Sandatahang Banga [Study]

[UNDER THE STORM poetry anthology information here. If you care for my well-being, you will click this link, "like" my entry and share this fuck of an entry with your friends and you'd cry rainbows with them after the quasi-LSD experience. 100 araw ng komiks trivia here. Oh, this is this month's 22nd blog entry, and I posted twice this day! I've surpassed the June record! Anyway!]

It has been a while since I have released a komix title. I think, it shall be the time for releasing another illustrated narrative. But this time, I would have to produce less copies, say, 10 or 15, and just wait for pre-orders to print more. I am still as jobless as I was way back when the very essential (eh?) Panayam Kay Io and the Aborted Ones (with a new cover!) were released. Twas half a year ago, if memory serves me right. Anyway, here is the study of the cover. I hope whoever this shameless plug reaches would be interested with--

There. Rough translation of the title may go like, "Armed Forces of the Potheads, or What the fuck are with those pots plaguing the UPLB campus?!" I just hope that this is the last komix I'd do for Maria Makiling and her constituents. Her spell's too strong. No matter how bitter I feel towards Elbi, here I am cramming this komix. Target release date: late August. Still looking for UPLB-based collaborators, ie, photographers and/or graphic artists. I am, however, determined to finish this title whether there would responses to this call for help.

If you are interested (whether sa collaboration or sa reservation ng copy), please drop an email, a pm, an iM or a comment at the soonest time possible. I'd have to schedule things this weekend. And, no, I can offer no compensation besides that space on the cover for your name. Bonuses include an intimate collegial friendship out of a semi-artistic endeavor. "LOL." That is all. Thank you.

Spectacleshards [iii]: Pirsig's

[UNDER THE STORM poetry anthology information here. If you care for my well-being, you will click this link, "like" my entry and share this fuck of an entry with your friends and you'd cry rainbows with them after the quasi-LSD experience.]

Resumed reading Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig. Am half-way through. Attention span's getting worse. And productivity level's at par with it. Sharing this food for thought. God, these are chunks of paragraphs. I hate this book for having too much quotable portions. Or, maybe, I am easily amused.

Mountains like these and travelers in the mountains and events that happen to them here are found not only in Zen literature but in the tales of every major religion. The allegory of a physical mountain for the spiritual one that stands between each soul and its goal is an easy and natural one to make. Like those in the valley behind us, most people stand in sight of the spiritual mountains all their lives and never enter them, being content to listen to others who have been there and thus avoid the hardships. Some travel into the mountains accompanied by experienced guides who know the best and least dangerous routes by which they arrive at their destination. Still others, inexperienced and untrusting, attempt to make their own routes. Few of these are successful, but occasionally some, by sheer will and luck and grace, do make it. Once there they become more aware than any of the others that there's no single or fixed number of routes. There are as many routes as there are individual souls.

***

A memory came back of his own dismissal from the University for having too much to say. For every fact there is an infinity of hypotheses. The more you look the more you see.

***

Phædrus thought withholding grades was good, according to his notes, but he didn't give it scientific value. In a true experiment you keep constant every cause you can think of except one, and then see what the effects are of varying that one cause. In the classroom you can never do this. Student knowledge, student attitude, teacher attitude, all change from all kinds of causes which are uncontrollable and mostly unknowable. Also, the observer in this case is himself one of the causes and can never judge his effects without altering his effects. So he didn't attempt to draw any hard conclusions from all this, he just went ahead and did what he liked.

The movement from this to his enquiry into Quality took place because of a sinister aspect of grading that the withholding of grades exposed. Grades really cover up failure to teach. A bad instructor can go through an entire quarter leaving absolutely nothing memorable in the minds of his class, curve out the scores on an irrelevant test, and leave the impression that some have learned and some have not. But if the grades are removed the class is forced to wonder each day what it's really learning. The questions, What's being taught? What's the goal? How do the lectures and assignments accomplish the goal? become ominous. The removal of grades exposes a huge and frightening vacuum.

What was Phædrus trying to do, anyway? This question became more and more imperative as he went on. The answer that had seemed right when he started now made less and less sense. He had wanted his students to become creative by deciding for themselves what was good writing instead of asking him all the time. The real purpose of withholding the grades was to force them to look within themselves, the only place they would ever get a really right answer.

But now this made no sense. If they already knew what was good and bad, there was no reason for them to take the course in the first place. The fact that they were there as students presumed they did not know what was good or bad. That was his job as instructor...to tell them what was good or bad. The whole idea of individual creativity and expression in the classroom was really basically opposed to the whole idea of the University.

For many of the students, this withholding created a Kafkaesque situation in which they saw they were to be punished for failure to do something but no one would tell them what they were supposed to do. They looked within themselves and saw nothing and looked at Phædrus and saw nothing and just sat there helpless, not knowing what to do. The vacuum was deadly.

One girl suffered a nervous breakdown. You cannot withhold grades and sit there and create a goalless vacuum. You have to provide some goal for a class to work toward that will fill that vacuum. This he wasn't doing.

He couldn't. He could think of no possible way he could tell them what they should work toward without falling back into the trap of authoritarian, didactic teaching. But how can you put on the blackboard the mysterious internal goal of each creative person?

Grades suck. They make me feel conformist to some extent. Anyway, grade-conscious people suck more. Grade conscious people bragging about their grades suck best. Though most all knowing people I know, somehow, have something to brag about. What am I saying? What is Pirsig saying? A pleasant morning. I hope I've made your mornings better. Oh, no, I didn't type all of these. Copypasted them from the ebook version I have just downloaded. Pagination of the e-copy and the print material differs, by the way.

Storm Advisory (DD/MM/YYYY)

[UNDER THE STORM poetry anthology information here. If you care for my well-being, you will click this link, "like" my entry and share this fuck of an entry with your friends and you'd cry rainbows with them after the quasi-LSD experience.] This is an attempt at prose poetry. Just like all posts in this site, feel free to lambaste this piece in a constructive manner, drop an email or post a comment.

Storm Advisory (DD/MM/YYYY)

Classes will be suspended, once tempests of outrage flood the streets with protests against laboratory classes that require ivory gowns in exclusive rooms atop marble towers of pearls and gems and promises of knowledge.

What follows class suspension will be more storms waged among those who want to hold classes despite all the turmoil and those who want to suspend classes to further study outside state-sponsored classrooms and those who want to completely abolish classes and those in between the aforementioned categories.

Classes will be suspended a couple of times and it may or may not resume anytime soon but something's quite certain and anyone may disagree with the claim that:

every so after, with enough and potent civil disturbances--which are natural catastrophes or staged occurrences, depending on the lenses you choose to use--classes may be suspended from time to time depending on--as it has been said a number of times--the force, which is equal to mass multiplied by acceleration.

UNDER THE STORM under this storm

[Shameless plug within a shameless plug: If you care for my well-being, you will click this link, "like" my entry and share this fuck of an entry with your friends and you'd cry rainbows with them after the quasi-LSD experience.]

It has been a while since I let sunshine touch my skin, yet it didn't really took its time in doing so. Maybe because it cannot. The dark clouds protected me from it. Whatever the fuck that means. Ugh. I am having bad days. Good thing there are things that still, somehow, cheer me up. You're wrong, I am not slashing my wrists. Not just yet. Not again. I kid. I don't know how to feel about the rain, that matured into a storm called Juaning. I went out, against her, and she hassled me like fuck but I think I longed for her, so, the moments of hassles and drizzles and splashes felt fine. My waterproof armor--bag, boots and all that I wore and wielded to defend myself from her--didn't let me down as I went against her attacks. Anyway--

Here is the list. Got the link to Joel Toledo's facebook note from Tin Lao's post. Mark the 2nd of September. Copypasting myself first, though Picasso might rise up from the grave and kill me for it: "Gusto ko lang irehistrong kakabasa ko lang ng email at pwede ho pala magpre-order ng "UNDER THE STORM: An Anthology of Contemporary Philippine Poetry," na ilo-launch sa MOV International Film, Music, & Literature Festival sa September 2." So, there, if you want to reserve or pre-order a copy, do drop me an email. Anthology is edited by Joel Toledo and Khavn De La Cruz. To convince you why you might want a copy, here is the list, for your perusal:

UNDER THE STORM: An Anthology of Contemporary Philippine Poetry

1 Anne Carly Abad: December 18, 2008

2 Diego José Abad: The Unfaithful Men

3 Gémino H. Abad: THAT SPACE OF WRITING

4 Anina G. Abola: In Place Of Emotion

5 Jose Marte Abueg: I, Pontius

6 Ericson Acosta: Ika-anim na Sundang: GABUD [Sixth Knife: WHETSTONE]

7 Arbeen Acuña: eraserase002

8 Jim Pascual Agustin: Sea Fireflies Of Mindoro

9 Arnold O. Aldaba: Fruit Of Knowledge

10 Kislap Alitaptap: Wala Na Sa Quiapo Ang Nazareno [The Nazarene is not in Quiapo]

11 Rio Alma: Seaman

12 Jovsky Almero: Train Dodge

13 Tofi Alonte: SHOES

14 Donato Mejia Alvarez: Apat Na Larawan Mula Sa Tagaytay Ridge [A Short Quartet From Tagaytay Ridge]

15 Panch Alvarez: Pointing According To Heraldina

16 Angelo B. Ancheta: BIR-IT, JAN-NY!

17 Mark Angeles: F/LIGHT

18 Rebecca T. Añonuevo: Anumang Leksiyon [Whatever Abides]

19 Roberto T. Añonuevo: Dalawampung Minuto [Twenty Minutes]

20 Teo T. Antonio: Sa Dulo Ng Malay [At the Edge of Waking]

21 Lystra Aranal: Hands Down

22 Mesándel Virtusio Arguelles: EROS

23 Cesar Ruiz Aquino: THREE VARIATIONS

24 A.M. Azada: The Lion

25 Mads Bajarias: Entropy & The Shrike

26 Desiree L. Balota: manoy

27 Romulo P. Baquiran, Jr.: LABERINTO [LABYRINTHE]

28 Joi Barrios: Mga Tala Sa Isang Pagpatay [Notes On A Political Execution]

29 Melissa Villa-Real Basmayor: Futura

30 Ariel Dim. Borlongan: EKSENA SA SUSUNOD NA SIGLO [SCENARIO FOR THE NEXT CENTURY]

31 Dave Buenviaje: Because Pandesal is never the same in another country

32 Regine Cabato: Touch Me Not

33 Jose Wendell P. Capili: Carnivalesque

34 Ronan B. Capinding: Pagdidilig

35 Ronaldo Carcamo: Ha-ha-ha

36 F. Jordan Carnice: Stones

37 Lito Casaje: Tsunami Blues

38 Ian Rosales Casocot: The Smallness Of The Everyday

39 Marella Castro: Hinatak Sa Kahulugan [A Catch Of The Infinite Pull]

40 Jose Jason L. Chancoco: Barber Shop Brainstorming

41 Ayrie Ching: Learning Curve

42 Frank Cimatu: THE YOYO ROUTINE

43 Mikael de Lara Co: Kundiman

44 Kristian Sendon Cordero: Stabat Mater

45 Michael M. Coroza: MAGNANAKAW [THIEF]

46 Keith Cortez: The Current

47 Lope Cui, Jr.: Multiple Choice

48 Dakila Cutab: P’wera Contra

49 Jose Y. Dalisay, Jr.: Bound For Saudi

50 Ramon Damasing: On the Feminine

51 Carlomar Daoana: Brutalism

52 Mes De Guzman: Ang Katiwala

53 Ainne Frances dela Cruz: Speed

54 Christa I. De La Cruz: After Impeng Negro

55 Khavn De La Cruz: ang dalawa ang puso [the twin hearts]

56 Noelle Leslie dela Cruz: Absence Muse

57 Nikki De Los Santos: aporia

58 Karl R. De Mesa: Preparations For History

59 Iñigo de Paula: Paramdam

60 Ricardo M. de Ungria: The Ambivalence Of Staying A Tree

61 Lourd Ernest H. De Veyra: SUPREMACY OF THE TEXT

62 Noel del Prado: Rebolusyon [Revolution]

63 A Despi: Social Blowtorching Transcends Scab Worship

64 Glenn Diaz: Definition Of respite

65 Lav Diaz: IN MEMORIAM

66 Alain Russ Dimzon: Tinkling

67 Jan Brandon Dollente: The What

68 Jacob Walse-Dominguez: folding boxes

69 Simeon Dumdum Jr.: The Last Rain of Summer

70 Marj Evasco: In Baclayon, Reading Levertov's For those whom the Gods love less

71 Israfel Fagela: Siberia

72 Bendix M. Fernandez: english lyrics to a japanese seduction

73 Boni Fojas-Almirante: Erotica

74 Luis H. Francia: SMOOCH KING

75 Marc Escalona Gaba: Blinds

76 Eric Gamalinda: Hydrazine

77 J. Neil Garcia: Coda

78 German Villanueva Gervacio: Procorpio’s Night

79 Lolito Go: What Else

80 Eva B. Gubat: Blind Date

81 Ramil Digal Gulle: bullet.X.press

82 Asterio Enrico Gutierrez: Death Poem Exercise 64

83 Luisa A. Igloria: What I Don’t Tell My Children about My Hometown

84 Neal Imperial: Tandang Sora

85 Marne L. Kilates: Morion

86 Phillip Yerro Kimpo: How The Americans Liberated Northern Luzon, 1945

87 Jeanilyn Kwan: The Revolution Will Be Printed, Not Televised

88 Jose F. Lacaba: Tagubilin At Habilin [Will and Testament]

89 Mookie Katigbak-Lacuesta: Tampuhan

90 Marra PL. Lanot: Ina [Mother]

91 Christine V. Lao: What Ol’ Injun told the carnies

92 Gian Lao: Here, at your grave

93 Elaine Lazaro: O

94 John Francis C. Losaria: NPA mula sa Tatlong Daang Salita at Dalawang Pulgadang Pagitan [from Three Hundred Words and Two Inches in Between]

95 Bienvenido Lumbera: Kartolinang Ibon [Craft-Paper Bird]

96 Soleil Erika Manzano: Ganoon dumating ang balita— [How the news broke—]

97 Carlo Angelo V. Marcelo: A Better Good Morning

98 Edgar B. Maranan: The life and times of a seditious poet

99 Luchie Maranan: Estranged

100 Pia Montalban: Saleslady

101 V.E. Carmelo D. Nadera Jr.: BALIMBING

102 Joanna Nicolas-Na: On The Way To Market

103 Homer B. Novicio: Dark Birds In Winged Chapel

104 Emil Os: hyperlink

105 Voltaire Q. Oyzon: Mag-aabroad inin akon mga buhok [My hairs will travel

abroad]

106 Doms Pagliawan: Philippine Eagle

107 Don Pagusara: Alibangbang Sa Ulan [Butterflies In The Rain]

108 R. Torres Pandan: Ars Poetica, As Actually Practiced

109 Ned Parfan: Disturbances

110 Allan Justo Pastrana: The Soul Of The Town

111 Carlos M. Piocos III: Prehistoria

112 Axel Pinpin: Nang Salakayin Mo Ang Aking Pananahimik [The Night You Assaulted My Deep Silence]

113 Zosimo Quibilan, Jr.: Vers.

114 Jun Cruz Reyes: Bunso [Lastborn]

115 Fidel Rillo: Sa Ganang Akin Po Naman Ay Ito Lamang Ang Ipinamamanhik [Thus Do I Humbly Express Myself]

116 Virgilio A. Rivas: Eternal Juju Recurrence

117 Deedle Rodriguez-Tomlinson: Euston Road on an Autumn Afternoon

118 Patrick Rosal: Despedida Ardiente

119 Darylle Rubino: Today After Time Immemorial

120 Roger B. Rueda: Carabaohood

121 Jose Leonardo A. Sabilano: SpaMusic

122 Joseph de Luna Saguid: CORRESPONDENT

123 Joel Pablo Salud: Meandering

124 Edgar Calabia Samar: Vocabulario

125 Rafael Antonio C. San Diego: Poem About Nothing

126 Benilda Santos: Púgot [Beheaded]

127 Oscar Tantoco Serquiña, Jr.: Massacre

128 Tanya Sevilla-Simon: Balikbayan Box

129 Danny Castillones Sillada: Yang Pagtagád Kang Alyana [Waiting For Alyana]

130 Bebang W. Siy: Ang Bisita [The Visitor]

131 Bert Sulat Jr.: I Love Poetry

132 Ramón C Sunico: HOW TO ENJOY A CONCERT: Mula sa Concert Notes ng Francisco Santiago Hall ng PCI Bank [From the concert notes of Francisco Santiago Hall of PCI Bank (now defunct)]

133 Christian Tablazon: BLUEPRINT

134 Alyza Taguilaso: Leviathan

135 J.I.E. Teodoro: Banal na Buntis [Pregnant, Holy]

136 Andrea B. Teran: Weight without gravity

137 Enrico C. Torralba: PARA SA FOUNTAIN SA HARAP NG POST-OFFICE BUILDING [FOR THE FOUNTAIN IN FRONT OF THE POST OFFICE]

138 Ricky Torre: An Appointment, And Variation On Federico Alcuaz (or Monologue as Portraiture)

139 Denver Ejem Torres: where my Barbie was safe, lest, if it came out in the open

140 Charles Bonoan Tuvilla: Sa Panahon [On Seasons]

141 Roberto Ofanda Umil: Ang Tiwalag [The Defected]

142 RM Urquico: The Blues

143 Czeriza Shennille Valencia: Every dawn you dig your own grave

144 Eric Tinsay Valles: Independence Day In Hong Lim Park

145 Joel Vega: NIMBUS

146 Eliza Victoria: Crime Scenes

147 Santiago Villafania: Rekindled

148 Michael Carlo C. Villas: Vestibular

149 Arlene J Yandug: I think therefore I Ant

150 Alfred A. Yuson: The Ten Most Memorable Moments with D. Thus Far, & Why I Can’t Let Her Go

Book Design: Piya Constantino

Cover Art: W Don Flores

"Reported Incidents, 9/27/09 to 9/29/09 2"

Acrylic on canvas

24 in. x 32 in.

2009

Translations by: Piya Constantino, Eduardo Dayao, Mikael de Lara Co, Paula Maria Diaz, U Z. Eliserio, Ryan Fuentes, Luisa A. Igloria, Cecilia B. Imperial, Marne L. Kilates, John B. Labella, Aila Lenard, Paolo Manalo, Mark Pangilinan, Chuckberry Pascual, Sue Prado, Nonilon V. Queano , D.M. Reyes, Sandra Nicole Roldan, Amoz Ezra Salazar, Ronald V. Verzo II, and Xenia-Chloe Villanueva

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

----------------

The 4th .MOV International Flim, Music, and Literature Festival

September 1-6, 2011

Book Launch: 2 September 2011

Ayala Museum, Makati City

6 PM

Ugh, I don't know, but, this cover is, well, overwhelming. :L [source]

See you on the 2nd of September. I hope there'd be a tempest of some sort. A tempest that wouldn't hinder anyone to come. A figurative tempest of whatever you want that tempest to be. Andami kong shit.

Eliphas With a Thousand Young

I am not quite sure how to categorize this. Shall I put it under the "Pandora's Boxes," since there is a reminiscence of the past (or one of the futures?!) going on? Or, under the "Nausea" series, since, well, I don't have to explain, right? Those are tongues and mouths and teeth and appendages right there. Or, under the "Spectacles," since-- or under a new category, say, "Tentacles," with another unclassified illustration--King Inang Yellow? Ugh. Nevermind. Just, let me share with you, Eliphas with A Thousand Young. Obviously a reference to Shub-Niggurath.

"Iä! Iä! Shub-Niggurath! The Black Goat [of the Woods] with a Thousand Young!"

Above are different artistic renditions of Eliphas. Images by (Clockwise) Tilde Acuna, Regine Genato, AK Castillo Ruffa Solano, Aye Sarapuddin, Bangs Colona. (Originally posted here.)

***

P.S. I really have to cleanse myself and wash the colours away like blood from a butcher's hands. Colours that left spots on a clean cloth, ie, my er... shit, I am out of words. If you haven't voted for that PETA (Philippine Educational Theater Association) contest yet, please check out all the entries and take your pick. This is my entry. "Like" it to vote for it. And if you like it enough, please tell your friends about it. Here are two blog posts about it: (link!) and (link!). Thanks.

Pandora's Boxes [vii]: Prexies

[Click the images to zoom in.]

Text heavy. I know. And in Filipino. Reminds me of this:

The Yellow King shall soon be among the banes of humanity.

O, he already is. See his picture here.

On Contests That Require Er.. Something Like "Fun"

Campaigning for one's self

Er... I find selling one's work (or, in this particular instance, telling others to appreciate or to check out MY work and vote for it, especially to strangers that most probably wouldn't give a fuck about it) kinda awkward, to say the least. Though it is perfectly normal to shamelessly plug and be proud of your work. Actually, I am still unsure how to articulate what my point is while telling anyone who can read this that I have (but I think I had! When it comes to academic requirements! Which should not in any way be based on popularity, ie 'likes'!) nothing against popularity contests. Or, maybe, since I joined one, despite the repulsion I have, or I thought I have, against 'like' contests, I, to some extent, claim to tolerate that which I despise. And yes, those are a lot of commas.

All these sickening feeling of self-promotion, guilt of vanity and self-indulgence and shit, despite the fact that I've ran for office twice--once in the college level and another in the university level--and er... won, with the help of the gods. And my surname that starts with the first letter of the alphabet which means I had a higher chance of winning as the voter shall see my name on the top portion of the list of candidates, so, they shall write my name on his or her ballot though he or she does not know who I really am and shit. The fuck.

I shall learn how to 'economize' words. And how to stick to what I am saying. Moving on: Maybe I just find the cyberspace a repository of egos, of selves, of I's. And I am one of those egos, and selves, and I's whoring for attention. And I hate that fact. And I hate it that I do not know whether or not to change that fact, had the fact I thought a fact were proven true.

Anyway. There is an entry that already bagged more or less 500 likes. Which is okay. It looks "icon" enough for me. But there are others that, well, you decide for yourselves. And, yes, this is about the PETA contest. I've written a bit about it [here]. 'Likes' would just comprise 30% of the score. That is what I keep in mind. But with the situation, I am not aspiring for anything. 500 likes?! Holy fuck. I'll do what I can, though. For the last time, I will whore attention to the highest level possible tomorrow. And I don't think I'll join contests that require public er... 'like'-ing anytime soon. I just, really, don't get why some-- *some text missing*

Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow I spam. I repeat: I'd go on a roll-call tomorrow. Shall tag most, if not all, of my facebook contacts. And campaign for this motherfucker of a colourful entry that shall make you shit rainbows as if you are a robot unicorn on LSD.

Competing and being seen doing so

There is this Fully Bookd contest, where you have to submit a form, I think, and once you are picked as one of the winners, you go on a book grabbing galore. I hesitated, despite the reality that there are slim chances of being handpicked via raffle. Actually, I am determined not to join anymore.

I wouldn't want to be seen and photographed running and competing and craving and stumbling and doing silly things for books. I don't want to be caught in action. I don't want such moments to be immortalized in pictures. I'd rather do such "fun" things--had the gods succeeded in hynotizing me to be in the mood for such--in secret.

That is all the rant and unsolicited musings for this utterly unproductive day. Watched an animated film, though. At, babawi akong puyat dahil naka-eight-hour sleep na ko nang two days straight! Mortal sin!

Spectacleshards [ii]: Graphic's

[SPAM! Before anything else, please do take time in voting for my entry in the Philippine Educational Theater Association's contest in re/creating a Shakespearean icon that is to be used as PETA's, well, 44th anniversary icon, if you like my design and it wouldn't be too much of a hassle. If you don't, then vote for other designs. If you don't, then, don't. Here's my write-up re: Liking. Here, for the nth time, is the link to my entry. Shameless plugging at its finest. I shall roll-call most, if not all, of my facebook contacts via tagged comments this weekend. Hope no one kills me for spamming, though I spam in a less irritating manner (I suppose) compared with those who tag you in photos of products they sell. At least twenty times.]

These are snippets taken out of context from the November 2, 2009 issue of Philippines Graphic (Vol. 20 No. 22). Unlike the first SpectacleShards that clipped a scene told through successive paragraphs, this entry quotes from all over the piece Pili Nut by Ma. Romina Gonzalez. Like the first SpectacleShards, this is encoded with all my might, since the Graphic's web archive only contains literary pieces published in 2010 & 2011.

I tried to take a good look at those eyes the first time we met at an exhibit of Nabokov's memorabilia and manuscripts at the New York Public Library. You wore dark glasses indoors, making me wonder whether you were famous or disgraced. We were appreciating the white heart-shaped sunglasses worn by Lolita in the Stanley Kubrick film version.

***

You ignored me and left the room as fast as you could leaving me to wallow in Nabokov's pet peeves. He seemed to hate everything except his work. I felt exactly the same, only I had no work.

***

"You remember the first time we met?" I ask as we walk to Strawberry Fields. You let your shades slide down your nose, revealing dark, brown eyes, a curious mix of amber and streaked onyx, depending on how light struck them. I was instantly drawn to your eyes, I don't tell you.

***

I accepted the folders like the diploma from the university I attended there a month before. An aunt was at the ceremony. I slipped one of the folders out of its rubber bind, my mouth gone dry from excitement. You watched me the whole time. No, you weren't strange; not at all, I thought, as I look through carefully cut-out sections of New York Times, the National Enquirer, the Real Estate Gazette and old Consumer Reports. I was overwhelmed with delight. I understood you completely.

***

We reached the Strawberry Fields marker, dedicated to the Beatle who was killed in his adopted city by a fan who claimed it was God's will. He was your favorite of the four. I bring out a newspaper rose I had made for the occasion and lay it on the Imagine mosaic which is completely outlined by a daisy chain.

***

"Pi-li brit-tle. Don't you just hate it when you get something that doesn't live up to its promise? The first few bites were great and perfect but now that I've been hooked and I want more, out comes this huge honey, nutty planet of a 'brittle,' like a cruel, cruel surprise."

I hope I didn't commit any typographical errors. Anyway, connect the dots of this fiction with the fiction that pretends to be fiction, if you may and if it pleases you so much it makes you happy. I thought of murmuring between the passages through parenthetical remarks to-- Well, I decided against it. So, there.

On Online Contests and 'Like'-ing. And cramming.

It is recommended that you have a facebook account before continuing. And, yes, there are people who opted not to have a facebook account yet happens to surf the net. And, yes, I shall stop stalling and move on and tell my point right away despite the last 24 hours being a tiring and draining and frustrating day that I want to write about but cannot. Anyway!

I felt the urge to write something about 'like'-ing and contests but let me blabber about cramming first. I have joined Phillipine Educational Theatre Association (PETA) 's contest, HU ART DAW?, where you have to submit an icon about-- wait, I shall *copypaste*:

Redesign Shakespeare and Win Cash and Goodies from PETA

For its 44th Theater Season, PETA produces modern, educational and entertaining plays and events that reintroduces Shakespeare and his works.

Help us demystify the Bard--make him less fearsome, easier to understand, and lovable for all. Create a modern icon that will capture PETA’s hip, fun, young and modern interpretation of Shakespeare that will appeal to the youth! PETA produces modern, educational and entertaining plays and events that reintroduces Shakespeare and his works.

MECHANICS

Contest participants must create a hip, fun, young and modern Shakespeare icon for Philippine Educational Theater Association’s (PETA), 44th Theater Season. Entries can be hand drawn or digitally made (e.g. Adobe Photoshop). The image must be in .jpg format. File size should not exceed 500kb. Originality is encouraged.

Contestants must pass their electronic artwork via email, to petatheater@gmail.com together with the following information:Entrant’s Full Name, Age, Contact Number

All artworks received during the contest duration will be uploaded on July 16 via PETA’s Facebook Page: Peta Tapets

Contest Duration

Contest starts on June 10, 2011.Deadline for submission of entries is on July 15, 2011 at 6:00 P.M. Deadline of voting (via Facebook likes) is on July 30, 2011 at 6:00 P.M. Winners will be announced on August 2, 2011.

Criteria for Judging

30% Popularity measured via Facebook Likes

30% Creativity

40% Originality & Adherance to PETA’s hip, fun, young and modern theme

The winning artwork will become the official icon of PETA’s Shakespeare Season and shall appear in PETA’s posters,flyers, merchandise and other collaterals. The winner will be given: Php 5,000 plus (20) complimentary tickets for PETA’s William and Haring Lear as well as complimentary playbills for both productions.

Winners will be notified by PETA via phone call and public announcement on PETA’s Facebook Page.

Download the full poster here.

Date and Time:

June 10, 2011 - 12:00am - July 15, 2011 - 6:00pm

There. So, I've decided to join since I have nothing better to do w my life. Crammed my way to the contest since I was as jobless then as I am now. Thought that this contest shall pressure me to try colours for a change. And, so, I worked on it on-- forgot the exact date but that was, I think, some fuck of a date near the 15th of June. Because I thought the contest ends June 15, 2011 - 6:00pm, but as you can see, it did not. So, I submitted an artwork before the clock strikes 18:00 on June 15. Unfortunately, it was the crammed version which is now posted as an entry into the contest though I have submitted this version before June 15 ended:

That was, still, a month before the deadline. I don't know where this polished version posted herein ended up. Suspects the SPAM folder. Now, on with the Sunday morning preaching regarding contests and 'like'-ing part. I have never been too happy with people sending me personal messages or posting on my wall or tagging me on their posts and asking for a 'like' or vote for their entry (or their friend's friend's entry or their brother's uncle's mother's classmate's half-brother's entry) into a contest. I have never been too happy with such as I am not too happy with notifications that do not concern me (which is why I am happy with Google+'s mute option, anyway--). A comment on a tag will do, since it does not use my personal wall for advertisement. And, there are other special cases where tagging into something that needs a 'like' is okay. These preferences are, of course, personal. I sometimes fail to have the n/ethics or n/etiquette in certain occasions since I am not really that familiar with social norms--

social norms concerning online contests--with number of likes as grounds whether you are to dance your victory dance whatever the fuck victory dance is--in particular. Well, I think PETA's contest is fair enough since the number of 'likes' only constitute 30% of the overall score. I am just hoping for the other criteria since, as the album shows, some entries do not seem like 'icons' for me. Or, it is, most probably, just me. Just thinking out loud. Again. Apologies for unsolicited er... well, lahat ng ito naman e unsolicited! AND! FINALLY! After all the cluttered sentences, all I am trying to say is you have your options in your life as regards this contest or any other contests:

1) You may 'like' me my entry if a) you are a good friend who shall have a chance of having a one of the twenty complimentary tickets if and only if I win unless you have other friends who may reward you with a ticket that may not make not much of a difference depending on the life you chose to live; b) you really liked my entry; or c) both a & b;

2) You may ignore all of these shit since I plan to tag only a few friends who I assume wouldn't bother reading. If this entry lands on your feed and you felt pissed, you may get on with your life and blame me for having you read this fuck of a blog entry that reeks of a) spontaneities of the urge to write right after a tiring day (I have actually written this at around 3am after a day of sickening travel that came with a diarrhea of cash that left me empty inside, but the internet's just being a motherfucker, just like what it is being now); and b) inconsistencies caused by sleep, or lack, or absence thereof,; (Pero, kung ayaw ninyo, kindly tell me na i-untag kayo, ha. Naks, pa-concerned. Or, pwedeng i-untag ninyo ang inyong self?)

3) You may like my entry but you may not like it enough to click the 'like' button; Or you will like my entry that much that you will even share this post because of your intense liking of my entry;

4) You may 'like' other entries you like but you just have to click on the album and exert more effort since I wouldn't post links to other entries here; and

5) You-- No, the last one is not about you: I would not 'like' my own entry like some desperate people who 'like' their own posts as if approving one's own musings with a narcissistic satisfactory smug that you want to knock off a couple of times. Never. I am just posting this to inform you that I have an entry and you may 'like' it if you, well, like it.

That is all. Thank you. Thaks din sa PETA for the contest na nagdulot ng drive magkulay.

King Inang Yellow x SONAnaman Hainakus

Yes.

I know.

Lame puns, right?

by the way,

This blog is

glad you're

here.

King Inang Yellow!?

Boss mo kami? O'Rlyeh?

Tuwid na Daan?

Shitload of stories

overflowing; Oozing of

nausea again.

Spectacleshards [i]: Calvino's

This is an excerpt from Italo Calvino's The Nonexistent Knight. No, this is not "copypasted" because I failed to find a .pdf file of the novel. I encoded this with all my er... heartlessness and fingers for tentacles, so, please allow me to beg for your forgiveness had there been typographical errors. Or, fuck off. Kidding.

This is, needless to say, fiction, unlike fiction that claims to be fiction. A lie with deceit as facade. A nightmare within a nightmare. Read on and get whatever you can out of the shards of Calvino's wazakation. Whatever the fuck that fuck means.

This uncertainty was nearly fatal. The Moor was pressing closer and closer when a great row went up nearby. A Moorish officer in the press of the battle suddenly let out a cry.

At this shout Raimbaut's adversary raised his visor as if asking for a truce, and called out in reply.

"What's he say?" Raimbaut asked the interpreter.

"He said, 'Yes, Argalif Isohar, I'll bring you your spectacles at once!"

"So it's not him!"

"I am Argalif Isohar's spectacle bearer," exclaimed his adversary. "Spectacles are instruments as yet unknown to you Christians, and are lenses to correct the sight. Isohar, being short-sighted, is forced to wear them in battle, but as they're glass a pair gets broken every fight. I'm attached to him to supply new ones. May I therefore request that we interrupt our duel, otherwise the Argalif, weak of sight as is, will get the worst of it."

"Ah, the spectacle bearer!" roared Raimbaut, not knowing whether to gut him in a rage or rush at the real Isohar. But what merit would there be in fighting a blind adversary?

"Do let me go, sir," went on the optician, "as the plan of battle depends on his keeping in good health, and if he doesn't see he's lost!" and brandishing the spectacles he shouted back "Here Argalif, here are the glasses!"

"No!" said Raimbaut, and slashed at the bits of glasses shattering them.

At the same instant, as if the sound of the lenses in smithereens had been a sign in his end, Isohar was pierced by a Christian lance.

"Now," said the optician, "he doesn't need glasses to gaze at the houris in Paradise," and off he spurred.

I really hope to finish reading this novel--and eventually the entire trilogy--soon. I am done being isolated with Albert Camus's collection of six short stories Exile and the Kingdom, save for the last story. I am quite happy with the misery of "The Artist at Work" and quite depressed with the defeatist 'fate' of "The Silent Men." Would try to review the collection (naks, amfeeling!) soon.

Pandora's Boxes [vi]: Ironic

Pandora's Boxes shall be trips down the memory lane, but this time, I can't seem to remember why or how this er... drama of a drawing came to be. How unfortunate. Being nostalgic about something you cannot even remember in full colour television of your mind's eye that looks over the shoulder and into the past--no images at all even with a black and white betamax tape, and no sound at all even with a cassette tape. What the fuck. I don't think I can articulate this whatever it is well. Anyway, the .jpg file information says this was "modified" circa 2008 but was "created" circa 2009--making it harder to pin down the reason behind this slashwrist bullshit. Remembering something you cannot remember is torture. A bad way to start a bad day. Sounds of an orchestra chanting impending doom. Visions of another diaspora. Let us see. I only have to wait for a couple of hours.

CarcositeNewsNet: "Zalzaldy Could be Clean" says--

--the Yellow Kingdom

Mala-Canan is never closing its gates of tentacly salvation just yet to has-been Automatic Rifles of Manly Motherfuckery Region Governor Zalzaldy Amp's whoring of himself to commit an incestuous act by using his testicles testimony as dildo to buttsex his father and brother, and let both their heads roll as punishment for the gruesome (yet) Maguinoo Massacre.

The marionette of the King Inang Yellow's monarchy said Amp's pronouncements are "seemingly pretty buttfucked right now." He added, "You know, we can never can tell. Buttfucks can sometimes be used to assess the depth of fuckery."

"All we have to know is the truth. Remember that there are cults that achieve the truth through group sex that ends in orgasm, which then allows the cultists to see god," he elaborated and later furthered that buttsex could be an alternative to group sex. We didn't know why he was talking about sick, unthinkable things.

He also denied any deal or pimping or buttsex between King Inang Yellow, Arroyo and the Amps. "That sick thought of threesome among your masters, or anything better or worse, is just plain ridiculous," he said while flashing a finger that is dirtier than Ettaettaetta Rosalsales.

The marionette also mentioned that Zalzaldy, with the risk he is taking, needs "protection," thus the Fuck Responsibility Bill shall take the limelight again. He said, "Let us forget trivial things such as land reform and oil price hike. The FuckR Bill is needed of overpopulation, the root cause of poverty and all evil." We were not sure either if the Monarchy utilizes diversionary tactics again.

Protection? For Zalzaldy? That's fucked up, right? I mean why the heck would Zalzaldy need any protection? Is he a girl? With his crying on television as basis, there is a possibility. Pardon the unsolicited opinion. On with the news! Meanwhile, going further offtangent, Rosalsales, to make up for her castrated efforts against human rights violation, is happy meddling with petty things such as a mayor punching a sheriff and such. Demolitions are commonplace anyway. A public official hitting a constituent is an exotic delicacy for, well, publicity of CHR's 'achievements.'

--his Voyeur

Voyeur Bertho Valuenueva (BV) made it clear as the night skies from the deepest parts of R'lyeh that his client Zalzaldy shrugged off the prosecutors' persuasion of his buttfucking his brother and father. "Zalzaldy simply wants protection," BV said.

However, in a notarized open letter sent throughout the cosmos, even reaching Yuggoth as if lurking monstrosities care, Zalzaldy said he has the means to "nail and buttfuck the perpetrators to the ground like a common whore." We did not listen to BV anymore because he seems to speak in another sub-dialect of Olde Aklo pidginshit, so, we just asked another source.

Voyeur of the vicitms said that Zalzaldy's and BV's claims and fart knocking is preposterous and full of dogshit and catpoo, since "protection is only for those who may be impregnated, unless he fears that within his family lies sexually transmitted diseases such as herpes."

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

Nausea # 002

Nausea # 001

Pandora's Boxes [v]: Palpakran

It has almost been half a decade and this motherfucker and the mother that he fucks with are still inhaling oxygen and exhaling intestinal gases [news!]. Here is an overview of the motherfucker's profile. Pardon the illustration. Twas 2006 and I was young and-- Here's the profile!

OVERVIEW

Jovi Palpakran, Jr. (born Kahapon [trans. "Yesterday"]) is a Kingkongressman representing totally marginalized and oppressed and maltreated and violated and powerless and discriminated army personnel via the Bantay-Salakay ("Dog-Assault") party-list group in the 14th Kingkongress. He will be called to active duty in the Armed Forces of the President in the future, of course. Notice the "will be" in the main verb? Get used to it. You may go to the future because there is a recent discovery that time zones are places. I have included such information for the sake of verisimilitude. Keep in mind that Palpakran was born yesterday. Anyway--

OTHER THINGS

as a lieutenant, he will retire like other lieutenants. He will be a tired general, who will be a prominent figure in the campaign against communist insurgents, like you guise. He will be the commander of the Humanitarians in Wars, which is why vegetarians eat vegetables and he is humanitarian. He will fuck with marry a lot of wo/men while in service but he will only have three children with a veterinary dentist. Two of his children will be the dogs, Cloud Meatballs and Bullet Dancer.

Palpakran earned a pedigree in zoo business administration from the University of the Beastiary yesterday after his birth. He will later earn a master's pedigree in managing canines from the Philippine Jesus Universe College on friday, and a master's pedigree in national security guardianship and administration from the National Defensive in Denial College next thursday. This is the reason why he has the semblance of a dog and a chimp. There are rumours that he is a bastard son procreated by two drunk species who, after a horny sensation, felt the need to--

Before he retires, Palpakran will be assigned in Idoru (by William Gibson) and Ramble On (by Led Zeppelin) as dominatrix of the 204th Brigade. He will later be the pedophile harem master of the 8th Infant Storm Troopers Division with a lot of young soldier boys. To summarize all his future greatness in his future pursuit of annihilating the communist insurgency, I would like to dare say and predict that he will triumph. There will be no public clamour for social change anymore. Poverty will be solved. Unemployment will be no more. No one will ever die because of Palpakran's noble efforts. Viva fascism.

Human rights issues? The Butcher? What butcher? What human rights issues? Palpakran will never be accused by organizations of having a role in alleged extrajudicial abductions and killings of government critics during his would-be military service. He will personally deny (of course, he is innocent, motherfuckers!) any link to any such killings, and will be cleared of rights abuses by the military through an internal, informal investigation in which no records were kept.

A probe by the Commission on Human Rights (excluding Lefts, of course) will never find that there is a direct evidence indicating that Palpakran will be the mastermind, and there will never be circumstantial evidence linking some members of the military, to the killings. Double negatives are not said to be unconfusing. The Melo Report will never state that, "there is certainly evidence pointing the finger of suspicion at some elements and personalities in the armed forces, in particular General Palpakran, as responsible for an undetermined number of killings, by allowing, tolerating, and even encouraging the killings."

He will be awarded with the following medals so, there is no way that he will violate human rights: Distinguished Balls Massage Service Stars, Gold Croissant with Human Fluid Jam Medal, Gawad sa Kaunlaran Kahit Kapapanganak Lang Kahapon Medal (KAKALAKA or "Progress Despite Being Born Yesterday" Medal), Bronze Croissant with Human Fluid Jam Medals, Wounded Jesus of the Universe Personnel Medals, Militar Medals and Warcraft Campaign Medals.

Oh, this is bullshit by the way. Distorted data from here.

Spectacles [viii]: End

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

Let me drop the bomb. You are drifting away. More than spectacles, you need more sorts of sensory aid. Include another for hearing. And another perhaps for feeling. Feeling aid. Sounds gay. Like art. Art is gay. Gay is where everything started, as far as I can remember. That was the day when three events are set on the same day. GAY is a three-letter word. So is ART. ART is GAY. This post is gay. That day is gay. Your nickname is gay. Your nickname is a three-letter name. Your name sounds like some gay fuck I know and I hate. But I don't hate you. Well, not that much. I don't hate anyone. Not as much as I hate some people. Anyway, three events on the third, A-R-T, G-A-Y, *-*-*, and where were we?

Let me tell you where. You were already there. I dropped by Ishmael's exhibit and Miranda's premiere, then I went where you are, though I neither know nor care whether you are there or not. I never knew you. Nor did I expect you. We were not even introduced, as far as my selective memory remembers. You went home early and I walked you with your friends and you to the street where you are to take your ride home or to your friends' home. I am not quite sure when our network cables latched, but I am certain that I did the addition thing but you were the one who said something about a post that later resulted into a threaded exchanges of art talk, with subtle hints of my prying and your deflecting or averting or warding off. You never talked about what I am trying to get into.

Let me elaborate and reiterate: [vii][ vi][ v][ iv][iii][ ii][ i]. I think I would not lose anything by my slamming this subjective truths to your face. I do not think you would lose anything, as well. As you have told me, nothing would ever disturb you. I promised to tell you something disturbing but I am not ready to tell you yet, remember? This is it. As promised.

Let me keep this final post short (o r'lyeh?) and end this series by sending a message linking you to this post. You still seem to drift away. I hope no damage is inflicted. I do not expect any damage to be inflicted. Had there been any scratch, someone would be there to nurse however deep whatever wound you would suffer. And, no, that someone would not be-- And, no, it does not matter if-- Nothing matters these days anymore. Everything I have told anyone does not matter. Even the jesting exclamation of emotionless joy sent via electronic communication a while ago after knowing that our spectacles are of the same blur matters not.

Spectacles(trikethrough) [vii]

Specs[ vi][ v][ iv][iii][ ii][ i]. Everything might be a work of fiction. This is fiction. Stumbled upon fragments of fiction published in the Sunday Times Magazine. Not sure whether they are accessible though:

[Killing Disease][The Ouracle {i}][The Ouracle {ii}]

Looking at things from afar, this far, I think spectacles aren't enough. I will have to do something to get hold of binoculars. You take steps forward in reverse, as sung by wolves, and your presence seem to fade, and disappear, and totally melt into nonexistence beyond the horizon like panicking molecules of polar ice caps--getting away from each other like it is their 2012 and in effect shifting and changing and crossing another classical state of matter--upon the whisper, upon the genteel breath, upon the platonic visit of molecules of wandering summer breeze.

Binoculars and the mere thought of using them makes me feel awkward and filthy and awful as it implies peeping or surveillance or investigating or spying in despair and longing due to hopelessness of having the subject under my wing while--at the same time and at the similar intensity of proximity and relevance--belonging to the subject and looking at the subject face to face without having to feel that awkward feeling, that awkward act similar to sight seeing nature from tourists' perspectives through those binoculars you have to pay with coins to have a glance of mother nature's splendor and beauty and form and soul and flesh. The "pay" part makes binoculars allusion or comparison all the more awkward and ignoble and perverted and--well, fuck demure words, and let me say--pretty fucked up.

Guess I'll have to take steps forward in reverse, too. I have a lot of things to do as well, just like you and your peers and your co-whatevers. Unlike you, I have been trying to make time for our meditative duets. I have a lot of to-do lists and endeavors and reading lists and other sort of bullshit, just like you and your peers and your co-whatevers. Unlike you, I am speculating from afar making me and my assumptions ridiculous, if not insane--though insanity and ridicule may get along well and exist in the same room or consciousness. Yes, that is the rational thing to do. If the other took steps forward in reverse, then the other shall do likewise, so both the former other and the latter other crosses path sooner than they can say, --

Let me end with something about this fanaticism or obsession from Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig: "You are never dedicated to something you have complete confidence in. No one is fanatically shouting that the sun is going to rise tomorrow. They know it's going to rise tomorrow. When people are fanatically dedicated to political or religious faiths or any other kinds of dogmas or goals, it's always because these dogmas or goals are in doubt."

CarcositeNewsNet: Automobiles? In Carcosa?

The xanthous horror monarch actually had a "car" that he has acquired and now lost?! How can that be? This world is sick in the mind! And Bishops with SUVs? What are SUVs? Shub-niggurath Ulthar-cats Volkswagen? Oh, just in, breaking news! King Inang Yellow's was a Porschariot. The fuck. Anyway, sorry for the hysteria. And the mortal sin of a delay. Previous Archbishop Grouch news here. On with the news.

King's Porschariot [updated 06JULY2011]

Upon the relief of a Porschariot from the closet tentacly appendages of His Majesty, King Inang Yellow gets a handjobshake from Archbishop Oscar Grouch, one of his most vocal critics and former overlord 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 CBCP remains unconfirmed).

Heard over a leaked un-aired-as-of-yet telepathic phone sex interview which was not really that private, Grouch, wearing a school girl's uniform, cheered the Yellow King's letting go of his "third-handjob" Porschariot 911 Speed of Light Psychic Teleporter Into Other Cosmicism.

"It is a holy thing to do to relieve himself of the burden and further punishment that the Old Ones might inflict upon him," Grouch said. He added that acquiring anything, even within the reach of your powers, may not necessarily be "righteous" since "Kings are representations of particular Great Ones who rule particular universes, so Kings shall live lives as simple as those they represent."

"It is, like, a holy thing to be consumerist and in the process amass possessions if Carcosa were a nation loyal to the Great Old Ones to the point that we are given the chance to dominate and fuck with other galaxies," Grouch added. "If that were the case, having many possessions is justifiable since most citizens have an equal share of resources looted or snatched from denizens of weaker cosmic systems."

The marionette of the monarchy earlier said that the Porschariot was acquired through alchemical transmutation of The King's own possessions, magick, power, tatters and favor from the Old and the Deep Ones. The Yellow King's Bayerische Miskatonik Werke (BMW) Steed was sacrificed in the process of acquiring the controversial porschariot.

Bishops' SUVs [updated 07JULY2011]

Meanwhile, Grouch criticized the SUV bishops as "pussies having no delicadeza." In defense, the SUV bishops of CBCP said, in unison, "By the will of the great Old Ones, we shall return the SUVs and attempt to retract the alchemical calculations, transmutations and exchanges with the PCSO (Poor Cannibals Sweepstakes Office)."

"No mortal sin here, just mere fuckery of jerking off in a public place," Grouch added. The PCSO minister fingered three Carcosa bishops who received luxury rides--one even had a Pegasus and a Chimera chariot. During his birthday, one whining pussy so-called Buto Bishop Anak ng Dios, asked for the 'ride' from former Carcosa Matriarch of the Heavens Arroyo (we all know Arroyo, right?).

Grouch furthered that it is "fucking bullshit" for Arroyo to give "free rides" to bishops of various Cosmic Ones without the ex-matriarch expecting any handjobsshakes from the holy shepherds in return.

In another encounter, Grouch said that the Royal Cosmic Outer Church of the Meanings of Existence may punish the wretched SUV bishops for eternity and the Confederation of Bishops may as well call for the resignation of the jerk offs who broke their vow to serve the interests of the cannibals.

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

A Haiku introducing a haiku

Yes, this is about

that incident. A haiku

on human/e nature.

I hit the sheriff,

but it was in defense of

my constituents.

First Newborn for 2011

The increase in the number of posts seem exponential as months go by. I am not quite sure this time if I can maintain the regularity of releases or lack thereof of the previous months. Had a post in February, three in March, four in April, three in May and a fucking twenty posts in June. Anyway--

To date, certain unidentifiable flashes of moments of pre-creation, creation and post-creation in synapses during the last 24 hours were the highest of the highest peaks of nirvanas (or "orgasms" if you want this sentence to sound liberal and quotable and cool and hip) that I had this year. And, yes, no fancy disclaimers of this post being fiction just like everything our subjective realities shove up our throats and no speaking-in-riddles and guess-what-I-am-alluding-to's and see-if-you-know-who-this/these-"you/s"-is/are's this time.

Er... no, I'd rather not post either mechanically or digitally produced images (or "photographs") of the abomination that came out of one of the holes that excrete whatever they were supposed to regurgitate. Would write about the why soon. And, nope, wouldn't give any clue either what the artwork is about. Setting aside the backdrop for the ARREST concert (in collaboration with UP Painters' Club) way back in 2005, I think this newborn is the largest of the previous aborted, diarrheaed, vomited outraged malignant growths that stick themselves on museum walls or even sidewalks or anywhere they might consider a resting place.

I feel tired and energetic at the same time. Feeling like a drained battery that still has a lot of excess energy sure feels like a drained battery that still has a lot of excess energy and so on. Having no sleep and enjoying not having that sleep you should have had but you have not because of doing things you wanted to do despite the health hazards is something that can neither be expressed in words nor captured in pictures, even in memories. Those moments are those moments, existing in themselves, and forgotten no matter how sharp our memory recalls are. After those moments we remember what we want to remember, whether we are un/conscious of the schemes of selective memory and its friend, selective amnesia.

#s: 100th Post, 150 Poets, 15th Anniv, 100 Days

If you care to check this out again later, say, before the day ends, so that's 2359, there are supposed to be updates. *JULY26UPDATE: UNDERTHESTORM contents*

It has been a hundred posts ago since I started this this whatever this is I am doing, screaming things across the cyberspace that may or may not matter to strangers or non-strangers. Skeptic ones who care enough to count the entries herein may notice that the number of posts does not amount to a hundred. That is so because I have imported posts from an old blog and 'unpublished' them or saved them as drafts, thus the count, at least in my dashboard, says 100. So, let me, well, celebrate and contribute to the interwebz noise pollution via this post. This shall be a lengthy entry, but it seems like I will have to update this later. *update!* This post shall now be about four things: i.) The Under the Storm Antho; ii.) The Sakbayan anniv; iii) The 100 days of komix meme--do not proceed if you want to wait for the rest of the month before reading the rest of KarMa Kolektib-related trivia; and iv.) Something I am looking forward to.

i.

The Under the Storm Anthology of Contemporary Philippine poetry already listed 150 poets a while ago. However, the post seems unavailable at the moment, so, you may view the initial first, second and third sets here. I will be updating this post as soon as I see the list. I was quite overwhelmed upon reading it hours ago since there are, indeed, a lot of contemporaries, iyas co-fellows, elbi friends, other poet friends and, well, literary figures that already, say, made their respective marks in the local and even international literary scenes. *update!* I've read in the comments section of .MOV's page that the anthology will be in a book format. But, still, no news about where the list has gone. I wonder what came up. *07082011 update* Here is the list! Thank Cthulhu and the Great Olde Ones for this post.

1 Anne Carly Abad

2 Diego Jose Abad

3 Gemino Abad

4 Anina Abola

5 Jose Marte Abueg

6 Ericson Acosta

7 Arbeen Acuña

8 Jim Pascual Agustin

9 Arnold O. Aldaba

10 Kislap Alitaptap

11 Jovsky Almero

12 Tofi Alonte

13 Donato Mejia Alvarez

14 Panch Alvarez

15 Angelo B. Ancheta

16 Mark Angeles

17 Rebecca Anonuevo

18 Roberto Anonuevo

19 Teo Antonio

20 Lystra Aranal

21 Mesandel Virtusio Arguelles

22 Cesar Ruiz Aquino

23 A.M. Azada

24 Amado Bajarias

25 Desiree L. Balota

26 Romulo P. Baquiran, Jr.

27 Joi Barrios

28 Ariel Dim. Borlongan

29 Dave Buenviaje

30 Regine Cabato

31 Jose Wendell P. Capili

32 Ronan B. Capinding

33 Ronaldo Carcamo

34 F. Jordan Carnice

35 Lito Casaje

36 Ian Rosales Casocot

37 Marella Castro

38 Jose Jason L. Chancoco

39 Ayrie Ching

40 Frank Cimatu

41 Mikael de Lara Co

42 Kristian Sendon Cordero

43 Michael M. Coroza

44 Keith Cortez

45 Moises Anthony Cruz

46 Dakila Cutab

47 Lope Cui, Jr.

48 Jose Y. Dalisay, Jr.

49 Carlomar Daoana

50 Ramon Damasing

51 Mes De Guzman

52 Ainne Frances dela Cruz

53 Christa I. De La Cruz

54 Khavn De La Cruz

55 Noelle Leslie dela Cruz

56 Nikki De Los Santos

57 Karl R. De Mesa

58 Iñigo de Paula

59 Ricardo De Ungria

60 Lourd Ernest H. De Veyra

61 Noel del Prado

62 A Despi

63 Glenn Diaz

64 Lav Diaz

65 Alain Russ Dimzon

66 Jan Brandon Dollente

67 Jacob Walse-Dominguez

68 Simeon Dumdum, Jr.

69 Marjorie Evasco

70 Israfel Fagela

71 Bendix M. Fernandez

72 Boni Fojas-Almirante

73 Luis H. Francia

74 Marc Escalona Gaba

75 Eric Gamalinda

76 J. Neil Garcia

77 German Gervacio

78 Lolito Go

79 Eva B. Gubat

80 Ramil Digal Gulle

81 Asterio Enrico Gutierrez

82 Luisa A. Igloria

83 Neal Imperial

84 Mookie Katigbak-Lacuesta

85 Marne Kilates

86 Philip Yerro Kimpo, Jr.

87 Jeanilyn Kwan

88 Jose F. Lacaba

89 Marra PL. Lanot

90 Christine V. Lao

91 Gian Lao

92 Sandra Laureano

93 Elaine Lazaro

94 John Francis C. Losaria

95 Bienvenido Lumbera

96 Carlo Angelo V. Marcelo

97 Edgar B. Maranan

98 Luchie Maranan

99 Pia Montalban

100 V.E. Carmelo D. Nadera Jr.

101 Joanna Nicolas-Na

102 Homer B. Novicio

103 Emil Os

104 Voltaire Q. Oyzon

105 Doms Pagliawan

106 Agustin Pagusara

107 R. Torres Pandan

108 Ned Parfan

109 Allan Justo Pastrana

110 Carlos Piocos

111 Axel Pinpin

112 Zosimo Quibilan, Jr.

113 Jun Cruz Reyes

114 Fidel Rillo

115 Virgilio A. Rivas

116 Deedle Rodriguez-Tomlinson

117 Patrick Rosal

118 Darylle Rubino

119 Roger B Rueda

120 Jose Leonardo A. Sabilano

121 Joseph de Luna Saguid

122 Joel Pablo Salud

123 Edgar Calabia Samar

124 Rafael San Diego

125 Benilda Santos

126 Oscar Tantoco Serquina, Jr.

127 Tanya Sevilla-Simon

128 Danny Castillones Sillada

129 Beverly W. Siy

130 Bert Sulat, Jr.

131 Ramon C. Sunico

132 Christian Tablazon

133 Alyza Taguilaso

134 John Iremil E. Teodoro

135 Andrea B. Teran

136 Enrico C. Torralba

137 Ricky Torre

138 Denver Ejem Torres

139 Charles Bonoan Tuvilla

140 Roberto Ofanda Umil

141 RM Urquico

142 Czeriza Shennille Valencia

143 Eric Tinsay Valles

144 Joel Vega

145 Eliza Victoria

146 Santiago Villafania

147 Melissa Villa-Real Basmayor

148 Michael Carlo C. Villas

149 Alfred A. Yuson

150 Arlene J Yandug

ii.

Today, we also celebrate the 15th anniversary of Samahan ng Kabataan para sa Bayan--the widest party-alliance of student organizations, the one with the most membership in the University of the Philippines system. Read the statement of a former chairperson here, but you will need to have a facebook account. *update?* no update.

iii.

The 100 days of komiks awareness campaign also begins today [details here]. For this month, participants are to post anything--from status messages, links, images, to whatsoever--about their own titles. I would want to post KarMa Kolektib history in the next 30 days. I'll post my list here, for the same reason that I posted the 30day shit music shit challenge shit--for something that is more irrelevant to your life than most posts in this site are, ie, for reminding my self. Anyway, I'll update this from time to time and copypaste whatever is in here to that social networking site, for the sake of tagging and, well, networking. Let this be a personal journey into the komix ...plane. Eh?

001: Kartunista-Manunulat Kolektib (KarMa Kolektib) is the first komix group in UPLB as far as I can remember since there was none of such sort back when I was, well, younger.

002: KarMa Kolektib was founded on December 10, 2006--the same date of the 58th Universal Declaration of Human Rights Day.

003: KarMa Kolektib traces its roots to UPLB Ibarang, a socio-cultural organization of students delving into all art forms--from the visual arts, the literary arts, music, dance, and theater arts.

004: Though KarMa Kolektib limited its scope to the visual and the literary, it has been active as a performance art group lately--mashing up poetry, music, visual arts and sometimes theatrical hysteria, in a performance.

005: KarMa Kolektib staged shadowplays inside and outside the academe, in closed spaces and streets, anywhere as long as there's an OHP projector.

006: The first komix KarMa Kolektib released were those wall komix that comment on socio-political issues. Or as they call them "Komiks Sa Pader" (KSP). KSPs are posted on bulletin boards within the UPLB campus. And, are supposed to be uploaded in virtual Walls.

007: The first wall komix title was "Obobngata," a portmanteau of the names of the supposed characters, Oblette, Oblese, Mariang Banga and Rosetta. It plagued the bulletin boards on 2006.

008: The first zine-type released has a Tom Wolfe-ish title. "Obobngata: Ang mga Batang Pinalaya(s) sa Sinapupunan I: Oblette: Ang Engkwentro sa Palma Bridge." Or, roughly, "The Aborted Kids and their Fun," which is inconsistent with this post.

009: Most outputs of KarMa Kolektib in recent had something to do with my academic requirements. I remember, btw, submitting "the Aborted Kids and their Fun" zine in a class that only requires a short story. How careerist, though such deviance may also cause me trouble. Fortunately, it did not.

010: Even my creative output (the thesis equivalent in our course) was initially driven by komix--by "Obobngata" in particular. Would talk more about this next time.

011: "Little Judith and the Dolls of Gloomshade" was the first komix, wall komix, in english released by KarMa Kolektib. Mandy of the cartoon "Grim and Evil" inspired the birth of Judith--name is a reference to a song of A Perfect Circle about MJK's mom.

012: The first issue KarMa Kolektib vehemently commented on was the Large Lecture Class Policy that was proposed in 2007, or was that 2006? In a nutshell, the policy increases the class size from 30 to about 250 as a crosscutting measure despite the 300% tuition increase.

013: "Microeigengrau" was the wall komix, I think, that came next after "Judith." The characters Orestes and Eliphas the goat are commenting about military surveillance and all that shit that happens within the campus premises.

014: After "the Aborted Kids," KarMa Kolektib released the illustrated narrative "Lihim ng mga Lespu." It is about the LAKBAYAN (the long march of the basic sectors from Southern Tagalog to Mendiola) experience of a photographer friend of an activist.

015: KarMa Kolektib contributed to "Agunyas," a literary folio of UPLB Writers' Club. (This was during the vandalized NPC mural, I think.)

016: KarMa Kolektib participated in two Opus Elbi art exhibits spearheaded by UP Painters' Club--including the one that celebrates UPLB's centennial.

017: KarMa Kolektib has been consistently participating in Factsheet art exhibits that comment on the human rights situation of the country. These exhibits are spearheaded by Artists' Arrest.

018: KarMa Kolektib conducts workshops on komix and other related matters. The first was the campus-based workshop, "Mga Kwentong Out-of-the-Box na deKahon." KarMA, in partnership with different organizations, has been active in regional workshops as well.

019: KarMa Kolektib has also contributed to Kilometre64 Poetry Collective's projects.

020: KarMa Kolektib released a 2011 calendar x portable gallery last year. The calendar featuring members' artworks is a resolute stance against the Large Lecture Class Policy.

021: The Karmalendaryo 2011 was launched with "Panayam Kay Io," the zine that concluded the unconcluded 2006 "Obobngata." Vicarious in "Obobngata" was renamed as Io in the new version. "Panayam Kay Io" investigates the reason behind the motion of statues as seen by elbi constituents.

022: KarMA Kolektib is exploring the fliptop ...thing lately (Hey, correct me if I am wrong, resident members!) and sticker bombing the UPLB campus with a new ...trip called "Verso Libre."

023: KarMa Kolektib has also been doing live art (eh? hehe) in the corridors and the streets and the building within UPLB, painting murals, spreading awareness about campus and local issues and all that shit. The public exhibition is called Eksena sa Madla.

024: KarMa Kolektib has participated in Comics Conventions.

025: There are, I believe, KarMa Komiks in Crazy Carabao, Demarces / Santa Fe, Los Banos Laguna. I am not quite sure whether there are copies of Lihim ng mga Lespu at Sputnik, in Cubao. You may approach any group member for er.. orders.

026: A group of students awarded and recognized KarMa Kolektib and ..er a member of the group as an ARThrob. Awkward, but fine. :L

027: (shameless plug of upcoming project / title here)

028: (shameless plug of upcoming project / title here)

029: (shameless plug of upcoming project / title here)

030: Lastly, my undergrad creative output (as mentioned, the thesis equivalent in our degree course), "February Fair ng Dis Pater (Isang Proyekto sa Pagtitimpla ng Proscript)" is a metafiction inspired by the Arkham Asylum script of Grant Morrison for Dave McKean. I am considering revising and I might need help with the art part. If you are interested, you may ask me and I'll send the .pdf / manuscript via email. Overall feel of the post-apoc UPLB setting is biomechanical, btw. (I hope this fits as statmessage. If not, then a note will do.)

Please do drop a note or an email if you find inaccurate information. Thank you. *update* no update. Sad. Shall update this every now and then.

iv.

*this IS a spontaneous unedited motherfucking update, giving me an adrenaline rush*As I have said, I have just been phoned and I have just been employed and I shall be able to keep what is left of my soul. I thank the cosmos for this fuck of an opportunity. There are, however, opportunity costs, motherfuckers. I might have to say 'motherfucker' less, motherfuckers. Or, at least keep the 'motherfuckers' away from my other self. Moral burdens and credibility dilemmas suck. Wouldn't elaborate further. I hope nothing more complicated than this comes up. Though I know and I feel the vibes of an impending motherfucker that clears the way and wants to rape me with all its glory, despite my not being a mother. *sigh* motherfuckers. I feel high. Seriously. I want to start working. I am looking forward, manic monday. Let's see how we hit each other hard with crowbars of criticism. Oh, consider this post fiction, by the way. And, read up on who I am. I am a liar. Doubt everything you read in every humble abode I nest across the interwebs. *Must. Start. Working. On. Something. I. Want. To. Cram. Oh. The. Passion. For. Things. Without. Monetary. Value.*

Rephrase: Seriously, I think I really kept whatever is left of my soul prior to employment. Thus, thankful to the cosmos. Less compromises means less yet enough er.. resources, but more growth. Spiritual growth. Elemental maturity. Whatever those meant. And, no, I am not romanticizing or building up a facade of a me as someone passionate enough to starve as, say, an artist or something else. I fucked off a job, after taking the salary and the effort I expect to exert into consideration. And. To put it bluntly, I hate that place until now. Felt abused and harassed and ugh. Stop. Stopped. Back to what I shall be doing. Drive the spirits of mainstream gods away. Conquer the night. I have to stop this blabber. And. Focus. Now.