meek cousin most of the time. But for all his shyness, Agoy seemed to know his way around the barrio very well, never complaining aloud and always willing to wander into the farms.
By the end of the week, they seemed to have become the best of friends. They would go climbing trees and raiding the neighborhood vegetable farms. At first Raffy did not like the idea of stealing, but when they managed to snatch the biggest cabbage right under Mang Ruben’s nose, they slowly made a habit of bringing all sorts of
crops in the house. They were able to convince their lola, who would stay up late scanning her notes, that they were presents from the townsfolk. In any case, Lola Adiang seemed to be very busy taking care of Lolo Enteng and visiting the neighbors to care.
Agoy generously gave in to Raffy’s every whim, so there wasn’t much to complain about. While Raffy just didn't like his cousin's perennial silence much, he perceived this to be typical dullness on the provincial boy's part. After all, he told himself, I’m the one who grew up in the city.
When the day of the next town meeting arrived, it was very much like the previous meeting, only with even less people. Again, the townsfolk had nothing much to say except that they needed something from Lola Adiang, who was by then chain-smoking her tobacco, all red in the face.
"You know what I think, dear?” she said during lunchtime, after not-so-politely shooing away the visitors, “I’m thinking it’s that blasted smog building up just beyond the river. Have you seen it? Look there.”
Raffy watched the looming dark cloud hovering in the horizon, past the thick line of trees that their lola forbade him to venture into. It looked like rain clouds, but it did not appear to moving at all. Beside him, Agoy cringed and looked away.
“It’s contaminating the soil and polluting the water. It’s most likely the reason why fruits and vegetables are all growing at an unnatural rate!” declared Lola Adiang, as if she had already found this to be true.
To add to Lola Adiang's endless worries, Lolo Enteng woke up one morning crying like a baby, complaining about a terrible aching in his joints. Lolo Adiang tried applying root herbs and coconut oil, but Lolo Enteng just howled in pain and shoved her away. Even with Raffy and Agoy helping, their lolo would just kick and flail his arms.
They managed to apply the oil when Lolo Enteng finally fell asleep, but only to be rudely awakened in the middle of night with the same howling and crying.
"Now, that’s a really bad case of rheumatism,” Lola Adiang said grumpily early the next day, wearing her boots and readying a pack of tobaccos. “What your lolo needs is a drink of the boiled juice of the pansit-pansitan plant. Sure way to cure this. But it only grows near the banks of the river. And I’ve to go get it. I’ll be back before nightfall.”
"Can we go with you, Lola?" asked Raffy.
"No, you boys just stay here and look after your lolo. Besides, like I’ve said, the forest between the river and Santa Ines is a dangerous place. I know the way, but I don’t want to be taking care of two people on my way there. The sooner I get the plant, the better."
"But Lola..."
"No buts, Rafael. Just stay put and look after your lolo."
* * *
It turned out to be a really long day. By lunchtime, the two boys found out that their lolo was missing. They scoured the entire barrio but couldn’t find him. They were about to give up when they heard raucous sound of laughter coming from Mang Juling’s house. They were only too surprised to find his lolo and several townsfolk having a small sabong in Mang Juling’s sala.
“Lolo! Aren’t you sick? Lola had to find pansit-pansitan for your rheumatism. She won’t like it when she finds you here,” Raffy said.
“Whaaat? Who’s sick? Who are you?” Lolo Enteng replied, genuinely surprised at Raffy and Agoy’s presence.
“It’s Raffy and Agoy, lolo, remember?” Raffy said, not at all surprised.
“Er, are you sure you’re my grandson? Who are you?”
“Uh, who are you?” echoed one of the men in the room, not looking at anyone in particular. Then someone else repeated the question, until all the men in the room were chanting the same lines, pointing their fingers on everybody else, all in all making a mild commotion. One was pointing at himself as he asked; Mang Juling was addressing the question to his rooster.
The rooster now stared sideways at Raffy with what he could swear was one reprimanding eye.
Who are you? Who are you? Am farm animal!
Raffy jumped in fright and pushed Agoy forward. To his surprise, Agoy seemed to have momentarily lost his shyness. He stepped up boldly and composed himself.
“Lolo Enteng!” Agoy shouted, his keening voice rising above the din of chants.
Everybody suddenly fell silent. “Lolo,” Agoy continued, his voice coming back to its usual soft tone. “Let’s go home or Lola Adiang will surely get mad at you.”
When Lolo Enteng heard his wife’s name, a glint of recognition seemed to pass over him. His face winced and he began crying. Everybody else in the room seemed to have either recognized their kapitana’s name or just taken the cue from Lolo Enteng. Soon everyone was sobbing wildly.
The boys had to half-drag, half-carry their lolo back to the house. But while Lolo Enteng bawled like a baby, he did not resist. When they finally got him to bed, Lolo Enteng quickly fell asleep, a trace of a smile on his face. Raffy and Agoy stayed with him, both of them exhausted and full of questions.
Afternoon moved into early evening, but Lola Adiang didn't come back. The boys nervously watched the silhouette of the distant forest disappear into blackness, but their lola still didn’t return. They ate dinner silently and fed their lolo, who seemed to be in a peculiarly jovial mood. They stayed up late into the night, their heads poking out the window, looking for any sign that their lola had arrived.
“I’m scared, Raffy,” said Agoy.
“Don’t worry. Lola will be back soon. Maybe she just had a hard time looking for the plant. I’m sure she’s on her way back. She knows the woods; she won’t get lost.” Raffy wasn’t convinced by his own words.
“But what if—“
“I said she’ll be back!” Raffy said harshly. And nothing more was said.
Raffy was determined to keep awake until his lola arrived but his eyes began to feel droopy and he eventually fell into a fitful sleep beside the window.
* * *
He was rudely awakened by Agoy; his ears were at once assaulted by the wailing noise of Lolo Enteng, who was once again complaining about his bones. “Raffy, wake up. Lola still hasn’t returned.”
“What?” Raffy said, jumping from his bed. “She said she’ll be back by nightfall. Something must really have gone wrong.”
“What do we do now?” said Agoy.
“We need to look for her,” replied Raffy.
“Let’s ask the neighbors for help,” offered Agoy.
“Are you kidding? They don’t even know who they are! We have to do this on our own.”
“But who’ll take care of lolo? Lola said we shouldn’t leave him. And he seems to be in great pain,” said Agoy.
“I have an idea which just might work,” said Raffy. “Go get dressed.”
The boys hurriedly brought their lolo to Mang Juling’s house. When they got there, they found most of the men again attempting to play sabong. And, as Raffy had expected, Lolo Enteng’s rheumatism seemed to have vanished the moment he got inside the house.
The sight of the men laughing, clapping their hands, and prodding their roosters to fight each other looked really strange to Raffy, especially because the animals didn’t seem to be interested at all in fighting. The men all squatted in the small sala and watched the chickens scratching the floor and flapping their wings.
“They should keep lolo preoccupied for a while,” Raffy whispered as he stepped
outside, dragging Agoy with him. He didn’t want to stay too long with the animals; he felt they would start talking to him again the next moment.
“Where do we start?” Agoy asked presently.
“Where else?” Raffy retorted. “We have to follow the path to the forest.”
-----------
Chapter II
SANTA INES
The trip took roughly seven hours, not counting the time Mr. Juliano had spent doubling back when he had followed the wrong exit at the superhighway. Or Raffy’s frequent craving for snacks and his mom’s persistence on finding the most potent mosquito repellent. Mr. Juliano seemed pleased when he found a copy of the most recent edition of The Philippine Provincial Traveler.
It had been a long and tiring journey, and Raffy was feeling really sick, having had nothing else to do but endure his parents’ unending ranting and complaining.
"What's with ethnic bands today, anyway?” huffed Mr. Juliano. “They rely too much on electronic instruments. Honey, don’t you just miss the days when ‘ethnic’ meant ‘natural-sounding’?" The radio was tuned in to a local ethnic music station. As if on cue, Mr. Juliano ceremoniously turned the volume way down.
“But Dad, maybe some people just don't like bamboo flutes as much as you do,” Raffy offered. He actually meant the statement for himself, as he was particularly fond of the native flute. His Lola Adiang had sent him a hupip a few years back. It was a small wooden flute adorned with intricate feather carvings on the sides. He had immediately liked the instrument and had learned to play it by himself, much to his surprise.
And he just loved the melody that came out of it. He knew no other instrument that he could play so well as the hupip. Whenever he put it in his mouth, the rising, lilting music seemed to just come out beautifully. Even his teachers in school would smile and nod their heads whenever he played.
The ride became rough and bumpy as they drew nearer to Santa Ines. The main provincial highway had given way to an uneven stretch of loose gravel and dirt roads. Despite Mr. Juliano's careful (and, for Raffy, achingly slow) driving, the car lurched regularly along the rutted path, spewing dust and pebbles as it went.
The shadows were already lengthening as they entered the barrio. A fantastically gnarled acacia tree welcomed the Juliano family as the car nudged itself into the barrio. Raffy noticed a fading stone marker beside the dusty road, almost overrun by wild cogon grass. Santa Ines, it read.
An assortment of trees hugged the roadside, all brimming with fruits. Ripened and rotting ones likewise littered the ground. If Raffy found this strange, Mr. Juliano didn’t seem to notice. He just swerved the car left and right, trying in vain to avoid the fallen fruits. He began rattling off the trees’ names as they passed them, pointing with a free hand: mangga, santol, bayabas, langka, macopa.
“Never you mind those rotting fruits,” Mr. Juliano said, making a wet, smacking sound with his lips. “You’ll get to eat plenty of them during the summer. Sonia, remind me to ask Inay to get us a basketful.”
“What for?” his wife said. “You plan on taking jackfruits to Australia?”
“Bah! Never mind, never mind...” Mr. Juliano replied. “Hey, we’re almost there, Raffy.”
The road narrowed further into a dirt path wide enough for only a single vehicle to pass. They had to slide to the embankment as a carabao cart passed, moving the other way. Raffy could have sworn the carabao had winked at him.
Raffy could now see a line of thatched-roofed houses, all standing next to small vegetable patches. Like the fruit-bearing trees, the patches were riddled with vegetables.
Mr. Juliano squinted at one of the houses. He stopped the car abruptly and rolled down his window. “Hoy, Mang Juling!” he hollered to an old man sitting lazily by the doorstep, busy stroking a rooster.
The chicken cackled, gave a sidelong glance at Raffy, and said: Am farm animal! Not good at sabong!
Raffy jumped in his seat, his head hitting the roof with a thud.
“Mom, mom! The rooster’s...” he started, but his mother hushed him, her eyes on the approaching old man.
Mr. Juliano poked his head out the window. “Magandang hapon po, Mang Juling. How've you been? It’s been a long time. How's the game at the cockpit?”
The man paused thoughtfully and scratched his balding head. He hesitated before pointing to a nearby acacia tree: “I think the house of the kapitana is just over there, beyond that strange tree. Yes, she's there, I know it. Which reminds me: I have to see her! I need to borrow something.”
There was a glazed look in the old man's eyes. He was puffing generously on his glowing pipe. His gaze wandered off to the side of his house. Quite a few deep yellow and bulging pumpkins were sitting on his vegetable patch.
"Well, yes. Those would make for quite a pinakbet, Mang Juling," Mrs. Juliano said. The old man paid no mind and proceeded to ruffle his rooster's feathers. Then he turned away, the rooster locked in his arms still cackling. Am farm animal! Am farm animal!
"That's funny,” Mr. Juliano said, “Mang Juling didn't recognize me at all. How can that be? He used to take me to cockfights when I was growing up here!”
“Well, his eyes must be getting poorer," offered Mrs. Juliano.
They rode around the large acacia and came to a large two-storey house surrounded by a yard full of vegetable patches. It was already the tallest structure in the area, and certainly looked like it was one of the oldest. The walls of the first floor were made of concrete, and painted clumsily in green, contrasting with the wooden second floor. Raffy thought the house looked like an upside down tree.
They parked the car beside the fence of clustered santan plants.
“Now dear, no need to feel nervous,” said Mr. Juliano as he turned off the engine. “The past is the past. Just smile and try to be courteous.”
“Don’t mind me, Ramon,” Mrs. Juliano said, stepping out of the car. Raffy followed. They began walking toward the house, following a dirt path in the front yard.
“Ramon! Let’s go!” hissed Mrs. Juliano.
“Uh, okay dear, coming.” said Mr. Juliano, though his hands were still glued on the steering wheel.
A woman’s head appeared from one of the open Capiz-shell windows on the second floor. “Oh! There you are!” she shouted.
The next moment, the woman was rushing along the path to meet them, her hands lifting the hem of her long batik skirt like one would the reins of a horse. A trail of dust followed her. She seemed very athletic; the next moment she was there, hugging Raffy and peppering his chubby face with a series of wet kisses. She then began pinching and pinching the boy’s cheeks, all the while sporting a broad grin on her face. Raffy hugged back, knowing at once that this was Lola Adiang.
Finally, just when Raffy thought his cheeks would explode, his lola let go. She held Raffy’s shoulders with both hands and examined his face, all the while chuckling. She looked spiffy for her age. The only things that betrayed her age were the pair of lightweight glasses she was wearing and the trace of crow’s feet extending to her temples as she smiled. “How are you, my dear Rafael! How you’ve grown!”
“It’s Raffy, Lola,” he started.
“Bah! Rafael sounds more manly!” his grandmother replied with a chuckle. “Hey, did you get the hupip I sent you? You know, I had to walk to the highway and stop the bus just so I can send that to you! Well, the driver was not so agreeable at first, but...”
“I have it with me, Lola,” Raffy beamed, pulling out the hupip from one pocket.
“And he can really play, Inay,” added Mrs. Juliano.
Aling Adiang seemed to just notice Mrs. Juliano was there. She laughed aloud, hugging her daughter-in-law. “Sonia, it’s so good to see you.”
“It’s nice to see you too, mother. Where’s Itay?”
The bangles on Aling Adiang’s wrist clinked as she brought an unlit cigar to her mouth. “He’s inside. That old man’s not feeling so well these days. Will tell you all about it later. Now, where’s my darn son?”
Mr. Juliano had just stepped out of the car and was now tentatively inching his way down the path.
“Ramon!” hollered Lola Adiang. “Come here, you little rascal! What, afraid I might hit you?”
She smiled anew, crow’s feet showing as she hugged her son. Mr. Juliano was on the verge of tears. He held the back of his mother’s hand presently, bringing it to his forehead. He then poked Raffy’s shoulders and nudged him to do the same. "Er, mano po, Lola."
“Well. It’s hardly time for all this,” said Aling Adiang, wiping her face. “The sun’s almost gone and I’m sure you are all starving.”
Raffy nodded vigorously in spite of himself.
“Very good, Rafael. Come on, let's go inside. Your Lolo Enteng’s waiting. I've got something prepared for you after you've freshened up.”
“Is Itay still angry at me? Is that why he didn’t come down to meet us?” asked Mr. Juliano weakly.
“Your father’s not himself these days, Ramon.” replied Aling Adiang, her voice betraying a genuine concern.
“He’s not sick, mind you,” when she noticed Mr. Juliano’s look of worry. “Just getting forgetful. I’m sure he’d be happy to see you. Like I often say, the past is the past.”
When they entered the house, the stink of animal dung assaulted Raffy’s senses. He almost gagged. The first floor served as a bodega, filled with stacks of hay and piled sacks of fertilizer and boxes. In the middle were a few old wooden chairs and a table. Raffy surmised this was where his kapitana lola held her meetings. Through the open door at the back, Raffy coud see a large enclosed area for animals in the backyard.
“Pay no mind to the smell,” offered Aling Adiang, running across the floor to close the back door. “In any case, the goats have disappeared to God knows where. One moment they were there, the next they’ve all gone!”
Her voiced trailed into gibberish. She sighed presently. “Well. Let’s all head on upstairs,” she said leading them to a worn-out staircase behind one of huge pile of boxes.
The food on the table was good enough for a small feast. Lola Adiang had prepared a variety of delicacies: sinigang, menudo, adobo, and some other viands Raffy didn’t know.
"No fish, of course,” said Aling Adiang. “The darn river’s polluted now. There should be kalderetang kambing, but, like I’ve said, our goats have disappeared. It’s been two weeks now. Even the neighbors' goats are missing, too. When I get my hands on those animal rustlers..."
“No need to worry, Inay,” said Mrs. Juliano. "This food’s too much,” said Mrs. Juliano.
“Nonsense! My kaldereta’s the finest, most sumptuous in Santa Ines!” said Aling Adiang.
"I'm sure we can take home the leftovers,” offered Mr. Juliano with a sheepish grin. “And Raffy, I’m sure your vacation wouldn’t be complete until you’ve tasted Inay’s famous kaldereta, but she’s not the best cook in the province for nothing! Let’s all eat!"
Mr. Juliano was right. The meal his lola had prepared was the best meal he had had in a long time. He thought if there was anything to keep him really happy throughout this vacation, it was the thought of his lola's cooking.
A wheezing sound came from one end of the table. "What's wrong, Itay?" asked Mr. Juliano. He was instantly on his feet, proceeding to rub his father’s back. Mang Enteng was coughing, bits of food sticking around his mouth.
Mrs. Juliano handed a glass of water to Lolo Enteng who pushed it away. "Itay, drink some water. You might choke."
"Whaaat? Who are you?" said the old man.
"Itay, It’s Sonia, remember? I'm your daughter-in-law. I already told you earlier," Mrs. Juliano replied, sounding hurt.
Lolo Enteng only gave her a bewildered look and wiped his mouth carelessly. Nobody spoke afterwards. When Mang Enteng finished his meal, he left the table without a word. Raffy wondered what had happened. His lolo had not recognized any of them, including his father.
Lola Adiang called the family aside after dinner. "Please understand that he’s not angry at any of you. He just doesn’t recognize anybody; even me, in fact. Well, maybe his cockpit friends...”
“He’s been like this for quite some time now. He's having trouble remembering things. I've had the doctor from the distant town examine him, but he had found nothing wrong with him. The doctor says he's quite healthy for a sixty year-old."
"But it's too early for Itay to be ulyanin," said a worried Mr. Juliano.
The family had retired to the available rooms. There was no electricity in Sta. Ines, and this bothered Raffy a lot. Already, he had already missed an episode of his favorite cartoon series. He would have to think up of other things to do, especially at night.
Right now, Raffy was getting really bored. He opened his window to let the air in. With a sigh, he unpacked his hupip and started playing a tune. Playing the flute helped him relax.
Raffy looked out into the moonlit yard, toward the silhouettes of the huge acacia tree outside. The notes from his hupip rose up sharp and clear in the surrounding silence. Quite suddenly, he saw a pair of piercing light sparkling from the thick branches.
He stared intently, puzzled, until his eyes got accustomed to the darkness. From the pale moonlight, he could swear that the light came from the eyes of a large black hawk with a stray tuft of white feather on its head. Its penetrating eyes were on him, unblinking. The hawk tilted its head presently and opened its beak.
So here you are, finally--little man!
Then next instant, Raffy thought he heard the sound of mild laughter and wild whistling of wings. Then the bird had gone.
Raffy hurriedly closed the window and hid his face under the sheets. For a long time he lay in bed shaking and frightened, wondering what the bird meant. He lay there for a long time before drifting into a troubled sleep.
* * *
Raffy woke to the harsh sound of metal on wood. He slid his window open to see a frail-looking boy chopping wood with a huge, rusty axe. Raffy thought the axe should be too heavy to wield, but the boy didn’t seem to mind. While the boy didn’t look like he’s enjoying the work, he didn’t seem to look tired.
At last, someone to play with, Raffy thought. He hastily fixed the bed and was about to go downstairs to take a closer look when he heard his lola hollering for breakfast.
"Good morning, Raffy. You’ve overslept a little, huh? Come, come--we have salted eggs, fried rice, fresh fruits, and suman. There's also some carabao milk from Mang Pulding.” Lola Adiang was turning over the plates and pouring milk in the glasses. "It's going to be a busy day today. There will be a town meeting here at ten-thirty."
Raffy sat down and rubbed his eyes. He looked out the window and noticed that their car was gone. “What time did mom and dad leave, Lola?”
“Very early, dear—around four o'clock. They didn't wake you up anymore because they thought you were exhausted from the journey and needed rest,” Lola Adiang said, fanning some flies away from the food.
"They should've let me say goodbye,” Raffy said, frowning.
"They seemed to be in a big hurry, especially your dad," his lola offered. Raffy sat down to eat, saying nothing.
Just then the boy Raffy had seen outside came in and sat on the chair beside him. He looked more fragile and sickly up close and was quite small compared to Raffy’s heft. His skin was almost as pale as carabao’s milk. He smiled weakly at Raffy before reaching for a suman.
The boy unwrapped and dipped the roll of sticky rice in a bowl of sugar with thin, pale hands. Raffy wondered if the boy could eat as much as he does.
"He's your cousin Agoy," Lola Adiang said before Raffy could ask. “As you might
have noticed, he's rather shy, but really does much of the chores around the house.”
“Hi, Agoy. What a weird name,” Raffy said, extending his hand. He casually withdrew it when Agoy didn't seem to know what to do with it.
"Like I’ve said, he's the shy type," whispered Lola Adiang. "But I think you two will get along fine.”
Soon after they finished their breakfast, a handful of people began coming in. Lola Adiang waited for a few more minutes for the others to arrive, but very few showed up. She looked at the few people who were attending the town meeting before stomping her feet in disgust.
"Where is Juling and the rest? They know quite well how important these meetings are! A kapitana can only do so much for the affairs of Santa Ines. I need all the help I can get!”
Nobody seemed to have anything to say. Lola Adiang scanned the blank faces of the people and swore beneath her teeth. She sighed and looked at her notes. “Well, never mind, never mind. To start things off, let’s talk about the lost goats..."
Those who came to the meeting seemed more lost than Raffy initially imagined. Whenever Lola Adiang would ask them for their opinions, they would just shrug and say something incoherent. It was as if their minds had wandered off someplace else. Lola Adiang was turning red with anger when a few suddenly spoke up.
"Kapitana, Can you lend me a few cavans of rice? I can see you've had a good harvest this season," said one woman.
"Can I have a sack of potatoes, please?" said another.
"Please loan me a basket of mangoes please," said another man.
"I've lost my carabao, kapitana!" cried Mang Pulding.
"What the--what are you all talking about?” Lola Adiang managed to spit out her tobacco in disbelief. “Have you really lost your minds? Check your crops! The trees are teeming with fruits and your vegetables rotting in your yards! What's wrong all of you?"
“Kapitana, please help us,” cried everybody in unison, as if they did not hear what Lola Adiang was saying. The kapitana eventually lost her temper, spewing forth curses.
She threw them out her house.
“What happened to them, Lola? They were acting really strange,” Raffy offered, as her lola bolted the door shut.
“I don’t know Raffy. It seems like they’ve really lost their minds. I have to find out the meaning of all this. Something’s very wrong here.” From the upstairs window, they watched the people walk out of the yard, wandering aimlessly in all sorts of directions, like they’ve forgotten even where they live.
“They are acting like zombies, lola,” Raffy said.
“Hmmm...They are acting like your lolo,” said Lola Adiang, scratching her chin. “I tell you, dear, something’s gotten into them. The whole townsfolk seem to have lost their common senses. Well, at least, they’re not causing any trouble. But I’ll find out what’s causing this soon enough.”
“Now,” Lola Adiang said, her face finally breaking into a smile, revealing tobacco-stained teeth. “How about I prepare merienda for you and Agoy”
* * *
For the next few days of his stay in Sta. Ines, Raffy didn't venture outside much, but with Agoy patiently instructing him, he discovered fun outdoor activities like catching spiders and frogs and scooping fireflies at dusk.
Agoy was hesitant at first to talk and play with Raffy, but Lola Adiang had insisted that he watch over Raffy at all times. Raffy found this funny, since he felt he was the one taking care of his meek cousin most of the time. But for all his shyness, Agoy seemed to know his way around the barrio very well, never complaining aloud and always willing to wander into the farms.
By the end of the week, they seemed to have become the best of friends. They would go climbing trees and raiding the neighborhood vegetable farms. At first Raffy did not like the idea of stealing, but when they managed to snatch the biggest cabbage right under Mang Ruben’s nose, they slowly made a habit of bringing all sorts of
crops in the house. They were able to convince their lola, who would stay up late scanning her notes, that they were presents from the townsfolk. In any case, Lola Adiang seemed to be very busy taking care of Lolo Enteng and visiting the neighbors to care.
Agoy generously gave in to Raffy’s every whim, so there wasn’t much to complain about. While Raffy just didn't like his cousin's perennial silence much, he perceived this to be typical dullness on the provincial boy's part. After all, he told himself, I’m the one who grew up in the city.
When the day of the next town meeting arrived, it was very much like the previous meeting, only with even less people. Again, the townsfolk had nothing much to say except that they needed something from Lola Adiang, who was by then chain-smoking her tobacco, all red in the face.
"You know what I think, dear?” she said during lunchtime, after not-so-politely shooing away the visitors, “I’m thinking it’s that blasted smog building up just beyond the river. Have you seen it? Look there.”
Raffy watched the looming dark cloud hovering in the horizon, past the thick line of trees that their lola forbade him to venture into. It looked like rain clouds, but it did not appear to moving at all. Beside him, Agoy cringed and looked away.
“It’s contaminating the soil and polluting the water. It’s most likely the reason why fruits and vegetables are all growing at an unnatural rate!” declared Lola Adiang, as if she had already found this to be true.
To add to Lola Adiang's endless worries, Lolo Enteng woke up one morning crying like a baby, complaining about a terrible aching in his joints. Lolo Adiang tried applying root herbs and coconut oil, but Lolo Enteng just howled in pain and shoved her away. Even with Raffy and Agoy helping, their lolo would just kick and flail his arms.
They managed to apply the oil when Lolo Enteng finally fell asleep, but only to be rudely awakened in the middle of night with the same howling and crying.
"Now, that’s a really bad case of rheumatism,” Lola Adiang said grumpily early the next day, wearing her boots and readying a pack of tobaccos. “What your lolo needs is a drink of the boiled juice of the pansit-pansitan plant. Sure way to cure this. But it only grows near the banks of the river. And I’ve to go get it. I’ll be back before nightfall.”
"Can we go with you, Lola?" asked Raffy.
"No, you boys just stay here and look after your lolo. Besides, like I’ve said, the forest between the river and Santa Ines is a dangerous place. I know the way, but I don’t want to be taking care of two people on my way there. The sooner I get the plant, the better."
"But Lola..."
"No buts, Rafael. Just stay put and look after your lolo."
* * *
It turned out to be a really long day. By lunchtime, the two boys found out that their lolo was missing. They scoured the entire barrio but couldn’t find him. They were about to give up when they heard raucous sound of laughter coming from Mang Juling’s house. They were only too surprised to find his lolo and several townsfolk having a small sabong in Mang Juling’s sala.
“Lolo! Aren’t you sick? Lola had to find pansit-pansitan for your rheumatism. She won’t like it when she finds you here,” Raffy said.
“Whaaat? Who’s sick? Who are you?” Lolo Enteng replied, genuinely surprised at Raffy and Agoy’s presence.
“It’s Raffy and Agoy, lolo, remember?” Raffy said, not at all surprised.
“Er, are you sure you’re my grandson? Who are you?”
“Uh, who are you?” echoed one of the men in the room, not looking at anyone in particular. Then someone else repeated the question, until all the men in the room were chanting the same lines, pointing their fingers on everybody else, all in all making a mild commotion. One was pointing at himself as he asked; Mang Juling was addressing the question to his rooster.
The rooster now stared sideways at Raffy with what he could swear was one reprimanding eye.
Who are you? Who are you? Am farm animal!
Raffy jumped in fright and pushed Agoy forward. To his surprise, Agoy seemed to have momentarily lost his shyness. He stepped up boldly and composed himself.
“Lolo Enteng!” Agoy shouted, his keening voice rising above the din of chants.
Everybody suddenly fell silent. “Lolo,” Agoy continued, his voice coming back to its usual soft tone. “Let’s go home or Lola Adiang will surely get mad at you.”
When Lolo Enteng heard his wife’s name, a glint of recognition seemed to pass over him. His face winced and he began crying. Everybody else in the room seemed to have either recognized their kapitana’s name or just taken the cue from Lolo Enteng. Soon everyone was sobbing wildly.
The boys had to half-drag, half-carry their lolo back to the house. But while Lolo Enteng bawled like a baby, he did not resist. When they finally got him to bed, Lolo Enteng quickly fell asleep, a trace of a smile on his face. Raffy and Agoy stayed with him, both of them exhausted and full of questions.
Afternoon moved into early evening, but Lola Adiang didn't come back. The boys nervously watched the silhouette of the distant forest disappear into blackness, but their lola still didn’t return. They ate dinner silently and fed their lolo, who seemed to be in a peculiarly jovial mood. They stayed up late into the night, their heads poking out the window, looking for any sign that their lola had arrived.
“I’m scared, Raffy,” said Agoy.
“Don’t worry. Lola will be back soon. Maybe she just had a hard time looking for the plant. I’m sure she’s on her way back. She knows the woods; she won’t get lost.” Raffy wasn’t convinced by his own words.
“But what if—“
“I said she’ll be back!” Raffy said harshly. And nothing more was said.
Raffy was determined to keep awake until his lola arrived but his eyes began to feel droopy and he eventually fell into a fitful sleep beside the window.
* * *
He was rudely awakened by Agoy; his ears were at once assaulted by the wailing noise of Lolo Enteng, who was once again complaining about his bones. “Raffy, wake up. Lola still hasn’t returned.”
“What?” Raffy said, jumping from his bed. “She said she’ll be back by nightfall. Something must really have gone wrong.”
“What do we do now?” said Agoy.
“We need to look for her,” replied Raffy.
“Let’s ask the neighbors for help,” offered Agoy.
“Are you kidding? They don’t even know who they are! We have to do this on our own.”
“But who’ll take care of lolo? Lola said we shouldn’t leave him. And he seems to be in great pain,” said Agoy.
“I have an idea which just might work,” said Raffy. “Go get dressed.”
The boys hurriedly brought their lolo to Mang Juling’s house. When they got there, they found most of the men again attempting to play sabong. And, as Raffy had expected, Lolo Enteng’s rheumatism seemed to have vanished the moment he got inside the house.
The sight of the men laughing, clapping their hands, and prodding their roosters to fight each other looked really strange to Raffy, especially because the animals didn’t seem to be interested at all in fighting. The men all squatted in the small sala and watched the chickens scratching the floor and flapping their wings.
“They should keep lolo preoccupied for a while,” Raffy whispered as he stepped
outside, dragging Agoy with him. He didn’t want to stay too long with the animals; he felt they would start talking to him again the next moment.
“Where do we start?” Agoy asked presently.
“Where else?” Raffy retorted. “We have to follow the path to the forest.”
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Civilization IV
I can't believe it; it's time to rule the world all over again. I'm reviewing this for Gamesmaster, together with Age of Empires III. So if you'll excuse me...it's time to frakkin' play!
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
Sunday, October 23, 2005
Archaeological Dig Uncovers Ancient Race Of Skeleton People
AL JIZAH, EGYPT—A team of British and Egyptian archaeologists made a stunning discovery Monday, unearthing several intact specimens of "skeleton people"—skinless, organless humans who populated the Nile delta region an estimated 6,000 years ago.
"This is an incredible find," said Dr. Christian Hutchins, Oxford University archaeologist and head of the dig team. "Imagine: At one time, this entire area was filled with spooky, bony, walking skeletons."
"The implications are staggering," Hutchins continued. "We now know that the skeletons we see in horror films and on Halloween are not mere products of the imagination, but actually lived on Earth."
Standing at the excavation site, a 20-by-20-foot square pit along the Nile River, Hutchins noted key elements of the find. "The skeletons lived in this mud-brick structure, which, based on what we know of these people, was probably haunted," he said. "Although we found crude cooking utensils in the area, as well as evidence of crafts like pottery and weaving, we are inclined to believe that the skeletons' chief activity was jumping out at nearby humans and scaring them. And though we know little of their language and means of communication, it is likely that they said 'boogedy-boogedy' a lot."
Approximately 200 yards west of the excavation site, the archaeologists also found evidence of farming.
"What's puzzling about this," Cambridge University archaeologist Sir Ian Edmund-White said, "is that skeletons would not benefit from harvested crops, as any food taken orally would immediately fall through the hole behind the jaw and down through the rib cage, eventually hitting the ground. Our best guess is that they scared away a group of human farmers, then remained behind to haunt the dwelling. Or perhaps they bartered goods in a nearby city to acquire skeleton accessories, such as chains, coffins and tattered, dirty clothing."
Continued Edmund-White: "The hole in that theory, however, is that a 1997 excavation of this area which yielded extensive records of local clans and merchants made no mention of even one animated mass of bones coming to town for the purpose of trade. But we are taking great pains to recover as much of the site as possible, while also being extremely careful not to fall victim to some kind of spooky skeleton curse."
As for what led to the extinction of the skeletons, Edmund-White offered a theory.
"Perhaps an Egyptian priest or king broke the curse of the skeletons, either by defeating the head skeleton in combat or by discovering the magic words needed to send their spirits back to Hell," Edmund-White said. "In any case, there is strong evidence that the Power of Greyskull played a significant role in the defeat of the skeleton people."
According to Hutchins, the skeletons bear numerous similarities to humans, leading him to suspect that there may be an evolutionary link between the two species.
"Like humans, these creatures walked upright on two legs and possessed highly developed opposable thumbs," Edmund-White said. "These and many other similarities lend credence to the theory that hundreds of thousands of years ago, human development passed through a skeletal stage. These skeletons may, in fact, be ancestors of us all."
"Any of us could be part skeleton," he added.
Other experts disagreed.
"The evidence of an evolutionary link between humans and skeletons is sparse at best," said Dr. Terrance Schneider of the University of Chicago. "Furthermore, it is downright unscientific to theorize that skeleton life originated in Egypt merely because mummies, another species of monster, are indigenous to the area. Spooky creatures are found all over the world, from the vampires of Transylvania to the headless horsemen of Sleepy Hollow."
Friday, October 21, 2005
Two Poems
“I stand for a kind of poetry that the everyday person can understand,” he said. “My job as a poet is to make something special of the everyday world.”
-- Ted Kooser
Grasshoppers
This year they are exactly the size
of the pencil stub my grandfather kept
to mark off the days since rain,
and precisely the color of dust, of the roads
leading back across the dying fields
into the '30s. Walking the cracked lane
past the empty barn, the empty silo,
you hear them tinkering with irony,
slapping the grass like drops of rain.
From Delights and Shadows (2005 Pulitzer Prize Winner for Poetry)
------
The Rain Stick
Upend the rain stick and what happens next
Is a music that you never would have known
To listen for. In a cactus stalk
Downpour, sluice-rush, spillage and backwash
Come flowing through. You stand there like a pipe
Being played by water, you shake it again lightly
And diminuendo runs through all its scales
Like a gutter stopping trickling. And now here comes
A sprinkle of drops out of the freshened leaves,
Then subtle little wets off grass and daisies;
Then glitter drizzle, almost-breaths of air.
Upend the stick again. What happens next
Is undiminished for having happened once,
Twice, ten, a thousand times before.
Who cares if all the music that transpires
Is the fall of grit or dry seeds through a cactus?
You are like a rich man entering heaven
Through the ear of a raindrop. Listen now again.
Seamus Heaney
The Spirit Level
-- Ted Kooser
Grasshoppers
This year they are exactly the size
of the pencil stub my grandfather kept
to mark off the days since rain,
and precisely the color of dust, of the roads
leading back across the dying fields
into the '30s. Walking the cracked lane
past the empty barn, the empty silo,
you hear them tinkering with irony,
slapping the grass like drops of rain.
From Delights and Shadows (2005 Pulitzer Prize Winner for Poetry)
------
The Rain Stick
Upend the rain stick and what happens next
Is a music that you never would have known
To listen for. In a cactus stalk
Downpour, sluice-rush, spillage and backwash
Come flowing through. You stand there like a pipe
Being played by water, you shake it again lightly
And diminuendo runs through all its scales
Like a gutter stopping trickling. And now here comes
A sprinkle of drops out of the freshened leaves,
Then subtle little wets off grass and daisies;
Then glitter drizzle, almost-breaths of air.
Upend the stick again. What happens next
Is undiminished for having happened once,
Twice, ten, a thousand times before.
Who cares if all the music that transpires
Is the fall of grit or dry seeds through a cactus?
You are like a rich man entering heaven
Through the ear of a raindrop. Listen now again.
Seamus Heaney
The Spirit Level
Tuesday, October 18, 2005
Wade A Minute
Wheelchair-Basketball Players Stunned By Thunderous Slam Dunk
Now, this one totally outclasses the NBA Live 06 Highflyers. Shaq-a-What?
Now, this one totally outclasses the NBA Live 06 Highflyers. Shaq-a-What?
Saturday, October 15, 2005
Gooood!
New, Delicious Species Discovered
MANAUS, BRAZIL—An international team of scientists conducting research in the Amazon River Basin announced the discovery of a formerly unknown primate species inhabiting a remote jungle area roughly 300 miles from Manaus Monday. According to scientists in Manaus, the new species, Ateles saporis, is "an amazing biological find" and "incredibly delectable."
A member of Ateles saporis, which scientists say tastes excellent broiled (below).
"We couldn't be more thrilled!" German researcher Dr. Jerome Keller told reporters Tuesday. "Very few scientists are lucky enough to discover a new species, let alone a mammal with a palatability on par with a tender, juicy steak."
"This is a seriously tasty creature," Keller added.
Although the creature resembles a large kitten, as a member of the Ateles genus, it is more closely related to wooly and spider monkeys. Ateles saporis, informally known as the delicacy ape, is a tree-dwelling herbivore that can measure up to a meter from head to tail. The adult delicacy ape weighs between 35 and 40 pounds and tastes wonderful with a currant glaze.
Keller said the new species boasts a gular sac, a distinctive trait that separates it from other species in the Ateles genus.
"The gular sac is a throat pouch that can be inflated, allowing the animal to make loud calls that resonate through the treetops," Keller said. "More importantly, the pouch can be stuffed with nuts or dried fruits prior to roasting."
Biologist Jeanette Bransky, who served as the research team's chief archivist, presented a series of slides showing delicacy apes cavorting in trees, caring for their young, and sitting thinly sliced on a platter next to roasted red potatoes.
"After careful study, we have determined that Ateles saporis is a very insulated species," Bransky said. "All of their food needs are met in the treetops. They're docile, affectionate creatures with a non-competitive social structure. They often sit grooming each other for hours on end, which explains why their meat is so marbled and tender."
This marks the first primate species discovered since the nearly inedible Arunachal macaque was found in India last year.
"In our studies of the delicacy ape, we have noted several traits, such as play activities, that are almost human," Bransky said. "However, the similarities do not run much deeper than that. Take the loin, for example. Unlike a human's, it's so savory and delicate that it can be eaten just like sashimi."
"Raw or cooked, this species is one of the greatest discoveries of the 21st century," added Bransky, licking her lips.
The team plans to research the species for another two months and then publish its findings in both the International Journal Of Primatology and Bon Appétit.
"We still need to complete an accurate population-density study," Keller said. "We assume that their habitat is limited to the Amazon and that their total number is very small. We need to gather data quickly, as the species is almost certainly facing extinction. I mean, it's that good."
Keller said the discovery of the delicacy ape underscores the importance of protecting delicate ecosystems from mass deforestation.
"The Amazon River Basin boasts the greatest biodiversity in the world, with countless potentially tasty species waiting to be discovered," Keller said. "As for the delicacy ape, I only hope there's something we can do to preserve it. Maybe we can get them to breed in captivity. Generations to come should have the opportunity to enjoy the taste of this majestic creature."
from TheOnion.com
Friday, October 14, 2005
Funfrock!
| Which poem are you? The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot God, you're a BAYAW!. You're not that great, but you don't know if you want to accept that. You appreciate beauty and observe things others may not, but you're also hopelessly impaled on your own foolish romanticism. You like the color reddish-brown and you have a band named Los Chupacabras. Gusto mo DSLiot na connection para mabilis mag-blog. |
| Click Here to Take This Quiz Brought to you by YouThink.com quizzes and personality tests. |
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
TO LIVE BY
Work from the original toward
the beautiful,
unless the latter comes first
in which case
reverse your efforts to find
a model worthy of such
inane desire.
Even the mouth's being
divided into two lips is
not enough to make words
equal themselves.
Eavesdroppers fear
the hermit's soliloquy.
Wake up, wound, the knife said.
Bill Knott
The Unsubscriber
the beautiful,
unless the latter comes first
in which case
reverse your efforts to find
a model worthy of such
inane desire.
Even the mouth's being
divided into two lips is
not enough to make words
equal themselves.
Eavesdroppers fear
the hermit's soliloquy.
Wake up, wound, the knife said.
Bill Knott
The Unsubscriber
Saturday, October 08, 2005
Hamblog!
The article below came out in The Philippine Star yesterday. Very strong anti-blogging statements. Fire away.
-----------------------
Blog sHmlog
STILL TALKING By Enrico Miguel T. Subido
The Philippine STAR 10/07/2005
Only people who keep a blog will ever understand why these things exist. Having read a random blog for the first time only a few days ago, the whole concept of keeping one is still a bit hazy. The fact that some of these blogs are maniacally updated makes me wonder if any of the following are common ailments among bloggers: carpal tunnel syndrome, acute back and neck spasms, or "my-starving-ego-needs-to-be-fedinitis."
Without a doubt, blogs are great because they are free; yet another means to stay in touch with friends without incurring a fee. For those who see other possibilities, blogs are the perfect venue for sharing news and information over common interests. Unknown writers can even be recognized for their skills all because of these on-line journals. Therapeutically, people who write a million words a minute are given some kind of outlet with blogs.
Still, the idea of having an on-line journal anyone can look through is out of my grasp. Just talking to someone about what happened during my day appeals to me more. Besides, it’s physically impossible to share a beer with someone over a blog.
I find it odd that people are comfortable reading about what goes on in other people’s lives. I find it even more odd that people are willing to post their day-to-day transactions on the Internet, the widest database in the world, for everyone to read. I get the sense that there is some double overhead reverse freaky-voyeurism somewhere at play here.
Then again, it may just be that I’m a lethargicon. All the work you put into signing up, registering, uploading and constant updating doesn’t appeal to my lethargic nature. Besides, sitting in front of a computer for more than an hour makes my head hurt. My evasion of blogging could also be the result of this paranoia I have for computers and the vastness of the Internet.
There are, however, some really interesting blogs out there. It took me a while to find some, which, because of my impatience with computers, is probably another reason I will never ever blog. I acknowledge that these are very cool and functional blogs. Still, I must ask this of everyone who has a regularly updated blog: Why?
I really don’t understand the blog logic right now, and I don’t think I ever will. But then again, that’s just me. Onto the blogs:
Jim Lee’s Blog is fun and helpful for anyone interested in comic art, drawing tips and critiques. Famous for his work with Marvel Comics’ X-Men and his creation the Wild C.A.T.S., Jim Lee hosts a mean blog that includes all his other work. It’s fairly easy to navigate through and it’s complemented by a lot of impressive visuals so there’s a lot to be distracted by. Jim Lee is a personal favorite whom I thought I would never hear about again. Thank God for his blog, he once again exists. His artistry lives on in this virtual domain, however far a digital leap it has taken. The first blog is located at http://gelatometti.blogspot.com/, but it has recently moved to the aptly named "Sun of Gelatometti" at http://www.gelatometti2.blogspot.com/. The growth and progression of this blog from small beginnings can be observed within these two websites.
After several attempts at finding another functional blog, the perfect site for guitar aficionados was discovered. Typing in "guitar blogs" on the Google searchbar gave the completely functional and aesthetically laid out Guitar Trader blog. It is an effective site for anyone looking to find a guitar on the net. The blog provides high-resolution images, prices, opinions and any other pieces of helpful information on the guitars up for grabs. Located at the easy-to-remember http://guitar-trader.blogspot.com, this blog is appealing in the "Auto Trader" sort of way.
After typing in "guitar blogs" in Google, I took a chance and typed in "bass guitar blogs," with the hopes of finding information on a nice Fender four-string Jazz bass. Both bass and guitar turned up, but not the way I expected it to. The link directed me to this site, http:/ www.bassfishingweekly.com/bassblog/blog/, which is totally dedicated to bigmouth bass fishing. And playing the guitar while on the boat. The blog advises on the best season to fish for bigmouth bass; which baits and lures the bass are attracted to the most, and how relaxing it is to play the guitar out starboard. It wasn’t the bass I was really looking for, but functional respect indeed. Whoever looks after this blog knows his guitar and his bigmouth bass. And probably sings some bluegrass tunes, besides.
These may be the last three blogs I will ever read in my life. The sifting process through all the other "what-I-did-today" blogs led me to these pretty functional blog spots. The same sifting process has also pointed me in the direction of my comfy bed. Too much time has been spent in front of the computer. Every single blog is the same. I’m tired of computers and blogs. Must sleep.
E-mail me at enricomiguelsubido@yahoo.com.
-----------------------
Blog sHmlog
STILL TALKING By Enrico Miguel T. Subido
The Philippine STAR 10/07/2005
Only people who keep a blog will ever understand why these things exist. Having read a random blog for the first time only a few days ago, the whole concept of keeping one is still a bit hazy. The fact that some of these blogs are maniacally updated makes me wonder if any of the following are common ailments among bloggers: carpal tunnel syndrome, acute back and neck spasms, or "my-starving-ego-needs-to-be-fedinitis."Without a doubt, blogs are great because they are free; yet another means to stay in touch with friends without incurring a fee. For those who see other possibilities, blogs are the perfect venue for sharing news and information over common interests. Unknown writers can even be recognized for their skills all because of these on-line journals. Therapeutically, people who write a million words a minute are given some kind of outlet with blogs.
Still, the idea of having an on-line journal anyone can look through is out of my grasp. Just talking to someone about what happened during my day appeals to me more. Besides, it’s physically impossible to share a beer with someone over a blog.
I find it odd that people are comfortable reading about what goes on in other people’s lives. I find it even more odd that people are willing to post their day-to-day transactions on the Internet, the widest database in the world, for everyone to read. I get the sense that there is some double overhead reverse freaky-voyeurism somewhere at play here.
Then again, it may just be that I’m a lethargicon. All the work you put into signing up, registering, uploading and constant updating doesn’t appeal to my lethargic nature. Besides, sitting in front of a computer for more than an hour makes my head hurt. My evasion of blogging could also be the result of this paranoia I have for computers and the vastness of the Internet.
There are, however, some really interesting blogs out there. It took me a while to find some, which, because of my impatience with computers, is probably another reason I will never ever blog. I acknowledge that these are very cool and functional blogs. Still, I must ask this of everyone who has a regularly updated blog: Why?
I really don’t understand the blog logic right now, and I don’t think I ever will. But then again, that’s just me. Onto the blogs:
Jim Lee’s Blog is fun and helpful for anyone interested in comic art, drawing tips and critiques. Famous for his work with Marvel Comics’ X-Men and his creation the Wild C.A.T.S., Jim Lee hosts a mean blog that includes all his other work. It’s fairly easy to navigate through and it’s complemented by a lot of impressive visuals so there’s a lot to be distracted by. Jim Lee is a personal favorite whom I thought I would never hear about again. Thank God for his blog, he once again exists. His artistry lives on in this virtual domain, however far a digital leap it has taken. The first blog is located at http://gelatometti.blogspot.com/, but it has recently moved to the aptly named "Sun of Gelatometti" at http://www.gelatometti2.blogspot.com/. The growth and progression of this blog from small beginnings can be observed within these two websites.
After several attempts at finding another functional blog, the perfect site for guitar aficionados was discovered. Typing in "guitar blogs" on the Google searchbar gave the completely functional and aesthetically laid out Guitar Trader blog. It is an effective site for anyone looking to find a guitar on the net. The blog provides high-resolution images, prices, opinions and any other pieces of helpful information on the guitars up for grabs. Located at the easy-to-remember http://guitar-trader.blogspot.com, this blog is appealing in the "Auto Trader" sort of way.
After typing in "guitar blogs" in Google, I took a chance and typed in "bass guitar blogs," with the hopes of finding information on a nice Fender four-string Jazz bass. Both bass and guitar turned up, but not the way I expected it to. The link directed me to this site, http:/ www.bassfishingweekly.com/bassblog/blog/, which is totally dedicated to bigmouth bass fishing. And playing the guitar while on the boat. The blog advises on the best season to fish for bigmouth bass; which baits and lures the bass are attracted to the most, and how relaxing it is to play the guitar out starboard. It wasn’t the bass I was really looking for, but functional respect indeed. Whoever looks after this blog knows his guitar and his bigmouth bass. And probably sings some bluegrass tunes, besides.
These may be the last three blogs I will ever read in my life. The sifting process through all the other "what-I-did-today" blogs led me to these pretty functional blog spots. The same sifting process has also pointed me in the direction of my comfy bed. Too much time has been spent in front of the computer. Every single blog is the same. I’m tired of computers and blogs. Must sleep.
Thursday, October 06, 2005
Additional Books
More titles, mostly consigned.
Pick-up still strictly on Tuesday, October 11, 2pm Dunkin Donuts, Katipunan.
Thanks!
---------------
1. Morning Poems: Robert Bly – P350
2. An ABC of Witchcraft: Doreen Valiente – P500
3. Poetry, An Introduction: John Strachan – P250
4. Dreamcatcher (HB): Stephen King – P350
5. Where Water Comes Together With Other Water (Poems): Raymond Carver – P350
6. Alipato (Tula/HB): Benilda Santos – P200
7. A Makeshift Sun (Prose and Poems): Gemino Abad – P200
8. Ginseng and Other Tales From Manila (Stories): Marianne Villanueva – P150
9. Buenavista Ventures (Prose and Poetry): Alfrredo Navarro Salanga – P250
10. Love is A Dog From Hell (Poems): Charles Bukowski – P600
11. Movies in the Mind (How to Build A Short Story): Colleen Rae – P400
12. Characters and Viewpoint (Elements of Fiction Writing): Orson Scott Card – P400
13. A Normal Life and Other Stories: Reine Arcache Melvin – P150
14. The Walk (Stories): Joy Dayrit – P200
15. On the Road: Jack Kerouac -- P250
Pick-up still strictly on Tuesday, October 11, 2pm Dunkin Donuts, Katipunan.
Thanks!
---------------
1. Morning Poems: Robert Bly – P350
2. An ABC of Witchcraft: Doreen Valiente – P500
3. Poetry, An Introduction: John Strachan – P250
4. Dreamcatcher (HB): Stephen King – P350
5. Where Water Comes Together With Other Water (Poems): Raymond Carver – P350
6. Alipato (Tula/HB): Benilda Santos – P200
7. A Makeshift Sun (Prose and Poems): Gemino Abad – P200
8. Ginseng and Other Tales From Manila (Stories): Marianne Villanueva – P150
9. Buenavista Ventures (Prose and Poetry): Alfrredo Navarro Salanga – P250
10. Love is A Dog From Hell (Poems): Charles Bukowski – P600
11. Movies in the Mind (How to Build A Short Story): Colleen Rae – P400
12. Characters and Viewpoint (Elements of Fiction Writing): Orson Scott Card – P400
13. A Normal Life and Other Stories: Reine Arcache Melvin – P150
14. The Walk (Stories): Joy Dayrit – P200
15. On the Road: Jack Kerouac -- P250
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Books 26
New titles, mostly consigned. Some of the books from the previous list
still available, listed below the new list.
Unahan na lang sa comments box ha. Don't text me anymore.
Whoever "orders" first via the comment box gets the book(s).
Pick-up is STRICTLY on Tuesday, October 11, 2pm, Dunkin Katipunan
---------------------
1. Tales of the Unexpected (Stories): Roald Dahl - P400
2. Stranger Shores (Literary Essays): J.M. Coetzee - P500
3. Death and Fame: Last Poems 93-97: Allen Ginsberg - P500
4. Desolation Angels: Jack Kerouac -- P400
5. Midnight's Children: Salman Rushdie - P350
6. News of a Kidnapping (HB) -- Gabriel Garcia Marquez: P500
7. The First Man: Albert Camus - P400
8. The Penguin Historical Atlas of Ancient Rome (Full Color)-- P400
9. Hamlet: Poem Unlimited -- Harold Bloom - P350
10. Evenings and Avenues (Poetry) -- Stuart Duschell - P200
11. Battlestar Galactica* (HB 1978/For Collectors) -- Glen Larson - P800
12. Letters to a Young Poet (1963 Edition) -- Rainier Ma Rilke -- P400
13. How to Draw Anything -- Mark Linley -- P350
14. *Counterfeit Realities (HB/Consigned) Philip K. Dick -- P2,500
15. Welcome to the Monkey House (Stories) -- Kurt Vonnegut --P400
16. *Rare: Episodes of the Revolutionary War -- Che Guevara -- P500
17. Werewolves in Their Youth (Stories) -- Michael Chabon -- P300
18. The House on Mango Street -- Sandra Cisneros -- P250
19. Perido Street Station: China Mieville (Pocketbook/Rare) -- P300
20. Where the Sidewalk Ends (HB) -- Shel Silverstein -- P400
21. *Signed! Men and Cartoons (HB/Stories) -- Jonathan Lethem -- P3,000
22. The Uses of Enchantment-- Bruno Bettelheim -- P250
23. The Martian Chronicles (HB) -- Ray Bradbury -- P500
24. A Brief History of Time -- Stephen Hawking -- P250
25. *The Scar (HB/1st Edition) -- China Mieville -- P3,000
26. My Invented Country (HB) -- Isabel Allende -- P400
-------------
Still available, from previous list, some marked down:
1. Bare Bones: Conversations on Terror with Stephen King -- P400.00
2. Supernatural Horror in Literature by H.P. Lovecraft--P350.00
3. A Galaxy Not So Far Away: Writers/Artists on Star Wars' 25 years (including essays by
Jonathan Lethem, Kevin Smith) -- P450.00
4. Sophie's World: Jostein Gaarder -- P250.00
5. Great Apes: Will Self (HB/SIGNED) -- P800.00
6. Kurt Cobain's Journals (Rare/Oversized) -- P350.00
7. Milan Kundera: Immortality -- P350.00
8. Naguib Mahfouz: The Beggar (Nobel Prize Winner)-- P200.00
9. Michael Moorcock: King of the City (HB) -- P200.00
10. Civilization and its Discontents: Sigmund Freud -- P150.00
11. The Tesseract: Alex Garland (HB/Manila/must-read) -- P450.00
12. Best American Poetry 1996 (Edited by Adrienne Rich) -- P250.00
still available, listed below the new list.
Unahan na lang sa comments box ha. Don't text me anymore.
Whoever "orders" first via the comment box gets the book(s).
Pick-up is STRICTLY on Tuesday, October 11, 2pm, Dunkin Katipunan
---------------------
1. Tales of the Unexpected (Stories): Roald Dahl - P400
2. Stranger Shores (Literary Essays): J.M. Coetzee - P500
3. Death and Fame: Last Poems 93-97: Allen Ginsberg - P500
4. Desolation Angels: Jack Kerouac -- P400
5. Midnight's Children: Salman Rushdie - P350
6. News of a Kidnapping (HB) -- Gabriel Garcia Marquez: P500
7. The First Man: Albert Camus - P400
8. The Penguin Historical Atlas of Ancient Rome (Full Color)-- P400
9. Hamlet: Poem Unlimited -- Harold Bloom - P350
10. Evenings and Avenues (Poetry) -- Stuart Duschell - P200
11. Battlestar Galactica* (HB 1978/For Collectors) -- Glen Larson - P800
12. Letters to a Young Poet (1963 Edition) -- Rainier Ma Rilke -- P400
13. How to Draw Anything -- Mark Linley -- P350
14. *Counterfeit Realities (HB/Consigned) Philip K. Dick -- P2,500
15. Welcome to the Monkey House (Stories) -- Kurt Vonnegut --P400
16. *Rare: Episodes of the Revolutionary War -- Che Guevara -- P500
17. Werewolves in Their Youth (Stories) -- Michael Chabon -- P300
18. The House on Mango Street -- Sandra Cisneros -- P250
19. Perido Street Station: China Mieville (Pocketbook/Rare) -- P300
20. Where the Sidewalk Ends (HB) -- Shel Silverstein -- P400
21. *Signed! Men and Cartoons (HB/Stories) -- Jonathan Lethem -- P3,000
22. The Uses of Enchantment-- Bruno Bettelheim -- P250
23. The Martian Chronicles (HB) -- Ray Bradbury -- P500
24. A Brief History of Time -- Stephen Hawking -- P250
25. *The Scar (HB/1st Edition) -- China Mieville -- P3,000
26. My Invented Country (HB) -- Isabel Allende -- P400
-------------
Still available, from previous list, some marked down:
1. Bare Bones: Conversations on Terror with Stephen King -- P400.00
2. Supernatural Horror in Literature by H.P. Lovecraft--P350.00
3. A Galaxy Not So Far Away: Writers/Artists on Star Wars' 25 years (including essays by
Jonathan Lethem, Kevin Smith) -- P450.00
4. Sophie's World: Jostein Gaarder -- P250.00
5. Great Apes: Will Self (HB/SIGNED) -- P800.00
6. Kurt Cobain's Journals (Rare/Oversized) -- P350.00
7. Milan Kundera: Immortality -- P350.00
8. Naguib Mahfouz: The Beggar (Nobel Prize Winner)-- P200.00
9. Michael Moorcock: King of the City (HB) -- P200.00
10. Civilization and its Discontents: Sigmund Freud -- P150.00
11. The Tesseract: Alex Garland (HB/Manila/must-read) -- P450.00
12. Best American Poetry 1996 (Edited by Adrienne Rich) -- P250.00
Monday, October 03, 2005
Allan D 'Man (Melts in Your Mouth, Not in Your Hand)
From The Philippine Star Column Kriptokin:
"Ang galing nitong si Allan. As-tig!" --
Krip Yuson
Congratulations, bayaw/hipag Allan Pastrana for bagging the Maningning Miclat Poetry Award in the English Division. Congratulations na rin kay Joseph Saguid (Filipino Division) at kina E.J. Galang, Ayer Arguelles, Cathy Candano, at Sonny Sendon (honorable Mention).
Here's a poem from Allan's award-winning collection, Before Talkies:
Rib
As far as I know,
the legend happened in a split-second.
God wanted to come out clean, fleeing
the marked spot like a curious riddle. So the first man
was put to sleep: the first real get-away, instant
and painless. Whenever we reach that part of the story
where the rib juts out from his side, you wonder
if it is merely bone. But then you start to believe
it is also keepsake, fine heirloom – a loneliness
finally coming out like a splinter.
Do you get the whole picture? No,
this is neither Michelangelo nor the 1500s; none
of that smoothness in stepping out of a body,
that light walled in and stucco-perfect. These
are difficult times and what we imagine
we have created (out of loam, bamboo splitting in two,
the primordial being) is pure coincidence.
We are always caught in the middle of something, various
emergencies. You only have to name things
to be able to claim them. An event of eyes and hands, meeting,
means that the pedestrian crossing the street
is mine. Also this stranger beside me, rapt in a motel room
at three in the morning, the head resting on my arm, more
like an enjambment than a complete and irreversible thought.
Do you know what the Paradise stands for? It is hunger,
hunger and the pit, deep end of something else
that is a spacious cavity – that which keeps track
and, ever after, holds. Someone eventually
has to step into the clearing; the found other still
as a portrait, as if startled by a wild animal.
The rest of us just clamber up our beds because patience
does not wait on anybody. It is simply stubbornness,
slow yet seeks to get even. It so happened:
Beneath that thick hide of the plot, we came across
the last of the fruit-bearing trees. And we stood there
gaping, the way we wanted to take in everything –
whole lives, this bright field, stars. This
is the only kind of pardon we may have deserved,
to keep the indentions of the natural world inside us
without regret: and that one bite, finally,
that offers no explanation but,
this time around, foolish and alone, we’ll fall in love.
Sunday, October 02, 2005
Calling All Young Poets of the Philippines Writing in English
This call for manuscripts came from KuwabataKen:
The editors of a forthcoming anthology would like to request your participation. The book will serve as a peek into and a celebration of the future of Philippine Poetry in English. Dr. Cirilo Bautista will be editing the project with the assistance of Ken T. Ishikawa.
If you are 35 years old and below, a Filipino, and a writer of Poetry in English please send five of your best representative work to newphilippinepoetry@gmail.com. Young poets who have not yet published any books are highly encouraged to send their works.
Please send each of your poems in a single file; don't put all five in one. Don't forget to include short biographical information with a scanned 1x1 photo as your profile will appear in the list of contributors. The deadline will be on November 15, 2005.
Honorarium will come in the form of a contributor's copy. Authors of accepted works will be receiving a reply in their mail.
Feel free to send us your comments and suggestions. We are looking forward to your poems.
The Editors
The editors of a forthcoming anthology would like to request your participation. The book will serve as a peek into and a celebration of the future of Philippine Poetry in English. Dr. Cirilo Bautista will be editing the project with the assistance of Ken T. Ishikawa.
If you are 35 years old and below, a Filipino, and a writer of Poetry in English please send five of your best representative work to newphilippinepoetry@gmail.com. Young poets who have not yet published any books are highly encouraged to send their works.
Please send each of your poems in a single file; don't put all five in one. Don't forget to include short biographical information with a scanned 1x1 photo as your profile will appear in the list of contributors. The deadline will be on November 15, 2005.
Honorarium will come in the form of a contributor's copy. Authors of accepted works will be receiving a reply in their mail.
Feel free to send us your comments and suggestions. We are looking forward to your poems.
The Editors
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)