Scratches and Sketches: Some Recent Births and Deaths

The previous days have been hectic, both for death and for, er, say, the powers that (re)create matter, assuming that they are, what, disparate.

[Previous tumbler (coffee tumbler, not, er, a tumblog), uhm, design I, kind of, disposed. Original's in white background and blue lines. Inverted the colours, for, I don't know, fun.]

Let me begin with deaths, first of which is that of Jean Giraud aka Moebius, who passed away last March 10. Then, yesterday before sunlight intrudes to introduce another day, came the unexpected (well, what is not) arrival of Karl Roy at the, say, paradise he has been searching for, following the white light. (BTW, there has been another incident of robbery and stabbing in the UPLB vicinity, after three deaths due to criminal activity, [here] comes another. Muntik nang magkaroon ng ika-apat na estudyanteng paglalamayan dahil sa krimen. Ang isa pang worry ko lang naman sa ganito ay ang gawin itong batayan para sa extracurricular new improved surveillance dahil sa justification ng police presence. So, death din ito ng seguridad, bagamat matagal naman na itong naaagnas, lalo sa kaso ng mga tibak sa Timog Katagalugan. Ewan ko sa dekadens ng lipunang ito, ano. Gulo.)

I don't know, but such an exit from the particular plane being an entrance into perhaps another plane of existence feels heavy and easy at the same time. Maybe, it is because I know their work and not the artists themselves, but nonetheless, it feels, I don't know, inspiring? At the risk of the cliche trivializing death and accepting it as a consequence of life (well, it is), I think "they are in a better place" as most people say, which could have been realities they have already weaved while they existed among us: Moebius may be in his pastel-colored future outlined by his signature strokes and his fantastic visions of that future (his present) that may now be tangible for him, whatever tangible in that plane may mean or feel like. Karl Roy on the other hand may be jamming, literally high, up with his fellow fallen rock star heroes and friends overlooking mourners bidding their half-smiled farewells and soldiers of music saluting in gratitude of lives shared at the mosh pit or through head phones. They are in their respective paradisos.

Another "death" that deserves another paragraph is that of Encyclopaedia Britannica, allegedly murdered by Wikipedia and the internet. I am not quite sure whether the pages of those tomes, and the future pages that the internet aborted (or, is about to abort), would be happy in another place, another limbo. Or, maybe they are here, with us, adrift the cyberspace, their heaven, where data freely flows, something as double-edged as freedom. (And, an interesting read that does not directly have anything to do with matters discussed herein: Bringing Back the State to the Revolution, a commentary on the Occupy movements here and abroad, on the debate between anarchists and revolutionaries, and so on. In someway, somehow, it is related to, I don't know, (re)birth, right?) Now, I feel kind of, guilty, as I have been itching, desiring, for a long time, to sculpt the "heroes," or "google," or whatever of my childhood into an artwork, though it has already been done by other people. Oh, those pages should have had tasted the violence of, what, a swiss knife or any blade, for the sake of, yes, art and all the bullshit.

So, there, death of a French artist, of a local cult icon, and, uhm of a universal experience of, maybe, children hailing from around the middle class.

[Current tumbler (coffee tumbler, not, of course, a tumblog), er, design I birthed early this morning. Original's in white background and black line work. Inverted the colours for, er, fun.]

Now, these "births" are really just shameless plugs, so, let me make it as quick as possible. Sorry for the, I don't know, trickery, because er, *some text missing a.k.a. i am either out of words or i want to shut up about the missing text i did not dare blurt out* First is the January-February issue of the UP Forum, with my article "Community Sterilization and the Cataclysm."

Then, the artwork "symphony [iii]" and poem "Minanikang Makina" appear in the February issue of The Cabinet.

And, lastly, I am not sure, but I think Kilometer 64 Poetry Collective published my poem in their book Mga Panahon sa Hacienda Luisita, but I am almost certain that they did publish in Seldang Maginaw "TANAGA 4 x 7," the poem I have written for Calamba 7 (5 UPLB students and 2 activists from the community detained during the protest action at the 150th birthday, thing, of Rizal in Calamba. Among the five is Ynik Ante, the University Student Council chairperson-elect of the recent USC-CSC elections in UPLB whose position is being sabotaged and contested by evil people who, my prediction says, are going to be future leaders of this godforsaken, decadent, ill-valued third world country, if nothing "radical," er, "purges" these evil people [that put "Epoxy to shame," using De Quiros's words in his hard-hitting yet kinda Pnoy-leaning column today describing Corona] soon [details]).

Btw, KM64 celebrated their 9th anniversary at the Conspiracy Bar last night.