Archive for April, 2010

the no-approved-therapeutic-effect president

Posted in Uncategorized on April 30, 2010 by armedlittleboy

days before the election noynoy aquino is surging ahead in the surveys and it seems nothing can stop him now from winning the presidency. he is poised to win by a landslide, supported by almost 40% of the electorate. imagine that, from a nobody to THE ONE.

when he first emerged as a possible presidential candidate, weeks after the death of his mother, former president Cory Aquino, i was actually enamored by him. i thought he would be my presidential bet. that i would support him and that i would vote for him. i really thought he is what this country needs, until i really thought it over.

what is he offering really? what is he bringing into the table? aside from his parents’ contributions, there really is nothing much about him to be inspired of. he has not done anything of substance. he has not proven anything of worth. he reminds me of those numerous food supplements flooding the market that promise cures left and right. products that claim to be effective in this kind of illness or potent in that type of disease only to be followed by a “no approved therapeutic effect” reminder at the end of their spiel. its so nice to hear the promised benefits but there is just no supporting evidence to back it all up. such a pity.

wonder why hr people ask for past job experiences? or college performance from a fresh graduate? its because studies show that the best predictor of how an employee will perform in the future is his/her performance in the past. if the presidency is like a job application wherein the recruitment officer carefully sifts through a stack of resume to determine who will get an interview, noynoy’s resume which covers more than a decade of performance in the legislative, will sadly be one of the first to meet the paper shredder.

it is really a pity. i so want to believe in him. i so want to vote for him. but on closer scrutiny, there seems to be nothing worthwhile to scrutinize. he is nothing but a well-painted, 2-dimensional image of hope done by a nation too willing to believe in miracles to escape the too hard to swallow pill of reality.


top ten things i want to say to my mom

Posted in Uncategorized on April 27, 2010 by armedlittleboy

10. mommy, di mo kailangan subuan si shine (my dog) kung ayaw nya kumain, kakain din yan pag nagutom

9. mommy, please lang, tigilan mo na pagtatanong sa akin kung alam ko kung ano gagawin pag nag overheat ang sasakyan

8. uhm buntis na naman yung pusa, may ilalagay ka na naman na mga kuting sa plastic bag para itapon

7. hindi nga sabi ko nag drudrugs o nagsusugal!

6. ako talaga nakasira ng microwave, ikaw lang sinisi ko, naniwala ka naman

5.  ako din pala yung nakasira ng cordless phone hehe

4. may mga fans ka na dahil sa blog ko. pero wag mo babasahin kasi baka itakwil mo ko.

3. i promise mom that i will not make the same mistakes that my father made, which made your life (and mine too) quite miserable

2.  do not worry about me. i want you to live your life and enjoy it as much as possible. you have already spent too much time in bringing me up.

1. Happy birthday!!!!!!!!! I love you so much!!!

selling my soul

Posted in Uncategorized on April 22, 2010 by armedlittleboy

i am selling my soul. it does not feel good but i am doing it. i do not why. maybe i am just selfish. wanting things for myself. or maybe i am a coward. afraid to run after what i want from life. or maybe i am just plain stupid. putting myself in a world that i know is not for me.

i want to do something else. something that i feel for. something that looks like work but does not feel like work. something that would resemble my dreams.

i have simple dreams. but ironically, the simplest things are the hardest things to pursue. its the simplest things that require the greatest sacrifice. its the simplest things that need the biggest amount of courage.

we are living in a highly complicated world. one is forced to be complicated to be able to fit in. we need these complications in our lives to distract us from the truth.

the truth is simple. Ockham knew it all along. entia non sunt multiplicanda praeter necessitatem. entities must not be multiplied beyond necessity.

i am blabbing beyond what is necessary. i am lost. i am anchored, just in the wrong port.

dementia in the house

Posted in tales on April 18, 2010 by armedlittleboy

a few years before he died, he lost his mind. not just his sanity, but his entire fucking mind, with all the abilities and functions it once possessed. not the best way to go if you asked me and certainly not the best way to spend the last years of your life. sometimes i catch myself wondering when he really left us, on when he really died. was it the moment that his heart stopped beating or was it that instance when the last of his thoughts faded away and he became a mere symbol of what has been, not much different to tombstones, urns, and monuments (albeit a walking and breathing one)?

looking back, no one really knows how it started. some say it began with the flaring of temper, others say the shuffling of papers ushered it, while still others believe it started during his season of drought when he stopped taking a bath and his skin dried up. but come to think of it, when one already knows the ending, is it really important to figure out how it began? all we really have to know is that its not an easy journey the moment it started and it gets worse towards the end. like a storm setting up the stage for a major catastrophe with darkening clouds and powerful winds, he started the tragedy with small inconsequential, irritating, but still bearable idiosyncrasies. he started becoming obsessed with locking doors, gates, and drawers, accumulating papers and documents folded numerous times in his pockets, slamming unlocked doors, and folding and unfolding his clothes in the cabinet.

no one of course paid attention to these things. we all lock doors, fold papers, and arrange our clothes. there was nothing beyond normal about it at that time. until the shouting began. he shouted at everyone: his kids, his wife, his mother. and that’s when we began to suspect that something is happening that should not be happening. but before we know it, the tragedy is upon us and there is nothing we can do but sit back and watch as the painful story unfolds.

as his weird habits start gaining momentum, occupying his hours and filling up his days, his memories are slowly being shoved out of the way. again, no one knows for sure which memory was the first to go, but everyone is certain that the first ones to be hauled off into oblivion are those memories that matter: the name of his mother, his siblings, his kids, their anniversary as a couple, her birthday, his years of growing up, his friends. He would come across his mother and not know who she is, he will smile at his kids but could not remember their names, and he would sit beside his wife but did not know when, how, and why he love her.

but those were just memories. things we do, bonds we make, relationships we build, so that someday when we get too old to do things, make bonds, build relationships, we have something to remember, something to help us get by while we sit on that rocking chair awaiting for the setting of the sun. there are much more vital things that a person can forget. things that i thought no one can forget until he did. one day he just forgot how to drive a car, forgot how to read, forgot how to use a remote control, forgot how to lock a door, forgot how to sit on the urinal to poop, forgot how to use a spoon and fork, and eventually, to our utter surprise, forgot how to chew. all he did remember was how to lie down.

at that time, whenever i see him from my bedroom window, i could not help but think: who are you now? now that there is nothing left to try to figure out? who are you who looks like a person but does not have the things that make a person a person? who are you and who are we in relation to you?

several years have already passed. his shell has finally left us. i did not know if there was grief or whether there was relief at that moment. it seems we have mourned for him way in advance, back when his memories have died. we prayed for his soul, we buried his body, we consoled the family. everything seems mechanical now. going through the steps to make a passing away official. he have of course died a long time ago, but still, we need to do these things to seal this long-playing tragedy. put an end to the story. and hopefully, like him, to forget.

my mom is super eeewww

Posted in mom on April 16, 2010 by armedlittleboy

mom took out a big guava from the ref. sat beside me while watching TV and proceeded to munch away.
after several minutes:

mom: kaya mo to? (holding the guava, or what remains of it, a globe of seeds wet with her saliva. it seems she ate only, in a circular fashion, the flesh of the fruit)

me: yuck ka.

first aid

Posted in marwinisms on April 15, 2010 by armedlittleboy

I spent the past few days in the one of the simplest ways possible. I went to Busuanga last week and got myself isolated on an island 2 hours away by boat from the town center. Going there, I had a small panic attack as I realized our destination: an island with no TV, no cell phone signal, and electricity running only from 6pm to 6am. I longed to turn back and settle myself in the middle of coron town where electricity runs for 24 hours, cable TV is available, and a wide array of restaurants is present. I want civilization back on my side.

Trying to control my panic, I closed my eyes from the fast moving horizon and braced myself for whatever lies before me. After more or less 2 hours of being soaked by sprays of sea water created by our fast running boat, I finally got the glimpsed of the island in the middle of nowhere. It was beautiful, I grudgingly admitted. White sand, palm trees, mangroves on one side, and an imposing mountain at the back. I alighted the boat, went to the resort’s reception, and proceeded to our cottage. Walking through the resort, I somehow calmed down, and felt totally tranquilized as I saw our cottage: a quaint hut made from nipa with a hammock on a veranda overlooking a mangrove forest. We may be stranded, I thought, but we’re stranded in style.

For the next days, all I did was lay on a hammock while reading a book, did some swimming, a bit of kayaking, and a lot of eating. It made me realize that life is best enjoyed in its simplest forms. There is no need for air conditioning, cable television, 3D cinemas, fancy meals with fancy names, high-tech gadgets, credit cards, fast internet connection, designer coffee, branded clothes, throbbing club music, and the endless list of things that I thought I needed back in Manila. All of it seems to have been washed away in a far away shore in an island millions of light years away from where I was.

I was stripped away naked and naked I ran on the shore with delight.

Happiness, it seems, can be attained with only a pair of board shorts and a liberal amount of sunscreen.

I now understand why some foreigners readily gave up their comfortable first-world lives to live in a rural town in a third-world country. Less is certainly more.

But what puzzles me now is why we, specifically me, are so hesitant to let go of the clutter in our lives. Why we tend to hold certain inconsequential things close to our hearts and tremble at the mere thought of losing them. If these things are our security blanket, then we are headed for a lot of trouble. A vicious cycle of wanting, of collecting, of burying ourselves slowly but surely in things we do not really need.

I need to save myself. We need to save ourselves.

for the trampled grass

Posted in Uncategorized on April 7, 2010 by armedlittleboy

(Excerpt from Pablo Neruda’s I’m Explaining a Few Things)

You are going to ask: and where are the lilacs?
and the poppy-petalled metaphysics?
and the rain repeatedly spattering
its words and drilling them full
of apertures and birds?
I’ll tell you all the news.

And one morning all that was burning,
one morning the bonfires
leapt out of the earth
devouring human beings —
and from then on fire,
gunpowder from then on,
and from then on blood.
Bandits with planes and Moors,
bandits with finger-rings and duchesses,
bandits with black friars spattering blessings
came through the sky to kill children
and the blood of children ran through the streets
without fuss, like children’s blood.

Jackals that the jackals would despise,
stones that the dry thistle would bite on and spit out,
vipers that the vipers would abominate!

Face to face with you I have seen the blood
of Spain tower like a tide
to drown you in one wave
of pride and knives!

see my dead house,
look at broken Spain :
from every house burning metal flows
instead of flowers,
from every socket of Spain
Spain emerges
and from every dead child a rifle with eyes,
and from every crime bullets are born
which will one day find
the bull’s eye of your hearts.

And you’ll ask: why doesn’t his poetry
speak of dreams and leaves
and the great volcanoes of his native land?

Come and see the blood in the streets.
Come and see
The blood in the streets.
Come and see the blood
In the streets!