Birth, BLTX, Break, then Back to Working on BLTX things

Before shameless plugging all the way until the end of this quick spontaneous post, I would like to thank all the people across social networking sites who wished me well or who exerted effort in saying whatever the fvck they wanted to say, though those whatever-the-fvcks are, really, a tap on the shoulder telling me that I have turned a year older and seemingly asking me what I have done so far (amfeeling mo, self, wala namang ganoong intent ang mga bumati, assumero you), which makes me think and re-think, as always, what the fvck have I been doing, and whether I shall continue doing those fvckeries.

Now, let us exploit this day (I am to write about birthdays as soon as possible, and, maybe, put the write-up as introduction to one of the zines? hm... anyway, back to exploiting this day) and ask whether any of the people who, in essence, expressed their good will that the cosmos bless me, again, whether any of those people would be interested in reserving / pre-ordering any of these zines? If so, please tell me through whatever means. Ang Sandatahang Banga is a komix speculating / investigating the increasing number of, er, jars in UPLB. Pseudocuments: Volume One (yes, which means there is going to be a volume two) is a collection of, yes, prose poetry and pictures, from way back my undergraduate years up to the present. Harapin ang Hinagap is a collection of prose, also from way back my undergrad years up to the present. Both collections include un/published works. All, and hopefully, another, shall be released on March 2 @BLTX2. That is all, for now. Got to get things over with, so, again, thank you, and, I'll leave you with Wolfgang:

PS! Limited copies of the Komentaryo ng Kalbo zine for people who will purchase all three. Ayun, praning mode lang, thought of including the Spider Jerusalem fanfiction sa Harapin ang Hinagap, kaso baka pag ginamit ko for commercial use, tas maispatan, mamroblema pa ako. So, ayun! Kung may nakakaalam regarding mga ganoong bagay, pakisabi lang, ha. Kung wala naman palang problema sa copyright shiznit, baka isama ko na lang sa Hinagap ang Komentaryo.

What bloodless revolution?

[update | this artwork was published at the monsters and the monstrous journal, may, 2012]

This is Queen Inang Yellow, which existed on paper last year. This is among the many somethings that I am hesitant to release, but what the hell, now is the appropriate time and, thinking of it, it kinda reeks of Oedipal complex, as I look back at King Inang Yellow. This is how I see the so-called EDSA Revolution, which is not really to discredit the boost in morale that resulted into a show of force, a powerful force, by the Filipino people. This is also not a deliberate attempt to burst the bubble of those who see Corazon as a mother, a saint, or whatever reverence or fetish you have for that, er, madonna of the landed class, or mariang edsa. It's just that, this "power," this "yellow power" attributed to the yellow dynasty and what the heir to the yellow dynasty capitalizes on and utilizes, this "bloodless revolution" that his minions wanted to reenact tomorrow as testament to his revolt, or whatever the fvck he wants to call his crusade of saving the world despite his impotency, this delusion of "people power" seems overrated. Try asking yourselves, had there been any significant change? Those who nod are under the power of the image I present herein, a nightmare born of a dream, a symbol of "unfulfilled hopes*," a matriarch, so motherly you wouldn't feel her fatherly attributes, her tentacles. Oh, a song:

Again, this artwork is not new. Save for the first profit of doom, I have no new drawings yet, but I am determined to plan everything tonight so I can fulfill an intrapersonal promise. BTW, I have a sort of independent komiks slice of life journal entry thing [here]. (Memory does not just not serve me right, it is not serving me at all. Not sure whether I have posted this ikon somewhere. And, yes, I never run out of typographical errors. I've corrected a couple minutes ago. Andami kong shit. #endOfEntry)

(#startOfUpdate) Here's something posted by Cabring Cabrera of Datu's Tribe:

"People Power Picked a Pack of Pakshet People

A Pack of Pakshet People People Power Picked

If People Power Picked a Pack of Pakshet People,

Where's the Pack of Pakshet People People Power Picked?

Still in Power, People. (Pakshet.)\m/@@\m/"

Okay, trapik daw mamaya. Muli silang sasayaw sa bubog, at maglalakad ng tulog at muling mauuntog, ano, Chickoy Pura at The Jerks? Goodluck sa ating lahat.

*Pahabol: This does not, of course, mean I am for Marcos. I am simply reiterating that EDSA was made possible by the people, not by this political clan who stole the supposed victory and betrayed this supposed victory by, well, go watch Orapronobis or revisit history.

Yet Another Oath [BLTX]

[source]

Dear god, Better Living Through Xeroxography happens in less than a couple of weeks. The DIY, indie publishing, komix, poetry, fiction, zine, small press expo event gathering gettogether thing will be held on March 2, from 8pm to whenever, at Ilyong's Kalantiaw Cubao. I think there shall also be some sort of talk about indie publishing the following day. [see more posters / teasers / titles here] [see facebook event page here]

Here's the list of, er, apparitions / appearances. Copied the links from the curious couch: The Cabinet, Gelo Suarez, hal. journal, Heights, High Chair, Kubori Kikiam, Macoy, Omeng Estanislao, PANTAS (Pandayan ng Talino at Sining), Paper Monster Press, Patrick Rawwrr, QBCCC (The Quarterly Bathroom Companion Comics Compendium), Rob Cham, SSM (Silent Sanctum Manga), Tapat Journal, UP Writers' Club (UPWC), Youth and Beauty Brigade, and Zigzag Animals. BTW, if you are interested in showing up and selling your parapharnalia, email Adam David at juncruznaligas@gmail.com. Til friday ata pwede magpasabi.

[source]

As drought sucks the life force and the drive and the high and the essence out of me, I am only certain of one title to sell: Ang Sandatahang Banga. At the risk of preempting, I am preparing a prose poetry collection. If it sees the light of the day, and, of course, the light of the photocopying machine, prior the 2nd of the 3rd month, then it shall be available. Publications that might be available at BLTX that include [might include? might? kidding lang. may confirmation naman na, i think.] my works are: Hundred Loves (UPWC), Dream Pop Issue (PMP?), Blinds Tomo IX (PANTAS), The Words Get in the Way: An Erasures Anthology (YBB?), and, of course, Volumes 1 & 2 of QBCCC. Sana wala akong nalimot banggitin. I'll leave you with this super lovely truth:

Eksena sa kalye [iv]

Habang pauwi mula sa pinanggalingang lugar na matagal nang hindi nadadalaw dahil imbakan ito ng lahat ng alaalang pinaka--pinakamatamis at pinakamapait--habang pauwi ako mula sa isinumpang pinagpalang lugar na iyon, iniisip ko kung magsusulat ba ako tungkol dito, iniisip ko kung isisiwalat ko ba ang pagsusuri rito, iniisip ko kung ibabahagi ang mga agam-agam at mga kaba at mga panghihinayang at mga hinanakit at mga pangangailangan tulad ng pagwawaksi ng pakiramdam ng pangangailangang mangialam sa lugar na hindi ko naman na maituturing na teritoryo pero ninanais kong itratong ikalawa, ikatlo, ikaapat o ikalima pa ring tahanan, subalit hindi na maaari at may iba nang nakatira rito, at sila na ang magpapasya kung magpapadala sila sa pagkawasak, at sila na ang magdedesisyon kung mananatili ang dedikasyon nila sa sinserong pagbabago, at kung isasabuhay nila ang pagiging kritikal sa lahat ng oras, sa lahat ng tao, sa lahat ng pagkakataon, sa lahat ng dako, upang mapanatili ang kanilang pagkakabigkis sa interes ng mga tinataya nilang pinagsisilbihan nila, ng mga pinaniniwalaan nilang inaalayan nila ng buong oras nila at panahon, oras at panahong minsan din naming isinakripisyo, ngunit hindi naman pinagsisisihan, wala ring panunumbat, pero gusto kong isiping nagbuwis kami noong mga panahong iyon ng oras at panahon, oras at panahong binubuwis ng bagong dugo ng kabataang estudyante ngayon, bagong dugong masasayang kung hindi mailalatag nang mabuti, kung hindi mailalapat nang maigi, kung hindi maipandidilig sa tigang na lupa, kung hindi magdudulot ng pagyabong ng kilusang estudyante dahil sa ilang bitak ang lenteng ginagamit upang sumipat, ng ilang manlalansi ng kapwa para lamang magwagi at maisakatuparan ang mga platapormang pinaniniwalaan nilang makapagliligtas sa sanlibutan nang hindi man lamang dinidinig ang hinaing ng sanlibutan, sanlibutang yari sa mga bahaging ngayo'y naririyan pa rin ngunit tiyak na iba na ang mga katangian, maaring iba na rin ang mga pangalan, maaring iba na rin ang mga bahagi ng mga bahaging ito, subalit tiyak na halos ganoon pa rin ang ugat ng krisis, ng sakit, ng kanser, ng tumor, ng lason, ng lahat ng nakakapagpahirap sa mga bahagi at kabuuan, ngunit mistulang iba na ang mga manggagamot at mahirap nang tukuyin kung sino ang may karapatan manggamot at kung sino ang may kakayanang magbigay ng lunas, o mas masidhi kung mahirap nang matiyak kung mayroon pa nga bang tunay na manggagamot o tunay na makakapagturo man lamang sa kinaroroonan ng lunas, pero may natitiyak ako sa ngayon sa kabila ng kawalang-katiyakan, sa pamamagitan ng lenteng mayroon ako ngayon, nasipat ko sa nakaraang naging magkasama tayo noon at sa kasalukuyang lumipas na nagtagpo muli nang hindi mo man lang nalalaman ang dinulot mong karamdaman na tiyak na hindi mo rin alam na ikaw lamang ang lunas bagamat nagkaroon ng panandaliang lunas na pilit kong binanat upang magtagal subalit, tulad ng inaasahan, kahit gaano banatin ang oras, nagwawakas ito nang walang ni anumang batayan kung kailan itong muling magbabalik, o kung magbabalik pa nga ba, pero sana, muli kitang makasama sa lansangan upang maibsan kahit saglit ang paulit-ulit na binat, naroroon sa lansangan ang pag-asa sapagkat doon ang isa sa mga tiyak nating tagpuan kunsakaling tama ang hinuhang nakaugnay ang bawat lansangan sa lahat ng lansangang may bakas ng pakikibaka.

First Profit of Doom, 2012

I have not fully recovered from myself censoring myself, yet. But these are good signs, I hope. These three scribblings or doodles or whatever the ejaculation of ink on paper these are. I shall share my first drawing for this year. Yes, the first. And, it is already February. Frustrating, yet relieving that I have "voiced" out something, somehow. Hope the drought ends soon, and works-in-progress and planned projects pull themselves off, after I jumpstart engines and

get them going to the point of driving themselves on their own and each of them having its own life, to the point of losing myself into whatever the fvck such an ecstasy of giving birth to something worth giving birth to makes the mother feel, which I believe is some kind of pleasure and pain combo that makes one yearn for more of such sorta feeling. By the way, some people aborted what I've conceived or rather orphaned them, what I thought I've implanted on the ground I thought fertile. I still wish them well, though. They're the least worst anyway.

Bless me with your curses, dark february stars. Thanks for the accompaniment, poets I've translated, poets I could have offended in the process. Looking forward to the moment we meet. (Pardon the new age pagan bullshit, materialists. I kinda have transcendent trippings, at times, as you may have known.)

p.s. reference ang profit of doom sa pagbigkas ni peter steel, fyi, kbye.

8 bilang (Charles Bukowski)

Burador, of course. Para sa inyo, fothermuckerz.

8 bilang

ni Charles Bukowski [text], salin ni Acuña

mula sa banig

nanunuod ako

3 ibon

sa kable ng

telepono.

lumipad ang isa

palayo.

sumunod

ang isa pa.

naiwan ang isa,

at

maging ito

ay lumisan.

ang makinilya ko ay

lapida

nakapirmi.

at ako ay

nawili sa panunuod

ng ibon.

naisip ko lang

na ikuwento

sa iyo,

hindot.

Isang Awit sa Dulo ng Mundo (Czeslow Milosz)

Isang Awit sa Dulo ng Mundo

salin ni Acuña ng salin ni Anthony Milosz ng tula ni Czeslow Milosz [text]

Sa araw na magugunaw ang mundo

Umaaligid ang putakti sa lagundi

Tinatahi ng mangingisda ang kumikinang na lambat.

Lumulundag sa dagat ang butanding,

Sa may alulod naglalaro ang mga pipit

At ginto ang balat ng ulupong tulad ng dati.

Sa araw na magugunaw ang mundo

Lumalakad sa palayan ang mga babaeng nakapayong,

Nagpapahinga ang lasing sa gilid ng damuhan,

Sumisigaw sa lansangan ang mga nagbebenta ng gulay,

papalapit sa isla ang bangkang dilaw ang layag,

Nananatili ang tinig ng byolin sa ere

at tumutungo sa gabing maraming bituin.

At silang mga nag-aabang sa kidlat at kulog

ay mabibigo.

At silang mga nag-aabang sa mga pahiwatig at mga pakakak ng mga arkanghel

ay hindi maniniwalang nangyayari ito ngayon.

Hanggat nasa kaitaasan ang araw at ang buwan,

Hanggat binibisita ng bubuyog ang rosas,

Hanggat isinisilang ang malulusog na sanggol

Walang maniniwalang nangyayari ito ngayon.

Tanging ang matandang puti ang buhok, na magiging propeta

ngunit hindi pa propeta, sapagkat masyado siyang abala,

ang bibigkas nang paulit-ulit habang nagbibigkis ng kanyang kamatis:

Wala nang ibang dulo ang mundo,

Wala nang ibang dulo ang mundo.

Ang Wakas at ang Simula (Wislawa Szymborska)

Burador, as useless. Gusto ko ng UP diksyunaryong filipino. Medyo 
nirepaso: ika-5 ng Nobyembre 2012. May kopya ako ng salin ni 
Joseph Brodsky nitong parehong tula. Maisalin din kaya? 

Ang Wakas at ang Simula

salin ni Tilde Acuña ng salin 
ni Joanna Trzeciak ng tula 
ni Wislawa Szymborska

Matapos ang bawat digmaan

mayroong dapat magligpit.

Hindi isasaayos ng mga bagay
ang kanilang mga sarili, sa kabila ng lahat.

Mayroong dapat magtabi ng kalat

sa isang gilid ng kalsada,

upang makadaan

ang karitong puno ng bangkay.

Mayroong dapat na lumusong

sa latak at abo,

sa mga pako ng silya,

sa mga bubog,

at sa mga duguang katya.

Mayroong dapat humila sa tahilan

upang isandal sa dingding.

Mayroong dapat magpakintab ng bintana,

magkabit muli ng pinto.

Hindi ito maganda sa paningin,

at tumatagal nang ilang taon.

Lumisan na ang lahat ng kamera

para sa isa pang giyera.

Kakailanganin nating ibalik ang mga tulay,

pati ang mga bagong estasyon ng tren.

Magugulanit ang mga manggas

mula sa pagkakarolyo nito.

Tangan ang walis, mayroong

mga makakaalala pa rin ng nakagisnan.

Mayroong isa pang nakikinig

at tumatango nang may ulong hindi napugot.

Pero mayroon ding mga nasa di-kalayuang

nagsisimulang magbilang ng poste

at mapapagtantong nakakabato ito.

Mula sa halamanan

paminsa'y mayroong nakakabungkal

ng mga katwirang kinalawang na

at dadalhin ang mga ito sa tambak ng basura.

Ang mga nakakaalam

kung anong nagaganap dito'y

marapat na gumawa ng paraan para

sa mga kapos ang nalalaman.

At mas kaunti kaysa kapos.

At sa huli, singkaunti ng wala.

Sa damuhang lumabis ang paglago

ng mga sanhi at mga bunga,

mayroong dapat magpalawig

talim ng damo sa kanyang bibig

tumutunghay sa langit.

[ni zdzislaw beksinski (source)]

***baka gusto mo isalin [source]***

Love at First Sight

translated by Stanislaw Baranczak and Clare Cavanagh

They're both convinced

that a sudden passion joined them.

Such certainty is beautiful,

but uncertainty is more beautiful still.

Since they'd never met before, they're sure

that there'd been nothing between them.

But what's the word from the streets, staircases, hallways --

perhaps they've passed each other a million times?

I want to ask them

if they don't remember --

a moment face to face

in some revolving door?

perhaps a "sorry" muttered in a crowd?

a curt "wrong number" caught in the receiver?

but I know the answer.

No, they don't remember

They'd be amazed to hear

that Chance has been toying with them

now for years.

Not quite ready yet

to become their Destiny,

it pushed them close, drove them apart,

it barred their path,

stifling a laugh,

and then leaped aside.

There were signs and signals,

even if they couldn't read them yet.

Perhaps three years ago

or just last Tuesday

a certain leaf fluttered

from one shoulder to another?

Something was dropped and then picked up.

Who knows, maybe the ball that vanished

into childhood's thicket?

There were doorknobs and doorbells

where one touch had covered another

beforehand.

Suitcases checked and standing side by side.

One night, perhaps, the same dream,

grown hazy by morning.

Every beginning

is only a sequel, after all,

and the book of events

is always open halfway through.

Commemoration

translated by Joanna Trzeciak

They made love among the hazel shrubs

beneath the suns of dew,

entangling in their hair

a leafy residue.

Heart of the swallow

have mercy on them.

They knelt down by the lake,

combed out the earth and leaves,

and fish swam to the water's edge

shimmering like stars.

Heart of the swallow

have mercy on them.

The reflections of trees were steaming

off the rippling waves.

O swallow let this memory

forever be engraved.

O swallow, thorn of clouds,

anchor of the air,

Icarus improved,

Assumption in formal wear,

O swallow, the calligrapher,

timeless second hand,

early ornithogothic,

a crossed eye in the sky,

O swallow, pointed silence,

mourning full of joy,

halo over lovers,

have mercy on them.

Dark February Stars (Rasputina x Foo Fighters - Mash-up)

It has been a while, and here comes the Month. Eons ago, I attempted a mash-up of Meshuggah's obZen and Tool's Lateralus: LateralobZen. I hope I can do some sort of a variation in the vein of Alyza's Play: List. Ganda nyan. I cannot find any youtube video or mp3 streaming shit of Rasputina's Dark February, but, of course, as expected, we can view Foo Fighters's February Stars here. And, there, here (with a few tweaks here and there) is, uhm,

Dark February Stars

I'm hanging on here until

I'm gone. I'm right where

I belong:

In the dire obscurity

of another dark February

there lowers a fog of uncertainty,

just hanging on

on a thin gasp of wind known only to me,

my shivering sigh,

spreads a shadow far and wide,

even knows

I watched you come and go,

the frigid, leaden sky,

remains immobile, petrified,

how was I to know

you'd steal the show?

I will attempt to seek out the source,

of this ancient curse by the tempered gods,

of how the moon keeps on it's course,

one day I'll have enough to gamble

without being stopped by the cries of dogs,

I'll wait to hear your final call

and bet it all.

Oh my love I'm freezing,

I'm hanging on here until

I'm gone

in my marble dressing gown,

right where I belong,

cold, the oldest season,

hold me when the sun goes down,

just hanging on,

as this hesitant haze it deepens,

even knows,

I pass this time alone

under a blanket of doubt

I've been sleeping, here

a deterioration begins,

somewhere so unknown

where the tears that are wept are kept,

for safe keeping,

it heals the soul.

They say it will come to an end,

then all things will begin again,

you ask for walls,

I'll build them higher

in this eggshell atmosphere which is so very thin,

20 thousand million copper needles begin vibrating,

we'll lie in the shadows of them all.

My frigidity has been eclipsed

by the severity of my blue trembling lips,

I'd stand but they're much too tall,

I will have locked my heart at dusk,

I will open it again when the light comes in,

and I fall, my love. I'm freezing,

in my marble dressing gown,

february stars, floating in the dark

cold, the oldest season, temporary scars

hold me when the sun goes down,

february stars.