19
reaction(s)

Friday, December 31, 2010

Merci Beacoup│Arigatou│Grazie│Tosha│Thank you│Salamat

I don’t know how or what to write for a year-end post. The lists are coming. Reflections are innate. 2010 may not have been really kind after-all but it sure is as helluvah meister teacher. I thank the leaving year.

I would’ve thanked my family and friends here but who are we kidding? As if they’re gonna read this. So allow me to just thank a few people here who made my blogging days quite a journey.

To McVie, Master Mu[g]en, and Soltero, you were the firsts to follow and comment on my blog entries. Kasalanan ninyo kung bakit marame-rame na rin ang nakakakilala kay DB ngayon. Hehe. Maraming maraming salamat sa inyong tatlo. Kayo ang nagbukas ng mga pinto patungo dito sa aking tahanan.


Kay Jay, na siyang nagging mitsa ng pagba-blog ni Desole Boy. Lubos akong nagpapasalamat dahil naging tapat ka una pa lang na katawan ko lang talaga ang habol mo. Chos! Haha. At least, nasaktan man ako at ganun mo na lang ako binalewala pagkatapos, hindi mo naman ako talaga pinaasa. You made me feel soooo special in your arms during those 6 hours in a motel. =p

To my idols in writing who continuously inspire me to thread words of adventures and of failures, of dreams and of nightmares and of triumphs and frustrations, Kane, Red the Mod, my brother “twin-soul” Alterjon at lalo’t higit sa mga blog na binabasa ko noon pa mang hindi pa ako blogger [ayan trivia yan] Daddy Kuri, Baklang Maton, muli si Master Mu[g]en, Aris at si Popoy Inosentes . Salamat. Salamat. 

Kay Doc Ced at kay JP, the only living souls who saw the real person behind the mask of Desole Boy. Thank you guys! [Madagdagan kaya sila? We’ll see.]

Sa inaanak kong si Pipo [inaanak na kasing-edad ko naman] salamat sa mga payo and words of encouragement! Idedeliver ko personally yung gift, I promise!

Salamat din sa makukulit na posts ni Nimmy, kulitan with Ceiboh/ Kiko, at yung dalawang crush ko dito sa blogosphere na yung isa ay kumpirmadong straight at yung isa eh pinag-aaralan ko pa rin at sinesurvey hanggang ngayon [his passion for fashion is a huge hint, but we'll see].

Gusto ko din pasalamatan ang mga dumating na bagyo dahil ang dame nila. You all made me feel like Superman! A f*ckin hot and fabulous Superman!

Sa mga nasaling ng aking pagsusulat [noli me tangere, gagah!], kung meron man kayong hindi nagustuhan, sa mga nasaktan at napikon sa mga pagbibiro ko [dito man sa blog o sa twitter] humihingi ako ng paumanhin. Gayundin sa mga naumay sa kadramahan ko, alam kong marami-rami kayo, pasensya na rin at salamat dahil patuloy pa rin kayong bumabalik. 

At sa mahigit na isandaang madlang-people sumusubaybay sa mga kwento ko at kwento ng mga taong nakikilala ko, you guys own Desole Boy! He’s all yours coz you guys are one of the reasons why he’s still here. That’s why I promise to be more reachable this year [feeling artista? tseh!]. 'Di na ko magiging mailap. Pangako yan. 

I’m not going to wish for a better year. I only pray for hope, courage and the ability to trust. The last one, I know, would be a real struggle considering all the shenanigans that drowned me the past year. But I’ll get there. I’m working on it.

Hangad ko ang kapayapaan at pagkakaisa sa ‘ting lahat dito. Hangad ko ang kapatawaran at paghilom sa lahat ng mga nasaktan ng nagdaang taon. Hangad ko ang mas marami pang pakikipagkaibigan at pakikipagkwentuhan sa inyong lahat.

So let me propose a toast, raise your glasses [if you don’t have then your pinky will do] and cheers!

To freedom!





A HOPEFUL NEW YEAR TO ALL OF YOU!





3
reaction(s)

Wednesday, December 29, 2010

The Boy Who [Will] Kick the Hornet's Nest

Should I sing to you the 12 Days of Christmas, but no, there were only four but hopefully would turn out five, six, seven…whatever. And so it goes...

Day 1 –a jamming session with few cousins, neighbors and the new barangay captain who made my uncle the “justice something” which entitles him for a few penny as salary every month. The session ended still with my head held high. Johnny Walker failed to seduce me.

Day 2 – an invitation was received from high school barkada which includes a lengthy reminder that through the years since we part ways, I’ve missed most of the gatherings. By the end, I was too high droppin’ my pants kissing boys and girls left and right. Yeah, it‘s not only Miley Cyrus who could use some bong.

Day 3 – there was already a light disturbance in my head and in my stomach but the party shouldn’t stop. Some friends brought me to a few gimik spots in Bulacan which in my years of being Bulakenyo weren’t ever explored. The morning after, I went home with a slight hangover then went to my lolo’s grave for a few chat where I met this massive snake crawling towards me as I was crouching on the ground.

Day 4 – the most important of all night of alcohol and nicotine abuse, where my bestest friends and I jaunted 3 bars at one night for the so-called drowning of frustrations and “teenage angsts.” The plan went well for two of our members not to go get drunk [since they were the ones who are successful in their venture on romance] and pull the remaining 9 members who are either trying to lie down on the street or too busy trying to snatch the guard’s whistle. 
___

One blogger pointed out how bad my situation is doing these strings of drinking sessions and reminded me of the dangers it imposes on my health especially my gastronomical dilemmas.

Of course I am well aware of that. While the words of advices are well appreciated, I think my intelligence is enough for me to know what could hurt me and what cannot. I am f*cking awesome, you all know that.

First and most important point: I AM NOT DOING IT TO DESTROY MYSELF AND NEITHER FOR SOME [G]ODDAMN PERSON WHO CAUSED ME TEARS AND RESENTMENTS.

I am f*cking young and beautiful! And that gives me every right to do whatever the f*ck I want provided that I am taking care of my own shits and spending my own money.

Second, I am not in some weird-rebellious-drama-queen-period. Because after a long stretch of time, I WAS HAVING FUN! F*ck all the questions and f*ck all the reasons.

Lastly, I owe nobody any explanation! I can kill myself and nobody would care. Or should care. I don’t need any bastard to take good care me. So move your ass and scram!

The coming year, I know, is for me. And not because the Chinese Astrology would pay tribute to us born under the sign of Rabbit, but because I demanded it to. I demanded the stars and the planets to line themselves in favor of me, a mighty demigod. I demanded the Earth to spin progressively. I demanded Satan to bathe in the bloods of my enemies and the many other fallen angels who did not survive, unlike me.

The seven seas would be conquered and the mountains are to bow their heads. The gods and goddesses would laud this warrior and would take him in his rightful place. It is time to take what’s rightfully mine and for the tables to turn. The victim is now to fight back!

And as the great Captain Jack Sparrow always say: take what you can, give nothing back!


16
reaction(s)

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Christmas of Freedom

what is Christmas after all?
what does it really mean to someone like me?
and to you, dear love of mine?
how far am i from the joy you now have?
how near to your heart
that new being in your arms?

once again, memories would drown me
the woven thoughts that are left to ponder. 
in my confusion
in my pain
alone
i face the emptiness.

i look ahead and saw a path
dark, cold,
desolate
silent.
how could a healer fail
to heave
my wrecked dying heart?

        Should I write more sonnets to summon you dear?
        Should I pierce my chest to prove my love to thee ?

oh, the fragility of my youth
how could my feeble mind betray thee?

look, this body of mine is sworn
only to the delight of your soul.

how much this Christmas will reveal
the depth of space running between us?
oh, when will your faith
ever come to fill mine?

        The Christmas of freedom
        will come in time.

The concept of "Christmas of Freedom" is adapted from Maria Abulencia's poem
"Wounded Star"


This is for you, whoever you are. Lol. Di po nagdadrama si DB. Kasi naman nabobore na ko sa mga tao dito ayaw naman ako pauwiin. 'Yan di ko namalayan nakasulat na 'ko ng tula. Mas pagtuunan nyo na lang ng pansin yung artistic components 'wag na yung mga kaechosang drama, okay? Lol. 

Happy Christmas! Bukas at sa 25 batiin ko pa kayong lahat. 


15
reaction(s)

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

The Untitled Conversation

Bes: Kala ko ba ‘di ka na nag-iisip tungkol sa mga ganyan.
Me: Paminsan-minsan. Lalo pag nasa bus.
Bes: In almost 6 years na magkakaibigan tayo isa lang naman ang may lovelife sa ‘ten.
Me: Yeah right, si Coco. Ever since naman eh.
Bes: Maybe we’re too good for them.
Me: Or not! Bullshit!
(long pause)


Me: It’s just hard that I wasn’t just rejected. He didn’t allow me to show him how much I care for him…or yeah, how much I love him. God, I f*ckin hate that word.
Bes: But what would you want him to do? Sige nga…
(pause)
Bes: You know sometimes I think you’re just in love with the idea of being in love.
Me: And you thought of that because?
Bes: Because you’re one of the few persons I know who’s very independent. Gusto mo hawak mo lahat. Tsaka pag tinoyo ka, grabe pagka anti-social mo eh. Bigla ka na lang namumundok.
Me: Well maybe that’s why for once in my life I want someone to actually care and bother. Gusto ko na ma-experience magkajowa.
Bes: See? It’s just one of the many ideas and things you wanna try for yourself, like sleeping in a side-walk, maging barker ng jeep, maging cashier sa grocery…yung mga ganun mong idea. And you know what else I’m thinking? Tignan mo, puro yung nagugustuhan mo yung imposibleng magkagusto sa ‘yo…
Me: Tang ina gandahan mo yang sinasabi mo kundi ihahampas ko sa ‘yo ‘tong bote ng Red Horse. At bakit imposible nila ‘kong magustuhan?
Bes: Makinig ka kasi muna. Sabi ko. Parang you always want yourself hurting by the end. Gustong-gusto mong nasasaktan ka. Masokista ka Bes, alam mo yan. Sabagay lahat naman ng artist masokista. Dun kasi tayo humuhugot ng inspirasyon. I should know.
Me: Ulol! ‘Lam mo nagagaya ka na sa ‘ken. Masyadong ini-intellectualize ang mga bagay. Pero naisip mo naman siguro na 23 years old na tayo. Next year 24 na. Tanda na naten. Gusto mo bang mamatay tayo ng virgin?
Bes: Gago!
Me: Look, ikaw na lang at si Trish ang mga virgin sa girls. Ang putang Ralph naman nagpatira noong Undas. 'Tang ina, yung pwet nya ang tinirikan ng kandila. Hahaha, 
Bes: Hahahaha.
Me: Hahahaha.
(long pause)



Bes: The time for us will come, are you praying for it?
Me: Nope.
Bes: See? You’re too busy trying to save the world. Hindi lang kasi isang “jowa” ang nangangailangan sa ‘yo Bes. Maraming tao. Marami.
Me: Bes nakakapagod. What if ‘di na dumating. What if walang dumating for us?
Bes: Then we’ll be fine. We’ll be fine Bes.

Bes: Merry Christmas Bes.
Me: Merry Christmas Bes.

[It was the first time we cried in front of each other not for the reason that we’re fighting. We never talked about each other’s feelings. We never talked about our problems and the things that bother us. Usually, we’ll just sit side by side in silence and that’s it! Alam na namin pareho yun.

I did my best recalling the exact words we used and I think I did a pretty good job. I miss her so much and we rarely see each other now because of our respective impossible schedules.]

It’s goin’ to be a merry Christmas. It’s always a merry Christmas!

DBoy and his Bestfriend

21
reaction(s)

Sunday, December 19, 2010

Don't wanna party but my feet just keep tapping

Parties at ABS-CBN are to watch out for --exactly my thought 2 years ago when I joined the company. But not when I was forced to be a drag queen [don't ask for pictures coz I did my best destroying them plus a threat to sue the girl who posted them at Multiply] by the boss and represent the department and the yearly performance of Retrospect.

But there are fun moments, like last year's performance of the studio tours. Take a peek!

 

Here's my secret crush Robin. But since I'm a bitch, yeah, he knows it! =p


But this year, well not much fun. So I decided to drag some friends and go to a real party in a bar somewhere around the area.

I guess what I'm missing is the street party. It was more fun when the company would close the entire Eugenio Lopez Drive to motorists and employees would dance all night at the middle. Prices are even bigger then and the least you can get is a GC from Bench. Now, well not much. The only thing not changing are the cans of San Mig Pale Pilsen which I suspect are sponsored anyway.

It should be a time of giving and I thought as a company who advocates it we should start at our very own household first. But the idea of picketing former cameramen and technical crew just beside the high fences that separates us, I find the grand fireworks display and the thousand worth Christmas decors lucrative and ostentatious.



Merry Christmas Kapamilya!


___
"I hope that our wisdom will grow with our power and teach us that the less we use our power the greater it will be."
-unknown author
18
reaction(s)

Thursday, December 16, 2010

How do you measure a man?

Jasmine Pringles 

He’s a former heartthrob. The rebel hip-hop dude the chicks swoon over upon taking the center stage. He would count girlfriends and make them fall in love with him. He too fell in love with them girls, he admitted.

One by one, the list of schools in Cavite kicked him out. He would throw chairs, kick his teachers and would often bully other kids at school. He’s the king of troublemakers.

Now he’s no more king, for the king is now a Queen – a drag queen!

The stockings hid his manly strut as the fake breasts mount his seeming confidence. The colorful wigs flash feminine flames. The long lashes twinkling to the beat of gleaming lights. Make-ups carefully orchestrated emitting majestic air.

The crowd would marvel at her moves. She now graces the stage pouring her soul out, bearing her heart in an up-beat stir. That night on that local pub she works on, Jasmine Pringles is to be known Lady Gaga. Oh yes, she is Lady Gaga!

“Itong ginagawa ko wala namang masama. Tsaka ligal naman siguro ‘to. Wala nga lang papeles.” 

His family won’t believe him. They all thought, when he showed them his video dancing in drag, he’s just doing another rebellious act to piss his family off . He was a known rebel after all. But the truth, as blinding as it may appear initially, would always be the pounding truth.

“Kahit kabaklaan ‘tong ginagawa ko, may mapupuntahan din ‘to.” 

Later on they would accept the reality that is now. The family learned to nod over his beat. Jasmine Pringles got the blessings of his family.

“Dati ang tingin ko sa mga bakla kadiri. Nakakahiya. Ngayon okay na. Bakla na din ako.” 

How do you measure a man? Is it by his dick flamboyantly hanging between his legs telling the world how mighty and proud he is? Or could it be the amount of cosmetics he dares put on his body? When is a man a real man? What is the measure of a man?

For Jasmine Pringles, without hesitation, he is a proud genuine man!

“Now that I can do whatever I want and I know who I am, I can say that I’m a man." 

"I am a man.” 










adapted from STORYLINE 

by Patricia Evangelista and Paulo Villaluna 
Chapter 1: The Making of a Man


photo credit(s) screenshots from the episode. 
no intention of copyright infringement
____


Please watch STORYLINE on ANC 
Also at ABS-CBN Channel 2 every Thursday after Bandila
11
reaction(s)

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

Creed

I believe in the power of my pen. It can slowly torture a man on his way to death but it can also feed a man, allowing him live. It can capture someone's heart yet it can squash it with some simple stroke and simple thread of words. It can create truths and twist what is lie and illusion. The pen has its power. And I own that power.

I believe in stories. I believe that every story is worth hearing, all the more that they’re worth telling. I believe that every story has an invisible bond making up a single vast narrative. I believe fairytales are no truth. I believe fables are more probable. I believe in people who declare their stories. I believe I can be a voice to those who couldn’t tell their stories. All of us have our own stories. Every person is a story.

I believe in children. I believe I’m always a child inside and out. I believe in playing in our backyard; in a vacant lot and in rice fields. I believe that Santa Claus is my neighbor and that Jesus is my classmate. I believe in little kisses living in a matchbox cushioned with cottons. I believe in “once upon a time” and is curious about “happily ever after.” Innocence is that of a child’s voice. Faith is that of a child’s eyes.

I believe in music. I believe I make beautiful music. I believe that music is an expression, an escape and a way of life. I believe in every string of my guitar. I believe in every piano key I have. I believe in Lucio San Pedro and Ely Buendia; in Freddie Mercury and in Lady Gaga. I believe in opera, in chorus and in grunge. Now who can live without music? I can’t, can you?

I don’t believe in celebrities. And I don’t believe in love. But I believe in relationships. I believe in friendship and in sex. I don’t believe in fairies but I know there are monsters, ghosts and zombies. I don’t believe in hell but I believe in few vices which make life more enduring.

I believe in the mavericks, the scavengers and vagabonds. I believe in those who do not own an iPhone, those who think that a MacBook is a burger and that a PSP is a placement agency. I won’t say no to a rugby-sniffing- boy who invites me to share his lunch but I can think of a whole host of excuses not to consent on some stupid fancy dinner. I believe being poor is a privilege. I am poor. I am privileged.

I believe in hope, the power of trust and the vulnerability of a man. I believe in truth and in many other truths. I believe in justice. I believe in courage. But above all, I believe in freedom.

I am Désolé Boy.

Writer.

Peasant.

Believer.

Saturday, December 11, 2010

iBlog Mini: Blogging About Cases, Sub Judice, and Freedom of Expression

There are a lot of cases catching the attention of bloggers today meriting discussion. However, bloggers are also warned of "sub judice" resulting to confusion on what can be blogged about and not.

In this regard, on December 14, there will be an iBlog Mini forum where the theme "Blogging About Cases, Sub Judice, and Freedom of Expression" shall be tackled. This is organized by the University of the Philippines College of Law - Internet Society Program.

Tuesday, December 14 · 3:00pm - 6:00pm

2nd Floor Conference Room, UP Law Center, Bocobo Hall, UP Diliman, Quezon City

Click [here] for more info

___

I might attend this one depending on work schedule and persuasion of some people. But I won't be there as DB so if you happen to spot me there, don't mention anything about this alter-personae of mine. Bleh!

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Thank you is never enough. But I say it anyway

NOTE: This is a religious post. Skip if you're not into this kind of stuff. 

December 8 is always marked on my calendar. I never felt ashamed of denying work, explaining to my superiors why I have to absent myself. I would always say, it's the feast of Mary's Immaculate Conception and I have commitments in the Church. 

Last Tuesday, I was rushing to find myself a new Barong Tagalog for the mass. But of course the problem is money so going to the mall is definitely out among the choices. Instead, I hailed a jeepney and traveled all the way to Divisoria to solve the dilemma. 

I settled for the one with the chinese collar and it only costs me 300 pesos. Here it is: 



I thought my business in Manila is settled but then I remembered I need to buy flowers for the altar at home. So I jaunted from Divisoria to Dang Hua. You see, I acquired this image of the Immaculate Concepcion from my first salary working for ABS-CBN and so I am now in my third year as a recamadero (a term used to refer to a person who is an owner and keeper of an image)



So then, the mass at the Cathedral is officiated by our bishop together with the entire clergy of our Diocese. Here are few of my shots. 

The main altar of the Minor Basilica and Cathedral

Processional I
Processional II

Hermanos Mayores


The Priests of our Diocese


Our Bishop, City Mayor, Hermanos Mayores and the Comite de Festejos

This year of celebration of the Immaculate Concepcion is a huge thanksgiving for me. I always say this to people, "lumaki man ako na walang tatay, binigyan naman ako ng Diyos ng tatlong ina: my birth mother, my lola, and my mother in Heaven, Mary. 

You guys knew that I acquired Dengue last September. Yesterday my mother told me that when I was in hospital and she went home to get new clothes, she saw my rosary on my bedside table. She grabbed it and before she went back to the hospital, she paid a visit at the Cathedral. She told me, she knelt down facing the image of the Virgin Mary and she prayed: tulungan nyo naman po yung anak ninyo, nahihirapan na siya. 

Days after, September 8, the so-called birthday of the Virgin Mary, I was released from the hospital and was finally allowed to go home. 

I knew all the things I did and is doing were never enough to express how grateful I am. The year may not have been a good year for romance, finances etc., but I think narrowly escaping death twice is more than enough to say, indeed I am blessed. 

Times are tough but the thought of these special women of my life all praying for me is comforting enough. After all, I'm still one hell of a lucky a guy, don't you think?!


___
"O clemens. O Pia. O dulcis."
-Salve Regina

Wednesday, December 8, 2010

Maria

Maria, 
Your sweet eyes, I love to stare at
That sweet face I adore, I long for
No twelve stars can even compare, 
Nor the moon, crushed under thy feet
For that beauty, so sweet
So sweet Maria.

Maria, 
Your breath blew with tenderness
Softness incomparable
Touched by thy hands and
I am lifted, swayed gently
For you are heavenly,
Indeed heavenly Maria. 

[My entry, 2009 Marian Songwriting Competition]
18
reaction(s)

Monday, December 6, 2010

Once a 16 year old and a college dude

An old memory visited.

I was crouched on my bed watching Glee and the boys from Dalton Academy performed their version of Hey Soul Sister.

It took me back 7 years ago when I met this guy, 'twas 2003. I was a young 16 year old junior high school virgin, not really clueless but still indistinct with his sexuality. He on the other hand was about 20 to 21 years old in his senior year in college.

Here's how we've met.

It is, once again, a music competition and he was a member of an all male choir group of a College somewhere in Manila. I first saw him at the hotel's swimming pool where the delegates are staying. Funny that I can still picture him in my head even up to now. About the same height as I am now, 5'7, he's wearing red shorts and was naked from waist above. He wears dental braces and his hairstyle was the same with Jordan Herrera that time the Rexona commercial was hitting the air waives.

I was eyeing him for no definite reason. I thought I was just fascinated because he swims really well. But now that I'm not as "clueless" as I was, I think I was attracted then.

We were alone at the pool and finally, after a few more laps, he approached my by asking if I was also a delegate coz I'm clutching a music sheet that time. I stuttered as I answer yes to his question. The idea of a college dude talking to me was so disconcerting then.

 So that's how the conversation begun and we basically just talk about music before moving into something more personal.

He told me anecdotes of their concerts and other performances and basically life as a college student. He was kinda giving me a lecture about college life and asked what school I'm planning to attend after graudation. I told him how I was against the idea of my father sending me on a private institution for engineering students and that I just want to settle for a state university either in Diliman or in Manila. At that point he stared at me smiling then ruffled my hair. He stood up and asked me if I can come with him for a rinse.

So I agreed without the slightest malice and went with him at the shower area. But to disappoint you guys, nothing happened.

I just stayed outside the cubicle and the conversation continued. He dried himself up, caught glimpse of him in his underwear then we left the shower area with his hands on my shoulders.

He brought me to his hotel room afterwards but then again nothing happened and he just introduced me to his choirmates. When the time came for me to go to attend our rehearsals he simply just bade me goodbye. As I was heading towards the elevator, I heard him yelled my name and when I turned to look at his direction, I saw him grinning. He winked at me for the last time then entered his room in time that the elevator bell dings.

The last time I saw him was their performance night. I wish I could let you guys listen to their group's rendition of "Hard To Say I'm Sorry" and "Sana Maulit Muli" coz now that I recall them I feel like I can still hear them, him,  like it was yesterday. The only difference is that now I have this fantasy of him serenading me.

With memories of him now coming back, I remember the lines from the movie Kahit Konting Pagtingin.

Sharon: Ang problema sa 'yo, maaga kang ipinanganak.
FPJ: Ang problema naman sa 'yo, huli kang ipinanganak. 

I searched for him at Facebook but couldn't find him. I saw that one of his batchmates on the choir is now a member of the country's most prominent chorale group. But I haven't got a clue as to where he is now.

I wish I have the technology that I have now during those times. I wish I wasn't a late bloomer. Maybe if I'm not that young that time the story would've been different. I must confess I slightly wish now that he took advantage of me then.

Anyway, it's just another memory. Maybe tomorrow I'll get to remember a different one. Or would it be better if I make a new one?

His group's photo from the competition's souvenir program 



___
P.S.
Call it a strategy but I know you'll remember me if you ever happen to come across here. You were nice, I hope you know that.

___
"It doesn't matter if we will meet again. It doesn't matter if you will remember me. I just want to tell you a secret --- I love you."
-Lu Xiao Yu, Secret
14
reaction(s)

Friday, December 3, 2010

Deceptions



Deceptive Cadence is a chord progression that seems to lead to resolving itself on the final chord; but 
does not. 
14
reaction(s)

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Absurdities

Those pointless equations to which no solutions exists are called absurdities.




Chapter 3 Epigraph
THE GIRL WHO PLAYED WITH FIRE
by Stieg Larsson

Wednesday, December 1, 2010

Si Heidi, Si Ivy at si V


I'm inviting you all to please watch this film written by Wanggo Gallaga and directed by Neal Tan. A perfect duo to provide an inspiring and educating material in aid of an advocacy to promote awareness within Filipino audience. Premieres today, December 1, 2010, coinciding with World AIDS Day, at Robinsons Galleria.
___
photo credit: http://www.positivism.ph/
___
Also, visit Theorgy blog and read among entries condemning DISCRIMINATION concerning LGBT sector.

Click [here] for my contribution. Thank you.
16
reaction(s)

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

Pakiusap

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

katahimikan...





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

Tama na. Tahan na.

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




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

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

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

Miss na miss na kita






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

Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Never forget

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Remember these names. Remember their stories.

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

                       
27
reaction(s)

Friday, November 19, 2010

Para Sa 'Yo

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

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

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

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

Hehe.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHING! I love you tol!

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

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

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

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


Note: Bawal makornihan kung ayaw mong makonyatan.

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

CLUE: Basahin mong mabuti. Magbasa ka!
16
reaction(s)

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

The classic comedy

19th Century, Great Britain

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

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

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

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

The show will feature a comic opera by Sullivan.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now it is time for the main exhibition.

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

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


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

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

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

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

And with a last courteous bow, he left.

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

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

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

"This is why I love this. This is why I love comedy."
___
photo taken from http://www.angelpig.net
13
reaction(s)

Friday, November 12, 2010

Don't read this nonsense post

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You know who you are. Thank you. 
___

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

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

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

(Groans)
___

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

Thursday, November 11, 2010

Bereaved

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

















 kinuha ang mga larawan dito

23
reaction(s)

Monday, November 8, 2010

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



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

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

Ang loko. Ayun at mamimirata lang pala.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

May katuwiran siya.

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

Tama o mali?

Hindi ko alam ang sagot.

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

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

 

Copyright © 2010 Désolé Boy | Blogger Templates by Splashy Templates | Free PSD Design by Amuki