Pandora's Boxes [iv]: A Very Brief PeNoy review

Kinda busy. Here are yellow things to celebrate the blessings of King Inang Yellow. Since he failed to do a lot of his homework, I wouldn't say anything about his performance. Let's be mediocre. And be airbags! I find this bragging--of his efforts of getting rid of his constituents' apathy--quite arrogant, unless you want to suck his balls and call that confidence. That smug.

L Reform. A contribution to IMAHEngNASYON.

Ang Smiley. A contribution to Tulagalag 100. Posted here.

Spectacles(trikethrough) [vi]

Specs[ v][ iv][iii][ ii][ i]. Everything might be a work of fiction. This is fiction. The initial draft was written in an olde notebook that I have just named, now, Calliope. Haven't written something in her for a long while, after taking her for granted. How insensitive this delayed christening. Sad.

Let us complicate things. More complicated than conspiracy theories involving medicine and health. Fuck the mindfuckeries vigilant citizens preach as if they were fact. What if the doctors aggravate maladies or worsen malnutrition so they remain the answers to your prayers, as if they are heaven sent if they cure you of the illnesses caused by the very society they un/consciously serve? Aren't the same corporations that create antivirus programs the ones that create the viruses themselves? Just as the United Snakes create an Osama that later turns into the Frankenstein that they failed to control, as someone has already said? Point is, whatever discipline we are into, we do things to preserve our selves. Or, do we?

What if this wearing of spectacles, our wearing of spectacles in particular, goes "according to plan"? Whose plan? What plan? Is there a plan? Random is the plan, the framework, or the thought of the plan, the framework. The frame wherein lenses fit to aid us in what we are supposed to see. Who decides what we are supposed to see? Do we? Do you? Do some higher-ups live up to the messianic task or responsibility--or "burden" just like that of the white men?

Let us complicate things more. More complicated than art and society. The bullshit that we do--or we think we succeed in doing, that serves a purpose--or we believe does serve an essential role, no matter how grand or how trivial, to society. Art being something we think is as necessary as breathing, though we feel like it is an excess, or a vanity, that shapes society to an extent we may not be that aware of. What does that mean? I do not know. Nothing means anything these days. What I know is:

Art is something that binds us. Not us, humankind, but us--we as two individuals attempting to see the world in lenses that may be actual lenses, imagined lenses, or hallucinogenic, if not delusional, lenses observing a reality we think is the truth, a mindscape we feel is another reality, a psychedelia that we believe an "other" mindscape. Do not ask me

what that means. Do not ask me about the arts and the theories criticizing the arts and the society contextualizing the theories criticizing the arts. Do not even ask me about me. And the interactions or interrelations of the aforementioned matters and such to each other. Ask me about you. Or about us. Or about what this is all about. Do not expect a quick, straight response, though. Expect stuttering, breakdowns, stalling, interruptions, buckling, thunderstorms, stalling, apocalypses, sudden lisps, tongue twists, stalling, and other instant speech defects care of hot then cold deluge of water from both heaven and hell. Besides

the sense of sight and that of touch, my sense of taste begins to have troubles in gordian knots--not because I have an awful sense of taste caused by this awkward motherfucking cosmic yet quantum whatsoever, which cannot be represented in words for you but I am quite certain that the unnameable is some sort of "feeling," something more sacred than founded beliefs and deities; but because the sense of taste, the tongue, needless to say, is an organ associated with speech and explicit communication, unlike the so-called windows of the soul, the eyes, that speak in silence.

Let me complicate things further and add details. God is in the details, so, he might hear and see this and do something about it either to convince me of his benevolence and superpowers, or tell me to go fuck myself with the blasphemies I utter on a regular basis. I thought alcohol blesses men, and semi-men, and not-men, and ex-men and un-men with the courage they need to tell someone something to their face. God is dead, Nietzsche said, but someone insisted that god is red, thus he is in red wine or any equivalent beverage. I am not quite sure if all alcoholic drinks count as such, but let us say they do. If god is red and he is a spirit and he is in alcohol or even the alcohol, it seems like he is angry at me since he did not bother to help last night:

If my memory that often does me disservice serves me right this time, that was the third night that we tripped and talked together. I remember how you take off your spectacles from time to time while I have mine resting in its casket since I am wearing nano-domes of transparent plastic wrappers as visual help. Are our perspectives "corrected" then, since we can do without spectacles? Are we to lessen dependence on them? I thought my vision and yours are becoming clear as the starless night skies we drink away, but apparently, visions remain open and dead--deprived of interpretation and meaning. Also,

this was another of those few days when we see and did things out of the game plan, i.e., tripping and talking in spontaneity and uncertainty instead of doing something sophisticated and profound as projected--not that our tripping and talking ended as tasteless, unrefined, crass waste, but it is just that our tripping and talking was a bit too "lighthearted," whatever that means, compared to hardcore intellectual jousts oozing with splattered cerebellum, cerebrum and medulla--and sometimes, broken spinal columns.

Ironic how our conversations felt like clouds in broad summer daylight while my chest feels like a heavy tempest at burdened seas wreaking havoc at the so-called temple that god inconsiderately built in humans so he can reside somewhere and have a vacation during weekends. Let me complicate things up to the boiling point or freezing point, depending on how you look at it--as complicated as sending you an email with these--or a link to these--scrawls, with no other text than "read or click at your own risk. More disturbing than child pornography in 3D. You have been warned. Let the asexual facade wear off and may all who has eyes to see and ears to hear know that I have the sick capacity to desire."

Fuck this. Day is almost over and failed to send you any word yet.

Pandora's Boxes [iii]: Goddaughter

A pleasant coincidence. After posting a diabolical nostalgia, here I am sharing a portrait of my goddaughter. This was er... blue-penned a year ago. And up until now, I don't think I have given her anything, i.e. material things, that matter. I shall pay my debts soon. Happy Birthday and thank you for making me--

I hope I have balanced, or better "neutralized," the hearts and rainbows and unicorns and sunshine and other niceties of this post with the embedded video.

CarcositeNewsNet: Emoticon of Church and State

Palace: Eheheheheh ^_^'

The virtual community witnessed the concession of the Palace today saying that the nine-year Arroyo Queendom was not that bad at all. The crowbar duel was called off, contrary to the official declaration as reported yesterday.

Amputee Royal Spokesperson Galibail Voltage told Mala-Canan reporters that the King Inang Yellow monarchy utilized the Arroyo programs that "did not quite suck" and "worthy enough to be happy about, especially when you look at how she performed, but it's fine."

"Those who are saying that we completely discontinued the programs of the previous monarchy are liars and evil motherfuckers and rabblerousing assholes," Voltage added. "We are objective when we put programs into tests of relevance. We work on what works, as I've told you guise before."

She cited the Conditioning Cash Transmutation (CCT) Program, which is also the Kingdom's pride, other than that "very effective wang wang campaign against hassles and badtrips on the road."

"The CCT is from the efforts and greatness of the previous monarchy. It is fucking bullshit that we did not continue the said program. We just made it better and greater, but, needless to say, not greater than Cthulhu," Voltage said.

She also mentioned, with "a proud smug that an archbishop wants to knock off her face" according to a source, the Ministry of Health's "syringe program" and "anti-antiyellowfever campaigns" and "vanguards of firecracker victims during the New Year."

"I can enumerate a lot of our ass kicking, like the 2011 budget, the guilds and mercenaries that the Kingdom now controls, the Hali flood negotiations with, you know, star gods, if you know what I mean," she added. She stressed with that same smug that "the people's mindsets are changed" because they "look at the kingdom as a cool thing and not a motherfucking asshole."

"These are, indded, Yellow Signs," she almost ended. When asked about the crowbar threat she said, "What are you talking about?" I reminded her again about yesterday's news and she said she is late for her meeting.

Last Friday, following Thursday, Arroyo told the press that recognizing the gains of the previous monarchy and building on it is the mark of chivalry. Aw...

King Inang Yellow bagged the crown after telling the people that Arroyo is not that 'metal' at all because she is a miser, hoarding drugs and not sharing with her friends substances to be abused.

Arroyo said, "That's fucking bullshit."

Church: Waaaargh! >.<

"Almost a year in office, and King Inang Yellow wang wang (brags) about his ever victorious wang wang policy?," retired Lingkod-Dagukan Archbishop Oscar Grouch told me yesterday and I'm telling you about it.

"The nerve!," he added. "He is to celebrate his first anniversary as King and this is his cheap treat for all of us!" He also said that wang wang is not "that fab at all" and that the "promised straight path (pinangakong matuwid na daan)" is "nailed (napako) like that whore Mary Magdalene."

Grouch also criticized the "sloganeerings" (sic) of the Yellow King that remain "sons and daughters of the devil." When asked why, he said, "Son, you have not been reading the Bible. Satan is the father of lies. He is father to the King right now. If you continue that way, you'll be damned in hell with him."

"We are the King's boss? No corruption, no poverty? No wang wang no what? I am not being demanding. Much needs to be done more than observing silence while driving a porsche. The Philippines is not a library. It is a country, FYI," said Grouch, a former president of the Carcosa Bi Chambers of the Philippines (or is it Catholic Boy Craftlove of the Philippines? As of press time, the meaning of the acronym remains unconfirmed).

Grouch added that approval and trust ratings, not condoms, should be what the King concerns himself with. "Prepare for a magical storytelling this SOKA (State of the Kingdom Address). Record it too so you'll have a bedtime story with a happy ending to listen to, and fool yourself. God bless you all."

Oh, this is bullshit, btw. Distorted data from here and here.

Spectacles [v]

Specs[ iv][iii][ ii][ i]. Everything might be a work of fiction. This is fiction. Sad.

Mind's eye. Where have I read or heard the term? I suspect an animated media or a literary work--where most of the things I read or hear (or I thought I read or hear) resonates and reverberates as if happening right here, right now, without any sense of time and place. With this pair of a pair of spectacles thing going on, I wonder whether the mind would need all the help it can get to make blurry visions clear. And, put the where, the how and the why into the wonder to make things more complicated. Not recollecting what you want to recollect pisses the hell out of you. At least most of the time. It keeps on echoing, I just do not know where it is coming from. Mind's eye.

Spectacles within the spectacles. What the fuck are those? An eye aiding an eye that aids an eye? So, we push someone with such away by saying, "Fuck off, six-eyes!" I care less about six eyes, though. To stall-- Only eight eyes matter at this particular moment of a seeming writing prompt that borders somewhere in the lines of a semi-therapeutic writing exercise and a quasi-meditative disclosure of how my central neurological and cardiovascular systems are.

Six eyes are like films. The thinking cinematographer commutes from what the thinking director commutes from what the thinking scriptwriter commutes from what he observes. We are to be the cinematographer and director and writer of a particular film, i.e. The Movie. In our separate movies, we assign different roles to specific people. Our correspondence of function role to variable person are, more often than not, different. For instance, you may assign a certain person as your knight in shining armor or your hero, and I may give him the role of the villain or, to euphemize, the motherfucker that gets in the way of the antihero, i.e. the I. I hate how we see things differently, or how I think we see things.

Dialectics. Clash of the opposites that resolves into progression or regression, though regression may be a progress towards another end that might not be the end we thought we would want. My movie may be an antithesis to your thesis of a movie that shall eventually transpire and synthesize into The Movie.That is multi-leveled creation. That is collaboration. That is filling in what needs fillings. That needs to be done with utmost respect and precision and thought and heart. *cue: nausea* Spectacles aiding a spectacle that aids the eyes. Or is it?

Nevermind. I'm leaving despite the dark clouds that further obscure the sight.

CarcositeNewsNet: Palace readies crowbars (...)

Tsk. Fuck that headline. Anyway--

Palace prepares the longest crowbars vs. Arroyo, allies

Four fingers or "metal knuckles" are on. And not to mention, middle fingers.

Mala-Canan last thursday announced its fuck you and declared a real-time clan war versus Panga Rep. Gloriadiaz Pumalagka-Riot, the former queen or "the babylon royal whore queen of the Uncle SODOM (Superpower Omni-Dirty Old Man)" or Arroyo for short. Pun not intended.

"We have been defending ourselves from former president queen Arroyo. The hurtful offences damage our pure hearts, especially those cruel tweets in twitter. We wouldn't let such fuckery pass," said amputee royal spokesperson Galibail Voltage on kingdom-run dzAQ radio. "Word wars aren't man enough. Let's see how our crowbars break the balls they thought they have."

Voltage goaded Arroyo and her allies as well for resorting to lame "nye nye nye" blabber meant for kids. And their generalizations that are "gay."

On Friday, the day following last thursday, Arroyo remarked that the King Inang Yellow monarchy is "retarded" for "fucking up" and "screwing over ten million times to hell" the "grandeur brought to the country" by her nine-year Queendom.

"I left a very metal and very powerful economy pumped up through 10 motherfucking years of consistent killing of bad vibes," Arroyo said. "And this is what I get? A crowbar affaire d'honneur?"

"The kindom I left for him and my people," she added, "is so strong against the global crisis that we could laugh maniacally about it. Now, Asia recovers from the crisis, except our country. That is the problem. You (King Inang Yellow) are the problem, fucktard."

"Unsurprising, that piece of shit," Voltage said. "She is not even attending proceedings that would nail her like a whore to the prison bars, and now, she thinks she is so 'metal' because she triumphs with this media exposure whatsoever despite this evil weather. She is way more beyond the evilness (sic) of the weather though."

Faulken, the evil tropical storm named after the villain with black wings of the anime the Vision of Escaflowne, was here with us at the time Arroyo lured the media with yummy food for a press briefing in her hometown.

"That douchebag, feeling like she is the center of the universe!," Voltage said and furthered that Arroyo loves it when she is "treated" like a "princess" instead of an "old ugly queen." She added, "Arroyo is stalling! Yes, She is! Such press conferences are diversionary tactics, to shun the focus away from her impotency and impunity and such things that would hold her Queendom accountable!"

Voltage also insisted on the exclamation points while the draft of this article is being done. Do not blame us, please. Some of our writers have been having trauma with accusing fingers pointing at us as if everything is our fault. Sad.

No bodies home? Fuck that!

In her Saturday taping, following Friday, Voltage said that the Kingdom "works" on the programs of the past Queendom that "works." She added, "Thus, we are using a few programs, because her (Arroyo's) programs suck."

She also answered Arroyo's "no body home" assessment of the Kingdom. "There are no bodies home, because we dump people we kill right after. We are not here to parade how metal we are by letting the remains remain."

"Plus, the calamity funds," Voltage added. "You know about it. She spent it on her stuff for posing as the most metal queen ever. Ask the cabinet secretaries how the horror of not having funds haunts us, and you might outhorror Lovecraft."

"Fuck that 'no bodies home' statement," Voltage ended. "I am not sure what she means so I'm keeping my mouth shut about it. But not my crowbar."

Voltage was not yet done, sorry, "What 'danger signs,' Arroyo? During the first year of the Kingdom, less people were hungry, the economy was progressing, and stuff, are those danger signs? Those are Yellow Signs. Our policies are working."

I think she is done speaking. She left with something violent and crooked in hand.

Oh, this is bullshit, btw. The second this day.

The first one, here. The source / inspiration of this article, here.

Pandora's Boxes [ii]: 8 Demons

Oh, a new header / banner / whatsoever. Joy.

Though we all know that the evils of this millennium culminates with the most relevant issue of these times, i.e. the Onion not getting a Pulitzer Prize despite its outstanding contribution to the world with its high-caliber journalism powered with dedicated journalists who want nothing but to bring you the facts even without an award and desperately mad loyal supporters who would do anything for truth and justice, there are other issues that deserve attention (though let me emphasize, again, and clarify, again, that the Onion deserves more than all attention it can get such as the Pulitzer Prize, goddamnit!). And this concerns your children and the future of your grandchildren. And their grandchildren's clones.

Demons lurk amongst us, and one of them celebrated a birthday back then when they were exposed by Saviours and Soldiers of God and God's Truth (SAGOT) to the public. How arrogant those demons are! No demon has the right to celebrate birthdays or proclaim the day of their birth, for chrissakes! About two years passed and recently, another among their ranks celebrated his birthday through an esoteric occult ritual that the public would never suspect of being a satanic rite--dancing a new world order dance in the rain while screaming unholy incantations to wash their sins away and save themselves--without a christ! How proud and Luciferian!

This rite occurred after this guy and six of his cohorts (so, they were seven! see how they blaspheme God? they even used God's number instead of the Devil's number, six, and imprison themselves to manipulate media attention!) were freed by their co-demons from the Hell where God placed them to atone for their sins. The unrepentant sinners even marched from Hell to earth proclaiming victory over God and his warriors of righteousness. The same unrepentant sinners were asked by the soldiers about other demons they knew since knowing a demon's name gives you a decent chance of capturing them. Surprisingly, the list of demons names demons that were already labelled demons by SAGOT back then. Here's an archived video documentary of the demon hunting (yes, gritty camera movement! that's indie / alternative media! this creepy video still gives me the creeps!):

The bane of humanity, i.e. these demons--the seven, the eight, the sixteen, the fifty four, the one hundred, whatever the number and to whatever Legion they serve--shall turn to God and righteousness as long as they still have their souls to surrender to the Almighty. Get the Onion a Pulitzer to have an in-depth reportage further fortified by thorough analysis of issues such as these and secure the future of your children. And their grandchildren. And their grandchildren's clones. Before it is too late and we end in either a zombie or a robot apocalypse.

Oh, this is fiction, btw.

Spectacles [iv] x Fete

Stuff that might interest you more than this post:

Lateralus x obZen && The QBCCColour ending /

UNDER THE STORM shortlist @ the 4th .MOV

International Film, Music & Literature Festival

(Two posts for a day is too much. Ugh. Fuck this.)

Specs[iii][ ii][ i]. Everything might be a work of fiction. This is fiction. Sad.

Fourth of the Spectacles

My lenses are windshields under the harsh, merciless, inconsiderate splashes of a tempest that comes not just from my core but from the wrath of the heavens, further blurring my vision whether it is day or most when it is night. Like the temperature that was once humid or muggy leaving an icky dampened feeling on the skin and an oily haggardness on the faces with smiles borne out of stars and hearts despite the stress and unwanted heat, you turn cold.

The sudden turn was a pang not just in the ego but also in the worlds that we are to create, or conquer had they been created. Worlds that expect us to either create or conquer them. Or, maybe, I am daydreaming. I was daydreaming. There were no spectacles. There was just me and my yearning for the point where our eyes shall meet after our foresight and insight and hindsight breaks through the barriers, ie, our spectacles. For now, it seems like our line of sight are parallel lines. Hoping for parallel lines to intersect is no different from praying to mainstream gods.

***

Fete vs. Falcon

I have been having second thoughts since yesterday whether I'll brave Falcon for Fete de la Musique. You on the other hand could have been having no thoughts anymore about going or not because-- Even Fete herself has been bothered by Falcon. There are even rumours of an adjustment with regards to venue due to legal shiznit. Weird how legal whatsoevers matter more than the weather disturbance named after a ...bird. Well, he proved his being a bird, or a dick by flapping his wings so hard that a lot of weekend events and gettogethers and bondings and other such type of warmth are cancelled. Cold. Cold is the new black. Cold treatment. Harsh. [News said he'd stop being a dick in a while, tho.]

Or, maybe, I'm just thinking too much of things I should not be thinking about, hence I shouldn't write about or disclose. But, also, remember that you are here because you chose to be here. I am not shoving blog entries such as this up your throat--as I have begun not posting "series" (or, to euphemize, "bullshit teenage-angst rant that wouldn't accomplish anything or reach anyone or satisfy any need of anyone but my need to vent out, motherfuckers") even on my personal accounts in social networking sites that fuck the hell out of me most of the time. That is all. Ending this post during a gloomy, rainy day with--

Lateralus x obZen && QBCCColour End

(Tried using tech pen with ballpoint pen and I am not too happy with it. Tweaked the drawing a bit in photoshop, though I'd rather not. Yep, no one's asking. I know.)

Crossbreeding ideas feels somewhat divine. Attempts such as this are not intended to blaspheme the purity or whatsoever of the entities fucked together. This is actually a high form of worship. Whatever the fuck that means. Anyway, here's LateralobZen. Had I been able to do mash-ups such as this one by Wax Audio (tori amos x pj harvey x bjork x massive attack = wasak), I would have done so.

LateralobZen

or Qabalah x Zen

Black then white are all I see in my infancy. Red and yellow then came to be, reaching out to me. Lets me see a state of perfection, immersed in filth. Equilibrium obtained. As below, so above and beyond, I imagine drawn beyond the lines of reason. Push the envelope. Watch it bend. Pure in devotion to all things unwell. This sweet zen of our ill condition sustained.

Over thinking, over analyzing separates the body from the mind. A new belief-system. Salvation found in vomit and blood. Withering my intuition, missing opportunities and I must feed my will to feel my moment drawing way outside the lines--where deprivation, lies, corruption, war and pain is god.

Black then white are all I see in my infancy. Red and yellow then came to be, reaching out to me. Balance. Harmony found in the sickly, the vile lets me see there is so much more and beckons me to look through to these infinite possibilities. Unflinching eyes, joyous and gleeming, as below, so above and beyond, I imagine drawn outside the lines of reason. Push the envelope. Watch it bend. Intense in their need to watch things die.

Over thinking, over analyzing separates the body from the mind. A new belief-system. Salvation found in vomit and blood. Withering my intuition leaving all these opportunities behind--where deprivation, lies, corruption, war and pain is god.

Feed my will to feel this moment urging me to cross the line. Reaching out to embrace the random. Reaching out to embrace whatever may come.

Decay, disgrace, disgust - our state of zen.

I embrace my desire to the grime of contempt and degeneration, feel the rhythm, to feel connected enough to step aside and weep like a widow to feel inspired, to fathom the power, to witness the beauty, to bathe in the fountain--sticky, foul and pungent, to swing on the spiral of our divinity and still be a human.

With my feet upon the ground I lose myself between the sounds and open wide to suck it in, I feel it move across my skin. The sediment of our creation. I'm reaching up and reaching out, I'm reaching for the random or what ever will bewilder me. And following our will and wind we may just go where no one's been. We'll ride the spiral to the end and may just go where no one's been. We flourish in this bloodred soil.

Spiral out. Keep going, going...

(Lateralus by Tool [news?] & obZen by Meshuggah, lyrics here & here respectively.) And finally, the final set of the QBCCColour series! I decided to upload the last whole page now---panels 9 & 10 & 11 & 12. Panels 7 & 8 here. Panels 5 & 6 here. panels 3 & 4 here. First set here.

Note: Click the "komix" label, "read" the QBCCColours and dig the catch. :L

Pandora's Boxes [i]: Jumpstarting Nostalgia

Had I really learnt how, I hope I could re-learn vector imaging, or whatever it is called. Today I begin another thing among other things I have began (and oftentimes failed to sustain, but it's fine!): unearthing files and attempting to say something about it. This was created way back 2006.

I have this obsession with unborn motherfuckers and I have no idea what that might mean or might say about me and my subconscious. These weird images or visions or whatever you want to call them eventually became my first er... illustrated narrrative--"Ang Engkwentro sa Palma Bridge ng mga Batang Pinalaya(s) sa Sinapupunan," or, roughly, "The Fun of the Aborted Kids." :L This was originally submitted as a class requirement, just like "Lihim ng mga Lespu." Here's an "old" news. Anyway, since I've began showing a pair, here's another pair--the two covers of my first er... zine. This zine was released 2007. The reprint last year, 2010.

The next installment or sequel or prequel since time does not matter would soon be released by KarMa Kolektib (After four years? :L Haha, tagged you bilang pressure, ha, ka-collab. Joke. Pero, take your time. Haha.). Like the fanpage here.

(Would do something to make entries such as this er... happier.)

June 28 addendum for more effects. Remembered this vid because of this 30dayshit

Spectacles [iii]

Stuff that might interest you more than this entry: QBCCC panels 7 & 8 + Another Komiks Blog | QBCCC panels 5 & 6 + Radicalism, Rizal, Calamba 7 | UNDER THE STORM shortlist @ the 4th .MOV International Film, Music & Literature Festival

Everything might be a work of fiction. This is fiction.

It has been a long while since then. It seems like things are not working. Or things are not yet working. Or things are, well, things that we need to rework if we want things to work. Or maybe, you don't see the things I see. "To see someone who does not see is the best way to be intensely aware of what he does not see," whispers Roland Barthes as I take it in another context. Or, maybe, I don't see the things you see. Wordweb on the other hand tells me that a pair of spectacles is an "optical instrument consisting of a frame that holds a pair of lenses for correcting defective vision." We are a pair of a pair of spectacles (or that's how it appears to me) who may both be the other and the someone, who sees the other as the one who does not see, thus aware as well of what the other does not see and maybe we have to correct our defective vision. How can we do so, you ask?

I am also quite unsure of the process, but I think, for the sake of my self and my sanity and the preservation of the space I occupy in this plane of existence, we have to settle things--this is not about you and your good. Or, I have to make a point and tell you that there is a possibility that we may be seeing through different lenses in aspects such as the tint, the coating, the thickness, the type, and such. The problem is, I do not know how to tell you about how I see things and I do not know what you know about how things are and I do not know whether telling you is really an appropriate thing to do at this moment when things are not the way they should be. At least for me. Each time I look at your record, I see something that cracks not my specs but my os frontale. And, not to mention, my spirit. And core.

Now you'll further know. You should. Connect the dots. As you say: Sad.

And Another Attempt x QBCCColour

An anything-goes-blog-illustrated-status-message-whatever here. and another:

I intend to maintain this new komiks blog. I intend to hope I would. I edited both the banner and the first komiks already. Still undecided what and how the "character" that represents the "self" would look like. Ugh. Anyway, panels 7 & 8 are here. See panels 5 & 6 here, panels 3 & 4 here and panels 1 & 2 here.

30-day song challenge list shit

Today is my 7th day for this shit. So, free the Calamba 7!

(To be updated as days go by. On second thought, I'd fill this now and update facebook as days go by. I'd fill these in whenever I feel like doing so, to remind me of the challenge. Whatever that means. Started at June 14. btw. This is not relevant to your life. Go away and read relevant things here, here and here.)

day 01 - your favorite song: Black Pearl Jam

day 02 - your least favorite song: Mammagamma The Alan Parsons Project

day 03 - a song that makes you happy: Prayer of Death Entrance

day 04 - a song that makes you sad: Conyo ka Pare Yano

day 05 - a song that reminds you of someone: A Mistake Fiona Apple

day 06 - a song that reminds you of somewhere: Slow Kapatid

day 07 - a song that reminds you of a certain event: Moonlapse Vertigo Opeth

day 08 - a song that you know all the words to: Ktulu (He's So Heavy) Beatallica

day 09 - a song that you can dance to: As The Worm Turns Faith No More

day 10 - a song that makes you fall asleep: Light My Fire Massive Attack

day 11 - a song from your favorite band: Liquid Tension Experiment Acid Rain

day 12 - a song from a band you hate: Vermillion Slipknot | tas Slapshock din

day 13 - a song that is a guilty pleasure: That Man Upstairs Voltaire

day 14 - a song that no one would expect you to love: A Case of You Tori Amos

day 15 - a song that describes you: RoadsPortishead|TwistKorn|KarmicGreyhoundz

day 16 - a song that you used to love but now hate: Boiler Limp Bizkit

day 17 - a song that you hear often on the radio: All my Life Foo Fighters

day 18 - a song that you wish you heard on the radio: Potions Puscifer

day 19 - a song from your favorite album: The Patient from Lateralus by Tool

day 20 - " that you listen to when you’re angry (Can't choose! I'm so angry now!):

Cochise Audioslave | CalmLikeABomb RATM | Combustion Meshuggah

day 21 - " that you listen to when you’re happy: Signs of the Zodiac Rasputina

day 22 - " that you listen to when you’re sad: You Said Something PJ Harvey

day 23 - " that you want to play at your wedding: DayOfTheBaphometsTheMarsVolta

day 24 - " that you want to play at your funeral: Summer Breeze Type O Negative

day 25 - " that makes you laugh: BringMeTheHeadOfAndyWarhol PolkadotCadaver

day 26 - " that you can play on an instrument: Cemetery Silverchair (amfeeling!)

day 27 - a song that you wish you could play: Path Apocalyptica

day 28 - a song that makes you feel guilty: Your Shameful Heaven My Dying Bride

day 29 - a song from your childhood: Bilanggo Rizal Underground (HAHAHAHAHAHA)

day 30 - your favorite song at this time last year: 7 Nation Army The Flaming Lips

Pfft. No Gil Scott-Heron? :L Owell. Please do report a broken link. Kthnxalotbye.

Today's Ironies x Father's Day X QBCCColour

Besides this article about faux revolutionaries being written by a, say, free radical, well there are other things I find interesting today. Let me cite three: 1) the said article; 2) Rizal Day x Father's Day; and 3) how my gut feels (very relevant!).

I have read the article yesterday but I do not feel like saying a lot about it then, so, here it is with other unsolicited commentaries. If you have read the article (or "praise release" perhaps?), you'll notice how the last paragraph lost of its track and became its own Frankenstein. As Nietzsche said, "He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster." (I think we've all become monsters at some point but *stalling here*) Oh, the horror of ending an anti-hipster piece with an invitation to a very radical and very revolutionary event, ie Rock Ed's celebration of national super hero Rizal's 150th birthday!

Takes me back during my college days when there were, as far as I remember, issues with Rock Ed discouraging--on-stage! on the February Fair stage! the stage that was historically where protests are, well, staged against the tyrant who is to be buried like a hero!--(I am not sure if this was XL's or Chaba's University Student Council term)--let's rewind a bit since I've been agitated once again, here's what they did, as far as I can recall: Rock Ed discouraged students to join the mass movement, saying something like if you can't go rah rah rah with raised fists on the streets, you can struggle in your own way, and take pictures of yourselves as advocates of things like global warming and animal cruelty and other cool stuff, where stuff are revolutionary causes. That was very Iskolar para sa bayan, very turn-off-your-lights-for-the-earth-hour-ish. But this is not to discredit efforts to contribute to a cause. This is to shatter romanticism that does not cause any good but serve the vanity of the advocates. Cant explain any further. I think much has been written about being advocates of something but remaining comfortable--which, again, is not that bad at all (or not THAT bad). Just, fuck the romanticism out of it. Here are remarkable ones that I have managed to remember without bookmarking them. Google and my weak memory are powerful enough to locate these articles. See more about social networking activism here (Malcolm Gladwell), slacktivakism here, and green revolution things x charity here (RSA x Slavoj Zizek).

Next stop: Rizal x the capitalists' strategy to make us spend more-->Father's Day. I've been skeptic with these er.. happy days of celebrations that seem to be increasing every year. Anyway, don't you find that ironic? Rizal did not legitimately father any child (if he did, please do tell me and I'll strikethrough this paragraph, oh, yes! Hitler, among others! striking through!) and here is his birthday coinciding with Father's day. Or, maybe, he is more fatherly because he did not know who, or where, or how his children are. Being more fatherly is more manly. Having an international array of "chics" makes him er.. manlier, which does not sound right. This is not going anywhere anymore, so, I'll stop the irony under consideration here and greet Dr. Jose P. Rizal with that viral image up there (source) that made a lot of peope I know ROFL and LOL.

Lastly, something that matters most! How nauseated I am. I feel like er... puking though I have not eaten a lot lately. I usually feel this when I feel sick and emo about things, but this time, I am surprised with this familiar nauseating feeling that does not have anything to do with being tired of life and all those teenage angst--I am, in fact, feeling like high with the life that I think I have. And, I haven't even been drinking coffee, yet my gut feels er...disturbed--so disturbed that I feel like it would throw up anything that attempts entry. I used to blame caffeine for this nauseating sensation or whatever this is supposed to be termed. Caffeine is not the culprit, then. Now, I have to suspect someone and something, and blame that someone or something so I could point out and explain why I feel the way I feel. Why do I have to do these things again? Anyway

here's panels 5 & 6 following this post that followed this post:

a lengthy postscript: if it were true the youth were the hope of the people shackled by this system (according to Rizal), why detain the youth, Mr. President? (kung ang kabataan ang pag-asa ng bayan, bakit sila nasa kulungan?)

Let me end with another irony, hence this: "BREAKING NEWS: 8 individuals including 5 UPLB student leaders are currently detained in Calamba following a lightning rally held during the commemoration rights of the 150th Birth Anniversary of Dr. Jose Rizal. President Aquino was present in the event when students Mikel Mozo (Anakbayan UPLB), Cathy Gigantone (Gabriela Youth UPLB), Bhen Aguihon (League of Filipino Students-UPLB), Ynik Ante (University Student Council-UPLB), Ruffa Solano (National Union of Students of the Philippines-ST) and 2 members of Anakpawis and a non-affiliated individual express disgust on Aquino's anti-people policies. For more information, contact Julienne Urrea (09234690340) or Pau Bautista (09161483935) of Kabataan Partylist-ST. PLEASE SHARE."

Click here for updates, but you'll need an FB account.

Click here for Kabataan Partylist-Southern Tagalog's press release.

Click here for news of Aquino's commemorating Rizal--and detaining the Youth.

(Edited this post at 04:38 the next day 06202011. And they are still detained. here are updates re: how the turn of events went so you wouldn't have to use facebook:

BREAKING NEWS (as of 10:30): 8 individuals including 5 UPLB student leaders are currently detained in Calamba following a lightning rally held during the commemoration rights of the 150th Birth Anniversary of Dr. Jose Rizal. President Aquino was present in the event when students Mikel Mozo (Anakbayan UPLB), Cathy Gigantone (Gabriela Youth UPLB), Bhen Aguihon (League of Filipino Students-UPLB), Ynik Ante (University Student Council-UPLB), Ruffa Solano (National Union of Students of the Philippines-ST) and 2 members of Anakpawis and a non-affiliated individual express disgust on Aquino's anti-people policies. For more information, contact Julienne Urrea (09234690340) or Pau Bautista (09161483935) of Kabataan Partylist-ST. PLEASE SHARE.

UPDATE (as of 13:30): PNP Calamba files alarm and grave scandal against 7 activists--5 from Kabataan Partylist-UPLB and 2 from Anakpawis-Southern Tagalog today following a lightning rally held during the commemoration rites of Rizal's 150th birth anniversary."We condemn the trumped up charges filed against our members whose only crime is to expose and oppose social injustices under the Aquino regime. If Rizal were alive today, he would have joined our ranks in expressing dissent against this repressive state," Julienne Urrea of Kabataan Partylist-UPLB.

UPDATE (as of 14:45): 5 members of Kabataan Partylist-UPLB and 2 members of Anakpawis-Southern Tagalog are now under medical examination. Meanwhile, BAYAN-ST led condemnation rally is being held at the gates of Calamba City Hall. Reference: Pau Bautista (09161483935)

UPDATE (as of 15:00): "As of 3:00PM today, the 7 individuals remain detained and are filed with charges of alarm and grave scandal case and are requiring each a P6000 bail. “We will not give in to these conditions that only disregard the heroic role of the youth. We call on everyone to show support and join us in calling for their immediate release. History has taught us that nothing else but the Filipino people’s collective action can create genuine change,” Bautista stressed." Lifted from the Press Release of Kabataan Partylist-Southern Tagalog.)

Tongue Ina x UNDER THE STORM shortlist

After a conversation with a friend a while ago, I thought of drawing* this which is based on an image we have came across during our exchanges. Then I attempted to crossbreed the image with Nyarlathotep, aka The Crawling Chaos, an Outer God from the pages of Lovecraftian lore.

AND it felt good after knowing that I made it on the shortlist of UNDER THE STORM: An Anthology of Contemporary Philippine Poetry. This is the reason why I exclaimed "Tongue Ina" and attempted to relate it with the drawing so it would seem that the image and this shameless plug actually have something to do with one another. I would copy and paste the waves of the shortlists here together with the press release on the festival's facebook page. (I have also removed the numbers to make the long shortlist seem really short.)

"We’ve received over 290 submissions for the anthology. Our sincerest thanks to everyone who has submitted. We are choosing 113 poems from 113 of the poets who’ve submitted. This is in commemoration of our 113 years of Independence, of being Filipinos, of being Filipino writers.

(FIRST SET)

Hereunder is the initial shortlist of 50 (in no particular order) from whose submissions one poem has already been selected by the editors. The others are still being read closely.

Ricardo M. De Ungria | Simeon Dumdum Jr. | Marc Escalona Gaba

Mesandel Virtusio Arguelles | Romulo P. Baquiran, Jr.

Bienvenido Lumbera | Marjorie Evasco | Eliza Victoria

Jose Dalisay, Jr. | Gemino H. Abad | German V. Gervacio

V.E. Carmelo D. Nadera, Jr. | Jose Wendell Capili

Oscar Tantoco Serquiña | Angelo Ancheta | Bert Sulat, Jr.

Lourd De Veyra | Allan Pastrana | Eric Gamalinda |

Asterio Enrico Gutierrez Rafael Antonio San Diego | Ricky Torre

Santiago Villafania | Marne Kilates | Cesar Ruis Aquino

F. Jordan Carnice | A. M. Lazada | Ed Maranan | Ian Rosales Casocot

Ramil Digal Gulle |Jose Jason L. Chancoco | Eva B. Gubat

Voltair Q. Oyzon | Deedle Rodriguez-Tomlinson | Tanya Sevilla-Simon

Jose Leonardo A. Sabilano | Israfel Fagela | Jacob Walse-Dominguez

Michael Carlo C. Villas | Denver Ejem Torres | Marella Castro

Karl R. De Mesa | Dakila Cutab | Jeanilyn Kwan | Emil Os

Arlene J Yandug | Bendix M. Fernandez | Joel Vega

Joseph De Luna Saguid | Kristian Sendon Cordero

(SECOND SET)

Hereunder is the second shortlist (again, in no particular order) from whose submissions one poem has already been selected by the editors.

Homer Novicio | Patrick Rosal | Luchie Maranan

Mookie Katigbak-Lacuesta | Carlos Piocos | Jun Cruz Reyes

Jose F. Lacaba | Panch Alvarez | Noelle Leslie Dela Cruz

Ronan B. Capinding | Ramon Damasing | Glenn Diaz

Lolito Go | Christa Dela Cruz | Jan Brandon Dollente

Christine V. Lao | Michael Coroza | Teo T. Antonio

Elaine lazaro | Axel Pinpin |Ned Parfan |Roberto Ofanda Umil

Lito Casaje | Doms Pagliawan | Iñigo De Paula

(THIRD SET)

Jose Marte Abueg | Rebecca Añonuevo | Andrea Teran

Bebang W. Siy | Benilda Santos | Arbeen Acuña

Mark Angeles | Ayrie Ching | Alain Russ Dimson

Boni Fojas-Almirante | Mikael De Lara Co | Mads Bajarias

John Labella | J. Neil Garcia |Zosimo Quibilan, Jr

Joel Pablo Salud | Danny Castillones Sillada | Ramon C. Sunico

Christian Tablazon | John Iremil Teodoro | Soleil Erika Manzano

Fidel Rillo | Ainne Frances dela Cruz

John Enrico Torralba |Joi Barrios

4th .MOV International Film, Music, & Literature Festival

September 1 to 3, 2011 www.facebook.com/movfest

www.movfest.org

The Filipino is NOT a theory. We must weather all these storms."

Glad to see famous and familiar names on the list. The poetry anthology shall be launched this September 2, 2011 during the 4th .MOV International Film, Music, & Literature Festival. This list already named a hundred poets. Thirteen to go.

*used a blue pen since I am out of blank inks again. ugh. :[

QBCCColored x Spectacles [ii]

Panels 3 & 4. This post is in continuation of this post as mentioned in this post. If you have not "read" my first QBCCC entry yet, then you may "read" it here, as I post er... its colored version. But you will have to wait. Waiting is okay. Waiting is fine. Waiting is--wait, this isn't supposed to be here so

I'll just say that I'll add another tab soon and describe what and why and how the carcosite is. As if that matters to anyone. I'll assume it matters, so I can write about it. We, at times, have to "assume the right to make others think," as mentioned somewhere where someone/s found something/s.

***Beyond this point are more matters you won't give a fuck about. Trust me.***

Everything might be a work of fiction. This is fiction.

I've stopped with my bi cycling, but I am still attempting, but I would no longer tell anyone about it. I have started wandering using spectacles--that I am quite unsure whether those spectacles are mine alone, or yours alone, or ours. And this is what I wanted to tell people about, but I can never ..for now? I am not sure whether it would just be for now or I'll just keep things to my self and this public space; that can shed both light and darkness to what we see and how we see and why we see; that hides under the label of fiction, though all fictional narratives are based, in one way or another, on the "nonfiction" or real time events, which is something hard to tell these days. Anyway, I am looking forward, still, to your looking forward to what stages we have set and what challenges we would take on. Without you knowing that this is about you or without me knowing that you already know that this is about you. OR replace all the "knowing" in the previous sentence with "feeling" and let us see if that would make more sense. And gayness, if that is what thou wilt.

I would like to see things the way I did before--in red and black--which might sound, I don't know, what is the new stereotype associated with those colors these days? emo? vampire? goth? satanic? communist? anarchist? guerilla? poseur? soviet? katipunero? I don't know how I sound like, but I know I want to see how I see before and add neon green or neon blue to it and make things seem more clear and in 3D and in a natural high of actual hyper-reality or post-reality or whatever prefix or pre-word (or whatever word coined by whoever can coin a word) it would take to describe how drugged I feel when I am with you and we see through each others' eyes through each others' spectacles--and in the process, we peek at each others' minds, without knowing what all our encounters and gettogethers are really all about. At this point, I'd rather not know. I would not want to know. Unless you already know and you wanted me to know

and you would understand or, at least, pretend to understand, or let me understand why you do not understand. Weird how this nightmare with you appeals to me not because you are terrible to be with, but because I know this will end in one way or another. I find temporary nirvana in the vagueness of the vision of the future with/out you, though it scares the fuck out of me at the same time. And maybe, since everything dies, I shouldn't worry and I should stop thinking about any death--including the possible death of what we share.

500 Qs & As, QBCCC & color

I've already answered the 500th question in formspring today. I've learnt photoshop, or at least that is how I feel like. And here is half of the first page of my entry for the 1st volume of QBCCC as promised (Yes, I have finished my entry for the second volume! Nung.. basta matagal na, tinamad lang ako mag-update kasi, basta! Madaming shit). That is all. I thank you. I have to convince my self that I am being productive. Thus, this post

Bi Cycle [iii]

Everything might be a work of fiction. This is fiction.

Fuck those broken wheels. Fuck this post. Fuck this fictional post. I opted to walk. Walking makes you think less of the bicycle and whether you are still in balance or whatever you are supposed to think about while riding a bike. I have been to many places with my metaphorical bike. Yes, in case you didn't notice, the bike is not an actual bike. And this isn't actually fiction. Fictional narratives are still based on nonfiction, so, everything is fiction and nonfiction at the same time, because nothing is purely truth or purely bullshit. Though there are people who talk total bullshit. This post is not going anywhere. This is teenage angst from a someone in the quarterlife near-death experience (or depression, to use an economic term!). This is a testament that I cannot keep a professional blog, but I can choose not to post my ramblings on sites where most people would see how fucked up I am.

This is the last of the Bi Cycle series. A third in the series of two wheels is fucked up, right? This is fucked up. Like everything else. I can't think of anything. But you. I have to fuck something and create! Soon!

Spectacles [i]

Everything might be a work of fiction. This is fiction.

After seeing the wonders of the urban jungle through your lenses that I did not even bother to borrow (yet, yes, I suppose I have seen things through them! and, no, wouldn't bother borrowing them anytime soon!), I think I am seeing things I have seen before in another light that have lit my chromatic vision just like before, i.e. in the same way in the not-so-distant past. How distant is distant anyway? And, as you have said (or I thought I heard you say! As you can see, you can never trust me with all these delusions and hallucinations and interventions in a supposedly readable and comprehensible and sensible telling of stuff that nobody, except my self, needs, for the sake of venting out excess sanity or supersanity or insanity, depending on how you look at it!), how awkward is awkward?

Before thinking what the point of this blabber is, please do consider a lot of things. Had you found this space and you think and you sincerely believe that this is about you, please remain as you are. Or, better yet, tell me what you think. For now, all I know is we are looking at the same direction though we may have different lenses. Whether that means anything does not matter. What matters most, at least for me, is: we remain as we are. Doing what we think makes us feel like conquerors of the seas of possibilites. I thought I'd like to think about it. But I'd rather not. In this particular instance, thinking might ruin everything. What am I saying? Nothing. Let us leave this and live as blurry as our vision of what things are ought to be.

Emphasis: Everything might be a work of fiction. This is fiction.

Bi Cycle [ii]

Everything might be a work of fiction. This is fiction.

It has been more than two weeks. The outer glow of your skin ceased to exist before my mind's eyes. I have seen other outer glows of skins and it seems like all outer glows of skins are all different yet the same. They are all flames, with differing colours, to moths, who are supposed to be hypnotized into submission towards the darkness of destruction that lies within the light. I am not one of those moths. At least, not anymore. Or so I thought. There are other yous. And these yous failed to do what you have done. I believe I began being more careful after getting high and dry with the noun that the first you in this paragraph refers to. You may be a he, a she, or an it, but I do not think that would matter much, since you may be all or none of the above as well. Or even beyond or within any label.

***

Where is the bi cycle, you ask? Well, what do you care? I have driven in to many places, despite my weak control of its mandala wheels--which are not really helping in the magick of concentration into the metaphysical and transcendental or whatever is beyond the material. Also, my tendency to stop whenever I writhe in it brings me closer and more down to earth--at rare moments, so close that my face comes into contact with the face of the earth. An instance, you ask? Well here goes something recent: I have told you the last time that "The road it shall traverse is the universe populated with lovers and/or fetishists who are potential victims of accidents I might launch in the name of learning. Of god. Of science. Of art. Of you." Well, it just so happens that I apparently became one of the lovers that became the victim of my own reckless driving. Of the bi cycle.

I stopped into this you, that I thought would be my you away from you. This new you seems better--I wanted to tell the world how your bosom offers the best comfort with all the freedom and the sunlight and the wisdom and the moonlight and the understanding and the starlight and the discipline and the anarchy that I can handle with responsibility. All these within the this new you's concrete dress, in contrast with the old you's naked satin tunic that comes with a mask that smiles like sunshine, hiding the horror behind--which is something I find attractive and sweet. But then, this new you is more repulsive and more pretentious. I have almost committed my self to this new version of you, only to find out that it is a worse version of you--though you do not intend it to be. I then decided to writhe in my bi cycle again and leave as I have left most things I leave--with respect and criticism.

***

I opt to drive elsewhere. Somewhere without you or your presence, though that would be impossible, so, I would then go in a place where I could write and unwrite, draw and undraw, erase and unerase, sing and unsing, and, create and uncreate you and things about you. I will find more yous, with or without anybody's consent. Having no other choice, this is how I "chose" to live, for now, while rainbow highways and ultraviolet expressways are under construction and while the mandala wheels of my bi cycle changes in a kaleidoscopic manner as it destroys the streets of spectral colours (and anti-colours and anything in between) it leaves behind.