pauwi na ko kanina galing sa trabaho nung maisipan kong dumaan sa wendys para kumain. pumila ako kasi may babae pa akong naabutang umuorder. di naman masyadong katagalan kasi mukha namang kumuha ng customer relations workshop si kuyang nagkakahero. "sir dito na po", ang sabi nya. pumwesto na ako na at akmang bubuka na ang bibig para sabihin ang order ko nung biglang nag-aparisyon si kuyang gusgusin at sumisingit ng order. salad daw. meron daw ba silang salad. napatingin ako sa pinanggalingan ng boses; ayoko mang maging mapanghusga e, gusgusin nga talaga si kuya. para bang kakagaling lang nya sa mahabang lakad, o kaya'y mahabang pagkakaupo sa isang sulok ng edsa. naaalikabukan, nauusukan, pinagpapawisan. nangangamoy si kuya. at parang may ilang buwan na syang di nagsuklay. kung may malapit man sa ligong nangyayari, malamang hanggang punas lang yon ng bimpo. quiet lang ako. pinagmamasdan ko kung may kaibang gagawin si kuya at anytime nakaready na akong tumakbo pero mukha namang nasa tamang pag-iisip pa sya..ala lang sa tamang amoy. hehe. si kuya kahero pinauna ulit akong magsalita. kinuha nya ang order ko at mabilis na pinindot sa kaha ang presyo. sabay abot ng bayad ko. tapos balik sa pagkausap kay kuyang gusgusin para ipaliwanag ang iba't-ibang klase ng salad na meron sila. may hawak-hawak na 100 peso bill si kuyang gusgusin. nakatupi yon sa pagitan ng nga daliri nya gaya ng paghawak ng mga konduktor sa bus. nung makuha ko na ang order ko, agad akong pumunta sa peyborit kong sulok para pagmasdan ang mga susunod pang pangyayari. mukhang nagdowngrade si kuyang gusgusin. nung magkatabi pa kasi kami nadinig kong sabi nya na "bigyan mo ko nung 97 [pesos]". mula sa pagkakaupo ko, nakita kong pumasok ng CR si kuyang gusgusin habang inayos naman ni kuya kahero ang order nito. apat na side salad ang nakita kong inaayos nya sa plastik habang pangiti ngiti at pailing-iling. parang hindi alam kung pano mag-rereak. "nasa yari ka ba ako at anytime mag-aalis ng prosthetics si michael v.?" pati si ateng pa-order pa lang e napapailing din at napapangiti kay kuya kahero na para bang gustong mangusap ang mga mata nila at sabihing we share something inexplicable. nung bumalik si kuyang gusgusin galing CR, balik professional ang asta ni kuyang kahero na para bang di nya ininda ang moment nilang dalawa ni ate kanina. pinagmasdan ko si kuyang gusgusin habang papalabas. madaming naglalaro sa isip ko habang paalis sya. san nya nakuha yung 100 pesos? kinita kaya niya iyon sa kung anumang pinagkukunan nya ng kabuhayan at for a change dahil magpapasko naman e naisipan nyang magwendy's side salad? ilan na kaya ang mapapakain ng apat na order na yon? may mga anak kaya si kuya? sabay kapa sa bulsa ko. hindi kaya akin yung 100 na yon at baka nahulog ko sa mrt habang pababa kanina? ayokong maging mapanghusga kayat pilit na hininto ang pag-iisip ng kung anu ano pa. basta na lang ang sabi ko sa sarili ko, malamang ang motto ni kuyang gusgusin e nakuha nya sa title ng pelikula ni pops fernandez dati.. gusto ko nang lumigaya.
nasa mall ako kaninang tanghali para humabol sa pagbili ng mga ipanreregalo sa mga pamangkin at inaanak. at dahil pitong araw na lang at pasko na, kandahirap at taranta na ako sa pamimili ng kung ano ba ang bagay na ibigay kanino at kung ano. haay. ayan kasi. bisi sa kakablag, di tuloy napansin na magagahol na sa oras sa paghahanda ng mga regalo. hehehe. ayan diyentel, magbabalot ka pa ha, alalahanin mo. sino bang damuho ang nakaisip ng gift giving tuwing pasko? kelangan ko tuloy indahin ang siksikan, walang tigil na ikutan, at siyempre ang pilang pagkahaba-haba kanina. pero dahilan sa lumaki naman akong sanay sa kakapila, ayan, kahit medyo naiinis na ako eh nakuha ko na lang aliwin ang sarili ko sa pamamagitan ng pag-iisip ng kung ano ba ang magandang iblag. adik talaga, no? :) tingnan mo nga naman, mag-iisip pa lang ako e heto na ang grasyang biglang nahulog sa harapan ko. este, tagiliran ko pala. hehehe. bisi-bisihan kong inaaliw ang sarili ko sa pag-iisip ng tapik nang me narinig na lang akong iritang-irita na boses ng isang ate sa bandang kaliwa ko. "ano ba, diba dito naman talaga tayo kanina, di ba? umalis lang naman tayo sandali". lumingon ako mula sa pagmomoment ko para makita sa kanyang kabuuan si ateng eksenadora. si ate, patwitams pa naman ang get ap. papasa pa naman sanang extra sa Maynila ni Lito Atienza; yung mga tipong kapal-kapalan ang meyk ap at false eyelashes na dinadaanan ng camera at nakikipaglambutsingan kuno sa isang restawran bago iclose-up kina yasmien kurdi at ranier castillo..na nagpapatwitams din, haha!! ang kalambutsingan ni ate, hayan, si kuya.. hiyang hiya sa pag-eeksena ni ateng kapal-kapalan ang mukha. este meyk ap pala.. este, pwede all of the above na lang? :) gusto ko magreak pero ayoko magmukhang tsip kaya dedma na lang, parang alang narinig. buti na lang matyaga at di magkandatuto sa pag-alo si kuya para lang tumigil sa pagngawa ang ate mo. andyang sabihin nya na "dun na lang tayo sa likod", "umalis naman tayo kanina, di ba?" o "nakakahiya sa mga nakapila". na sa lahat ng sinabi nya gusto kong magreak at sabihing "bow, kuya, ang galing mo!" kung tutuusin, tama naman talagang di ko na lang pinansin si ateng twitams kasi di ko naman talaga siya nakita sa pila kanina. she was nonexistent to begin with. ahehehe. atsaka, andami na rin kayang nakasunod sa akin... sang milya na. patigasan na lang to ng mukha. ahehe. jowk. helow, kung tama ba sya e bat si kuya ang unang-unang bumaliktad papunta sa side namen? ano, sige.. sagutin mo nga?! kung naiinip ka na gaya ng pagkainip ko kanina sa ilang take na din namang eksena ng ate at kuya mo, eh i-fastforward na natin sa aktong ako na ang magbabayad ke ateng kahera. ayon, walang kagana-ganang pinants ang amount sabay tanong kung "may sm advantage card po ba kayo?". sinagot ko sya ng "next taym", sabay ngiti ng ngiting gustong magdayalog ng "ano ba, bilisan mo nalang ate, i wanna get outa here!! " hehehe. palayo na ako pero naririnig ko pa din si ate. nakapila na sya sa likod pero tuloy pa din ang tsorba. ang tindi talaga.
she was doing the laundry this morning when the company VP called, passing on to her some bad news. One of her subordinates just handed his resignation letter today. The VP was known for his foul temper and even fouler mouth, and its not hidden from ate’s knowledge that people in the office cringe and duck for cover whenever VP Foulmouth is drunk and swerving along the office premises. This has always been the case even when tatay was still alive and working there, too.
This hasn’t been the first resignation this week. The first one to hand a resignation letter was also her subordinate, and she suspects that the VP is one of the (big) reasons for them to be looking for new jobs, aside from seeking advancement in monetary terms too. She told me in an irked fashion that it falls on her to find replacements for those two, and fast. The company isn’t that big to be having a formal Human Resource Department so it kinda fell on her as the head accountant to do these things that concern the work she’s doing.
A little later, Jake, the subject of the VP and ate’s phone conversation called to formalize his resignation. Ate handled it well, telling Jake to recommend people whom he might think would want to apply for the job; and to tell his new employer to give him at least a month to train whoever will be hired as his replacement. After the call i asked her if Jake or the VP knew it was her birthday. She said yes. It seems people do not really care for anything except their own worries.
I remember looking at an old poster hanging at her bedroom wall when i was still a kid. When we moved to our new home the poster got lost and was never seen again. It contains the poem Desiderata, and she quoted a line to me just moments ago, from what she suspects came from the poem: “nothing can ever disturb my peace”. Or something like that. And then she laughed. Declaring that today is her birthday, and she will continue an unruffled existence no matter what.
thank you for your continued patronage. ;)
Why do we write? Why does man struggle so much to have his thoughts written on paper? Or a question for and among bloggers, why do we blog? The incessant need to have even the mundane and the trivial documented, and take their place amongst the important developments in our lives. Some say we do it for posterity's sake; so that we'll be remembered long after our frail bodies crumbled to dust and maggots got the best of us; so that grandchildren or distant relatives into the future who would stumble upon these writings will either tremble in admiration of our writing abilities, our good deeds, our gentle thoughts; or dig us out of our graves and slap us hard in the face..er skull.. for being the bastards that we are, shamelessly parading ourselves before the scrutinizing eye of our readers. Some also say that we do it for the instant and overnight fame that being wired and connected can do, for some of us who are attention-hungry. I won't do the talk and tell you that it's solely because of the first reason that got me propelling myself deep into the dizzying blogosphere; after all, i've told you i'm a camwhore haven't i? I do it for both reasons. Hehehe.
A recent article that came out in the Sunday magazine of the Inquirer, some few Sundays back, looked into the blogging phenomena; interviewing a handful of bloggers who managed to command good followings of their blogs. It went on to explore how anonymity and privacy can be compromised by just a few taps on the keyboard...self-publishing has never been this attractive in recent years! It also looked into how the blog-addicted can lose out on precious hours lived outside the net, living normal lives—lunching out with friends, a stroll in the park with mom and dad, or even one's quiet time with his or her partner. We are so connected, living entire lives in cyberspace—wondering each waking moment what could be worth blogging about; that we write about these potential happenings even before living them. Tsk, tsk. Ideas could be fatal, you know. J
Speaking of ideas, i have this one (again) that got made into a poem (again, hehehe). It's about a queen who has a poodle for a lover. Her entire court, raving mad at her decision, ran after her; chasing her and her lover er.. poodle, to their gruesome death. Bestial, ain't it? Haha! J For the juicy details, click here.
That's all for now; remember to always keep those ideas in check! :)
with special thanks to mr. lito villamarin for taking nice pictures of us while in ilocos last year. in photo - eyvicat, gentle, shattershards; and carabaos ningning and gingging. hehehe.
at the beginning of this month, i wrote my wishlist for this christmas season. topping my list was a compaq laptop, ending my entry on a note of uncertainty as to whether i can or cannot buy that much coveted shiny thing that kept on dancing in my mind's eye like rudolph the red-nosed reindeer on drugs. weeks passed, and an officemate who happened to know of my plan of buying a "writer's tool"--our little pet name for "laptop"--asked me whether i'm gonna push through or not with my plan. all i could manage in reply was a sigh of uncertainty, as all of us at work are really hoping for a good news to come from the powers-that-be in our office; that this season will really be a merry one, not just in name and spirit, but also in terms of material endowments--primarily the little pieces of bank-issued printed paper we affectionately call cash, hehehe.
party time came, and Big Boss issued the customary christmas message, warning us at the beginning of his speech of his "terribly bad" bad news. so terrible it is, according to him, that he had to wait for the other big bosses to pop out and join him in announcing the bad news. seems this new big boss have the penchant for the theatrical, i said to myself. weeks before that fateful speech, there have been rumors circulating that things were being worked out by our union president with the management to augment the measly salary we're receiving by a grant of a spectacular christmas bonus. as an employee already used to the nature of office gossip, i never really banked on receiving the rumored amount, not until i have incriminating proof that indeed, said rumors are true... well, it couldn't ring more true than this--straight from the horse's mouth, as it was announced in front of a crowd, mouths singularly gaping in anticipation and excitement hehehe. wham!! it hit me like a cold water slammed to the face. hehehe. HEHEHEHE.
then came the raffle draws. two of the major prizes that were raffled off were hp laptops costing around 40k each. just imagine me, gentle and calm on the outside, but seething on the inside as the winners were announced. i would be a hypocrite to not expect my name would be miraculously called from that list of around 500 people.. so yes, i did expect. i lost to a drunkard who cannot even stand on his feet and had to be dragged by his officemates to the stage to claim his laptop. well, i said to myself, at least the bonus plus a bit of cash coming from my savings will do enough to cover for a decent-looking laptop, once i get to invade the malls.
i held onto that thought as the night progressed; geneva cruz, whose vavavoom presence made heads turn 360 degrees, did an impromptu performance it seems, as she didn't have enough songs stashed in her repertoire to quench the crowd thirsting for a performance fitting royalty. hehehe. jeffrey hidalgo also graced our party, and so did kris lawrence, doing one song number each. jeffrey, aside from the solo number, also did a duet with geneva, singing the applauded "paraiso".
two days after the party, i stormed the malls, searching high and low for my dream laptop. the image of compaq immediately turned to dust when i laid my eyes on this baby--an acer, in full shining glory. so shiny that i dare not remove the protective film on its cover/ lid for fear that my baby "gael" get scratches all over. hehehe. yes. i call this shiny thing "gael" on eyvicat's suggestion that i name my laptop. it seems the trend nowadays, naming things you own with people names. eyvicat have his "diego", the dell laptop; while mr. chowking affectionately calls his car that we used going to caleruega with the rest of the crazee bunch, "priscilla". hehehe.
gael, in his infancy stage hasn't really churned out anything yet that his daddy can be proud of. there are still lotsa things to be done, like setting up the programs, connections, etc. nevertheless, like any proud papa, i've high hopes for this baby. go, gael show papa gentle your moves, baby... i'm waiting!
as we crackled like firecrackers
lighting up the gloom
in the silence of our cooling bodies
i planted a delicate kiss
on your nape, eyes closed
uttering a silent prayer
for each sweat-soaked thread
tasting all things stale and bitter-sweet
now in cinders
well that world is long gone now; years, indeed have ways of changing a person--for the good or the worse, well, only time will tell. suffice it to say that gentle outgrew rufus, and with that, heartbreak and loneliness. :) but memories (and music long forgotten) have ways of reestablishing themselves, i guess. i remember making that cd filled with rufus mp3s about three years ago, and giving it to someone--symbolic of the fact that i was then ready to let go of all the pain and the hurt. retiring for the night after a very long day, i heard it play. softly at first, then slowly building up to that characteristic swell of rufus emotions. he was singing "the money song". funny. how things sound differently now. where rufus sounded skeptical and questioning then, as with the line "my love... if your heart was made of gold, would i pluck it out and melt it down; be an american and weld the crown?", it just made perfect sense to me now that the character in this song is taking affirmative action to keep his beloved for good. hehehe. call it paradigm shift. or delusion. whatever. all i can say is, when rufus uttered the line "and you will believe in love" on the next track (april fools), i couldn't help but smile and go for pen and paper, to write a poem to cap the night. :)
image link : http://www.starpulse.com/Music/Wainwright,_Rufus/gallery/Rufus-Wainwright-u13/
i really had a blast seeing mr. chowking again, after that sarongbanggi night i had with him and eyvicat some years ago. he's now sporting a much slimmer physique and the same vavavoom image that is such a joy to behold, haha!! of course there were the new ones--not really new ones as eyvicat had truckloads of pictures to show me even before meeting them, so its like saying the meet up was just a sort of validation of who owns which face and which voice (as some of them i've spoken with, over the phone before).
there's the fascinating blogagotchi girl who easily switches accents, it seems, at the push of an imaginary button. hehehe. oh, and she writes poems, too! (double the fascination!) then there's mother zephyr who's just as fabulous as mr. chowking. we immediately hit it off, realizing we had the same teacher in spanish, and well, edel garcellano, too. the road trip we took was a blast; never running out of things to talk (and to laugh) about, even though purple E slept most of the time (she came from the graveyard shift, so we didnt take it against her, much. hehehe. kiddin.); but she was back in her undazed and unconfused self once the caleruega photo shoot commenced, and that deserves another entry with pictures taking centerstage. meeting naj, the last one i've spoken with, in the group, immediately reconnected me to my sob days in masscom. but she was a real nice lady; all pain went poof like a smoke, as we hit it off (decent images, please) on mr. chowking's car on the way to caleruega.
Caleruega really spelled out my weekend. i never really thought of it as a wow place before, having had glimpses of the quaint chapel-retreat cum forest reserve and ecopark on the outskirts of tagaytay, only from previous eyvicat pictures i've seen. seeing the place alive and kicking with its varied flora and fauna, and its showstopping hanging bridge firsthand, is an experience unto itself; one which will assault a first time visitor on all levels. and i mean, levels because its literally a hike, getting to the place; but i can say i was pleasantly assaulted. so assault me some more, please!!
much as i'm assuming that you, dear reader is enjoying this little write-up, i regret to cut short this post as i have pressing things to attend to. like choosing my outfit. :) will be meeting up with the crazee bunch again for a party-all-night thingie at the fort. so there... bye! hoping to regale you with interesting tales again, at the closing of the event. or, if no post follows immediately, just assume i had a blast and passed out on the dance floor. hehehe. :)
kuya has already replaced the broken lock when ate called me, tentative and calculating on how to break the news to me gently. as she was recounting the story, i can't help but have questions immediately running in my mind. were these people really with the police if so where is their search warrant? apparently they scared the wits out of my old mom that she wasnt able to demand to see their warrant--they just told her they have a warrant and proceeded forcing open the locked door. i don't really think a real policeman would do that. they could have just asked nicely; no need for such dramatic entrance if you ask me. the second thing to immediately pop into my head was to ask if anything valuable was taken by these men; to which ate replied that everything is still in order. so... could it be that they were telling the truth? that they were really police operatives? but the image of the broken lock in my head is still bothering me. they entered like crooks if you ask me. and who is this man they're looking for? one on their wanted list, they say.
over the years a small muslim settlement living on the outskirts of our subdivision slowly grew into quite an establishment, attracting fellow muslims who make a living either by selling pirated dvds, cellphones, or engaging in high-profit illegal drug trade. the settlement's image became so notorious that the mere mention of our subdivision to tricycle drivers is enough to get them scampering, looking for other passengers instead. i never really gave it much thought until this incident happened though, as i never really go out of the house whenever i go home to the province for the weekend. as ate was recounting some more details from the incident by sms, i remembered to ask her if they had it blottered already. she said yes, then i proceeded to ask what was the police's reaction--do they really have operatives working on the area the moment our house was broken into. no more text messages came in reply, just one saying ingat ako palagi.
another nerve-wracking thing, swimming in my noodle soup.
photo credit : http://www.howstuffworks.com/inside-lock.htm
If one eats vegetables exclusively for his or her diet, that person is called a vegetarian, right? What do you call then people relying on meat solely for their dietary requirements? Hehehe.. why, meatitarians, of course!!
Speaking of meaty, (“malaman” in the vernacular) manny pacquiao won his match yesterday with oscar dela hoya. Didn’t watch ‘em slug it out as I am particularly averse to violence (hence the name “gentle”) but just the same i’ve managed to update myself (willing or unwilling) as everywhere I went “pacman” was the toast of news updates aired on radio and television; not to mention the snippets of conversations I’ve manage to hear, passing by people in animated discussion. In the course of one of my catwalks, I’ve heard that manny thanked all the politicians present and who supported him in his latest bout with dela hoya; and to which (this I gotta verify, or if you wanna correct me through comments, go!) the host/ interviewee remarked something like “wow, you’re also an upcoming politician, manny.” Sigh. Is this a sign of things to come? Please oh please, no!! Just shine in what you’re good at, boy! Ok, host shows with chris tiu but stay there!
Well, speaking of politicians, I can’t help but marvel at the fact that really, it is a science. I mean, marketing yourself to as big a crowd your machinery can handle is no easy task. It entails lots of careful study on how to build an image that will really stand come election time, and oh my, how she excels! Listening to her parry and throw incisive questions (ala pacman punches) scrutinizing this and that.. I must say she is turning out to be the complete package. Amidst the blaring speakers as I tap tap tap.. I must say the media work done is a superb one! Haynaku.
Meanwhile in Gotham... another out of this world errand came up, as I was resuming this little hobby. My oh my, gentle, are you ready for another reunion? Knowing that the beat is covered, I expect to say yet another little onscreen "hello" in just a span of 1 week, to my first family in kamuning, haha! Well, an upcoming reunion entails a bit of relaxing and unwinding so I’ll look fresh for tomorrow’s exertions. A night at the spa seems to be a logical choice but I just can’t spend and spend as a lapie-toppie is of utmost priority. Hence I’ll just have to take a raincheck with a spa buddy who’s itching for a massage. Been texting me last Sunday but I had mixed feelings on saying yes; look at what my instincts confirmed.
Well, as the line from laura esquivel’s “like water for chocolate” goes: to the table or to the bed, you must come when you are bid. Bow!!
This is to inform you that Gentle, Master of the House of Enchantment and Eternal Bliss is currently contemplating of changing his “Hello Reader, I am Gentle” introduction.
It is in the light of recent developments in his writing life that had him taking the poet’s path, that little service road branching out from Prose Avenue and not usually taken because it’s dusty, meandering, haunted, and well, quite forgotten.
The aforementioned idea dawned on the master whilst performing his favorite Sunday morning activities that include raking dried leaves off the palace grounds, tending to the dogs, and dusting off cobwebs from the various art installations located in the main hall. These activities are so calming to his troubled mind that he actually had the time to realize that what transpired in his writings last night (poetry, poetry, poetry galore), might actually be a sign for him to consult his stars.
What the stars revealed—a matter that is hush-hush and strictly confidential—had the grand vizier deem talks containing such, as strictly prohibited, even more so in whispers. But being the nosy chambermaid that I am, I feel deeply honored to reveal to you, gentle reader, that the master plans to replace the existing lengthy introduction to just three words : “wordsmith in training”, or so my research tells me.
Please be advised though, that this is not an official statement issued by the palace; and that whosoever with authority (i.e. the palace guards) that catches you spreading such delicate talk with complete carefree abandon, might and will, take the necessary actions to expunge you of the memory of ever possessing aforementioned classified information . Extreme caution then is strongly advised.
Yours in Gentle service,
Oh dear guava
Oh dear guava
Round and green
Your skin is flecked
And your tummy’s pink
I stammer, I mumble
I stumble, I fumble
In my mouth, they sizzle
Yak yak yak
And you bite back
Oh dear guava,
Dear guava, dear!
Ugly sick pig
Ugly sick pig,
When will you squeak?
This mousy’s stiff scared
Of your size so big
You wriggled, you wiggled
Your snout for to bicker
I wrangled, I strangled
In this pen, so I’ve trembled
You dirty old bugger,
Think you’re so clever;
But this rat’s some weaver
So shudder and shiver
Harrow the sparrow
Drink me dry
Of woe and sorrow;
For I am tired
Of being a sparrow;
Singing so high
living so low--
harken to my plea,
straighten my arrow;
for it is crooked
and needing a marrow;
so drink me dry
harrow this sparrow.
in amber streams of sunlight
with you, darling tender rider;
to embrace you aglow
with warmth only the light
of day can bring.
oh how these feet crave
the softness of sand
on the beach we have trod on;
in those long walks we took
with the singing gulls
and the gentle breeze.
how long has it been,
since we danced
the dance of sweet whispers
in the prairie wind,
i dare not count the days;
for they fade away, screaming
with the mud splattered
on these coffin-walls
that we tear and scratch,
tear and scratch
til our voices grow hoarse,
and our fingernails crumble
in this sea of shadows,
they bleed our hearts dry
to shades of somber ochre,
the color of despair
in our entombed embrace
i weep and plead,
weep and plead; to any god
who’ll take heed--
for these eyes long to see yours
smiling and sparkling,
riding out of this long night
of coffins and dungeons,
and darkness devouring;
into that faraway land
of open sunlit fields
my delirious mind kept seeing
weep and plead,
weep and plead; to any god
who’ll take heed
as these hands long to hold yours
free of tethers and manacles--
just us, riding side by side;
across the blue of the horizon
and the green of the grass;
the soft spray of the sea
and gentle cooing of the wind.
stripping free of our skins,
running free in our spirits;
free to float and to giggle
with the motes unseen;
and to bathe, at last
in glorious golden sunshine--
in the glorious light of our love,
in the glorious light of ourselves
Nikon D40 camera
Play Station Portable
Blame it on the fast paced lives we live nowadays; or the ideal “wired without the wire” lifestyle being peddled to us every waking hour – television commercials, magazine advertisements and feature articles, the internet, towering billboards we pass by aboard the MRT; or still maybe its just me, dreaming of all these gadgets to finally say that I’ve arrived--I’m here, I conquered the world. [cue in madonna’s material girl, hehehe].
Last Saturday, I was at the local mall in the province (SM City Rosales is way too far) looking for laptop models to which I could temporarily latch on my technological yearnings, at least until that very much anticipated and talked about Christmas bonus arrives; the thing that would decide all things being pondered upon. Of course getting a laptop tops my tech list, as what is a blogger without a laptop? You may answer, still a blogger, you moron. Hehehe. Yes, yes but the laptop puts an oomph to what is already an attractive lifestyle we are living—those of paid slaves by day, fabulous bloggers by night. Marvelous, marvelous! So I went to this shop to check out the models available. The first two display shelves contain pricey (to my standards, that is), never-heard-of brands that put premium on specs. Good buy, but not to the brand conscious me hehehe—blame it to tatay, God bless his soul, who always put a premium on brand names when buying appliances—that this kiddo looked far and wide, crossing countless shelves until finally arriving to brand name heaven. Behold, the shelves containing top names in the mobile computing industry : Dell, Hewlett Packard, Compaq, Acer etc. Looking at these babies, I can’t help but marvel at the gloss and the finish; all the hard work that went into the hardware; everything looked nicely put from where I was standing, unlike with the fragile, drop-me-and-I’ll-break aura of the never-heard-of brands I looked at earlier. Was in the middle of profuse salivating when I noticed the prices—they don’t seem that pricey at all. In fact the never-heard-of brands seemed more like the branded ones judging the set from the price department’s perspective. Whoa! After intense thinking it occurred to me that these branded models do not really pack a wallop in the features department; as they are really entry level products designed for basic computing and internet access; thus their seeming factory prices hehe. Well, great for me, as I really don’t intend on playing tomb raider on any of ‘em. Well, well, well. I left the shop still in a haze…
I am really not intent on getting for myself this Christmas all the four gadgets in my wish list (tho, how I wish) since my finances wouldn’t really let me hehehe. So they’re just there to inspire (and taunt, whichever way one wants to look at it, your call, hehehe) until the next Christmas arrives. Besides, I’ve to buy things for my ever growing bunch of god children, and loved ones too. and that is my first priority. Christmas is really for the kids and our loved ones; and my non-material wish list far outweighs the material ones I’ve listed. It might sound a little Ms. Congeniality-ish but yes, I do dream of world peace, among other things, that our lovely planet and its citizens could use a little of. Now, now, my cheeks are getting wet… this simply won’t do. Somebody hand me a Kleenex please?
Perhaps its what others are calling “burnout”. I’ve been burning bright and clear as any shining beacon of light could, in this dimly lit, gloomy world—and by far that job has been carried out with panache for about 27 years and 6 months to this day; but for months now that light has been under a constant barrage of heavy downpour; much of the gentle you get here is already a roughed up gentle (the term 'roughed up gentle' first appeared in the hello commercials entry) trying to pass up as the still gentle gentle for old times sake. But lately the pressure of show business has been too much that even the simulated gentle persona slowly gives in to the dark side that i’ve tried so hard to resist [cue in darth vader’s theme here] ; more and more, my eyebags enlarge, seemingly acquiring bits and pieces of my brain meltdown because of heavy thinking; so forgive me, if i am not my usual self today as I dish out gentle servings of the week that was, in the life of gentle.
Monday - The new head of management spoke before us, assuring us that the status quo will be maintained, and yes, the Christmas bonus will remain intact, hehe. He then drew ten lucky winners of P5000 gift certificates afterward, in the gentle heat of the morning sun; did not leave the drawing of winners to one of his representatives unlike the previous head who’d immediately leave after addressing us. “This one’s got people skills, huh”, I thought to myself.
Tuesday - my past and present collide in this oh-so-delicious after-work awards night-cum-dinner thingie that I attended. It was sponsored by this group concerned with population and development; their publication arriving on a regular basis at the library, and which I religiously file in our filing boxes. Never in my wildest imaginings, have I ever thought that filing them in nice little green boxes would earn me ticket to eating chicken drizzled with brown sauce, with a teeny-weeny serving of brown rice on the side, at the Mandarin Oriental Suites in Gateway Mall at the Araneta Center in Cubao, hehe. former bosses from my practicum days, and old colleagues from my previous work were all there—proud awardees that they are (eherm, miron lang ako e)—providing a shining, shimmering background to an excruciating ordeal that I had to go through for nearly five hours. Glad I came out alive, hehehe. Well, enough of that night. I’ve said it would just be a one liner, haven’t i?
Wednesday – came late for work; officemates huddled close, all eager to get a feel of what the five hours felt like, hehehe. Now this is really a one liner!
Thursday – showed up at our medical clinic for the annual physical examination. Blood pressure is ok despite the LRT incident that had me running the 100 meter dash toward the bundy clock, hehehe. Showed my wrist to nurse and assured me its ok, then to the examining doctor (again) and assured me its ok, too. Feeling a bit like the girl from the o-k-k-k ubong 3K television commercial already, i shut my mouth and heaved a sigh of relief through the nose.
Friday – Went home to the province to attend to matters I’ve been putting on hold of late. Glad I made it on time, whew! Felt like a 100 meter dash again, really, as all roads led to SM City Rosales for its grand opening—traffic jam galore, Gabby Concepcion be damned! “Lakayen!”, [translation : Matanda na!] people I know who squeezed in to get a glimpse of KC’s dad remarked, somewhat disappointed at seeing crow’s feet in their matinee idol’s face. Later that night, I went with sis and mom to yet another relative’s wake; she died a day before my aunt tita’s interment. Sigh, so much death happening all at once.
Saturday – nothing happened much, except that I slept like a baby, hehehe. Now you might ask, is sleeping a bloggable thing? Well I think it is. You shouldn’t really be worrying about the bloggability of things here.. if I deem it blog-worthy, then the question of bloggableness is already resolved. Hehehe. Nosebleed ako. Ikaw? Hehehe.
Sunday – after putting off exercise in favor of blogging, I’ve manage to have the resolve of squeezing in my sun salutations and the full standing sequence of asanas before having an early dinner; early dinner so that we—mom, sis and i—could go again to the wake, much earlier than our performance last friday. Since sis would still be doing the dishes, I casually remarked, “great then, so I could still do a little blogging while waiting for you to finish”, to which mom replied “ay, kakakain mo lang ha”. Hehehe. Told mom not to fret too much; bloggin’ is not the same as joggin’—just sounds like. :) Sigh, generation gap nga naman no? Napangiti na lang kami ni ate, hehehe.
There, there. A week in the life of gentle.
undulating silken rivers
flowing through these veins
like late-night coffee talks
I take with you
in slumber I swim, up
your body’s highest peak,
wrestling the tides like a fish
in love with the moon;
to hang your picture
aglow with the stars--
frame your face
with the ebbing of the aurora
immortal for all to see--
like the dotted gods of the night sky;
ancient greek watchmen
gaze at steadily
you sip your cup, smiling
as you watch me wade
through this, my sea of lucid dreams
in between more sips
we swirl; undaunted even
as dawn crawls her steady pace
she finds me awake,
smelling of me and you
and night time fishes too.
note : this also appears in my poetry collection. click here for more.
i saw kuya bodjie at the mrt!! hehehe. i was this close *makes that thumb and forefinger action thingy, with matching squint at the left eye for exaggeration*, this close to dropping dead at his feet, convulsing with unexplained happiness at seeing my childhood hero just a few feet away from me. hehehe. those who grew up in the 80s watching batibot just might share my elation, witnessing something close to a phenomenon, that of seeing kuya bodjie sit (lucky he was able to, hehehe) amidst the everyday mess that is the mrt ride. really it just seemed yesterday, watching kuya bodjie tell a story, contorting his voice to be "in character", and delighting at how creative and imaginative he was with the drawings and sketches he did to complement the story he was telling; and the "batang batibot" just clapped like eating his next burger is dependent on it.. of course, with "batang batibot" i mean me, glued to the tv singing "bangkang papel" or "kapit bahay nyo", some 20 years ago, hehehe.
ah, time flies really quickly. now, the batang batibot is a tired employee caught in the daily grind of his life, riding the mrt and anxious to go home to start a half-remembered yoga routine, half remembered because nowadays blogging took up most of his "awake" moments. hehehe. and then this happened. feels like i'm like a kid again. the moment i saw him until i alighted at my train stop, i felt giddy--like a kid learning to ride his first bike; i've never been so starstruck like this. having worked in a media organization before, it has been a common thing for me, seeing tv personalities on a daily basis; passing mr famous singer smoking in the corridor before he goes on air, you catch a strange whiff and you get to decide that his fart smells exactly like yours...so what's the big deal with kuya bodjie? the kuya bodjie experience is different because he comes from a time in my life that is removed from all these worldly gentleness you are now reading. i mean, it was a time when gentle was really gentle, ya know. hehehe. so there.
watching him sitting and fiddling with his celfone, i observe that he's gone considerably old and tired-looking--not like the very animated, youngish kuya bodjie lost in the telling of his tale, we knew from way back. now thinking it over, maybe that was the character and this was the real kuya bodjie pascua--serious and haggard, just like everyone else; silly of me to believe everything the headwriter wrote. then again, it just entered my mind, writing this, that maybe its not kuya bodjie but just someone who happened to look like kuya bodjie. hehehe. no wonder no one in the mrt car was making a big fuss out of it, staring and oggling at the poor man like i did.
ah, i'm just tired, ya know. this is what a tired gentle mind is bound to make up, sooner or later. :)
photo credit http://zshali.multiply.com/journal/item/160/Ibalik_ang_BATIBOT
The rules of the award are:
1. The winner can put the logo on his / her blog.
2. Link the person you received your award from.
3. Nominate at least 7 other blogs.
4. Put links of those blogs on yours.
5. Leave a message on the blogs of those you have nominated.
I am passing this award to: Oliver, Popoy, Abou, Jamie, Ron, Yas, Spongebab, Salingpusa at marami pang iba kaso mahirap magtype at magkabit ng links hehehe.
To those I've nominated:
Uhm, tara, pizza tayo, libre nyo!! hehehe.
*drum roll...* ta-daa!! gentle's naked scribbles!! hehehe.
from now on, will be using blogspot for my online poems.. clicking the link in the side bar will lead you to the gentle goodies. feel free to indulge. :)
the film moves seamlessly over three timelines in human history : spain in medieval times, the scientific present, and the new-age, distant future. through all of these, the audience is anchored to the character of tommy (in hugh jackman's most un-wolverinistic screen incarnation to date, hehehe) a man whose love and devotion for his wife izzie (rachel weiss) made him embark on an adventure of a lifetime three times over--past, present and future. now, how grand can that be? grand i say. the movie, for instance, finds jackman's past incarnation tomas, in the heat of a battle with natives in a mayan jungle. this finds interesting contrast with an all-too-realistic tackling of the present where we find tommy as a surgeon-cum-geneticist in a quest to find the cure for izzie's rare and fatal disease. past present and future meld as vignettes overlapping each other, like in a symphony building up into a crescendo where we find tom, the bald new-age astronaut in tai-chi master garb, aboard his bubble ship (interesting, interesting concept) on the way to xibalba, the mayan underworld where the souls of the dead go. interestingly, xibalba is also a star on the verge of exploding. in izzie's writings (she kept a notebook where she scribbled ideas for a novel; this was where the characters of tomas the explorer and queen isabella, her alterego, materialized) she tied mayan concepts with biblical ideas like the tree of life. the film ends with images of the new-age tommy's bubble ship colliding with xibalba, (suggesting a reunion with izzie's immortal soul) artfully juxtaposed with tomas the explorer's finding of the tree of life atop a mayan pyramid.
watching the film for the first time can be a headache. aronofsky obviously intended this piece for second or third viewings for all the concepts to sink in, and for new discoveries to be... well, discovered. the film used actors sparingly, as weiss and jackman, with the addition of ellen burstyn as boss to the present-day tommy, pretty much delivered the philosophical expositions on life, loving, dying, and acceptance. now that is no small feat for an obscure, never-heard of film, or for any film, in that regard. what the production saved on actors' talent fees, it splurged on special effects and computer-generated sceneries; rendering the technical aspect of the movie at par with other recent hollywood undertakings.
conclusion : the fountain is an art house piece one shouldn't be watching with popcorn on hand; its meant to be savored gourmet style.
photo credits : http://www.canmag.com/news/4/3/5562
Ever checked your facebook to see that somebody posted pictures of you, tagged you in a huddle with a bunch of other partyphiles, all teeth for the camera, hair gel and everything; you smile, wondering when were these taken, and whose event was it? Who was with you; or the better question would be, who dragged you, knowing all too well you don’t really dig parties unless of course, you were there with somebody. You slowly scan the faces; not a single soul register a glimmer of recognition, then you stop—realization hitting you that you’re not even looking at yourself. Yes, same smile, forehead, eyebrow, haircut; he even dresses like you do, but nope, you know deep down inside that it isn’t you. Cold sweat start to form in beads round your forehead, trickling slowly as you stare in horror at gentle having a great time at the party with “friends”. What do you do?
It’s still an ongoing case, having just notified the person who tagged ‘me’ with ‘my set of friends’ of her serious error. I told her with all the diplomacy my gentle little heart could muster that her ‘gentle’ looks the part, but nope, sorry she just made a booboo. Its easy for her to make the mistake she did, as I really don’t know her personally. She just requested to be added to my friends list some months ago; and being the gentle person that I am, added her, with no foresight at all that she’ll go cute on me and tag the next person she sees looking like me as ‘gentle’ without even having met me. The nerve! What scares me is what if the person who currently has the ‘gentle’ tag possesses a criminal record? Just imagine the consequence of getting your name mixed up with someone.
But because the foregoing line of reasoning is not in line with the gentle image, I told her with all gentleness that what she did is unfair to the person she tagged, not giving him the chance to shine in the biz and be eventually known for his qualities. I empathize with him, the second-rate-trying-hard gentle, knowing fully well that having a larger shadow looming before you is a curse in show business. Hehehe.
Abangan ang susunod na kabanata.
Waiting for her body’s arrival last Friday fresh (!) from the funeral service which the family contracted, I let my thoughts wander off to very grave matters to pass the time. Her recent death, among others I know of, made me think of my own mortality. Events like this make excellent platforms for contemplating on the meaning of life and how we should live each moment that pass us by. With this realization came another. All of us cannot be brad pitts with perfectly chiseled features no matter how hard we strut our stuff in the catwalk. Corollary to this, is the acceptance that we must learn to find our place in the sun—or the klieg lights, if we strive to be in the movie industry—so as not to aspire for lead parts if our talents dictate that we be relegated to just playing bits. Hehehe.
You could say i was dreamily contemplating a carefully structured plan for showbiz domination when a rather loud but incoherent voice burst my bubble. It came from a lanky man wearing a black t-shirt, with rather gaunt features; pretty much sporting the marilyn manson look. he was already in the heat of the argument, defending his stance from the crowd assembled before him. The thing in question, after much fine-tuning, eventually became clear : how much is the family going to pay him, to smash open my uncle’s burial vault so she could be joined with his remains in loving eternity (how sweet, really). His asking price is Php 700.00, to which an aunt reacted, hoping to settle at much lower price. His voice in the vernacular, now getting louder, then replied “the price I’m asking for is only fair; it’s no easy task, smashing a vault open—you get all the dead gas goodies wafting through your system, and that is no laughing matter”. Watching mr. grave digger in an animated conversation was like looking at a corpse druggie come to life. From where I am, It looked like he just inhaled or downed something and proceeded to go about his order of business for the day. He milled about, looking every inch like the expert, and proceeded to knock on her wooden casket, like a jeweler biting gold to ascertain the karats. He then continued “it’s my asking price, take it or leave it. It’s a high-risk job compared to regular grave digging; now priced at Php 1000.00 per grave”.
I was having a grand time, making a mental note of the various prices; I never thought dying can be a good hunting ground for the enterprising. Later in the afternoon, one of my grandmothers from the web of interrelations / intermarriages characteristic of a barrio life came to visit, with another story in tow that brought the running talk on the price of funeral services. Sparing you of the juicy little details, I gathered that a basic service—coffin, embalming, lights and carriage to the church and later on to the cemetery—costs about Php16,000.00. now that’s a bit too pricey in a rural setting, isn’t it? No wonder she was fury incarnate just talking about it; recounting how they (their family also had a recent death) had to haggle for much reasonable price offerings from a competitor in the business.
“wow”, I thought to myself. If they just knew of the economy prices in metro manila (I use to live right next to a funeral home, hehehe) they’ll surely do a triple cartwheel. If memory serves me right the promo goes “6,000.00 sa matanda; 4,000.00 sa bata”. Well, that’s a bargain, isn’t it?
--Katherine, from the movie “The English Patient”
an aunt just died. went home for the province for her wake, spending most of the time at our not-quite-ancient ancestral house. She’s the second one in the brood of nine to take the final bow in this greatest show on earth called life. She’s a terrific cook. I’ll miss her delicious ginataang gabi. My fond memories of her doesn’t stop at cooking, though. At a tender age, she has piqued my interest for history; she’s the family historian, you know. The research-like quality that went into her recounting of our family tree, going as far back as their grandparents always amazed me—who married who, who has had an affair, and with whom; the gritty stuff that would make showbiz moles in Showbiz Central seem tame hehe. She used to run a piggery on the back lot, when I was still young and our family were still living near our ancestral house. I’d be tirelessly following her routine for the day, the curious child that I was—cleaning the pens, feeding the pigs, even to playing the nurse come birthing time for mama pig. You could say my early career in detective work did not end there. I’d even shamelessly follow her to her room where she was caring for my paralyzed uncle. Realizing in adulthood that she might have been pissed off with me, following her around like that back then, she never showed it if she were; she was careful to explain why my uncle has to be taken cared of, in simple terms that a nosy child could understand :). She led a difficult life, but she was a real strong woman.
Then she suffered a stroke. For four years she did not leave her sickbed. It pains me, every time we visit her, to see a very different person from what I so fondly recall in my childhood. Maybe its sadistic of me to even expect a bit of smile from her lips, knowing how hard its been for her; but somehow I’m still missing my old auntie tita—the one with the easy smile every time I follow her.
Late in the afternoon of Thursday, I received a forwarded sms from my sister telling us that our aunt passed away. Earlier in the week I originally scheduled a one-day leave from work hoping I’d get to spend a longer time with my family in the province. It seems its gonna be with the whole extended family after all. I spent the whole of yesterday in our ancestral house, talking with cousins, uncles and aunts--every little nook of the house bringing back certain memories that I halfly remember from way back. It was late in the afternoon when she was brought and finally arranged in the receiving room of the house, resplendent with embroidered curtains, carpet and bright lights from the funeral service. When the men who brought her opened her coffin for the first time, I looked and saw a familiar face. Older maybe, but the familiar, easy face. I uttered a silent prayer thanking her for the memories.
Rest in peace, auntie.
the article, by tristan choa is curiously titled "can yoga and competition go together?". the blabber brain in me already has a ready answer, just looking at the title, but my heart whispered, "go on, gentle... read; don't be carried away--for all you know its just a catchy title". following my gentle heart, i read--sentence upon sentence dealing with asana and all things yoga flowed ; all the while marveling at the the lean and toned physique of the model who graced the pages, first in standing bow, the next one in full upward bow pose.
the verdict? uhm. compete? to prepare for a possible inclusion of yoga to the olympics? uhm.. ah.. why?
been practicing yoga for 3 years now. its an on and off practice but it still is one, no matter how sparse it could be at times. i value my practice for the strength and flexibility benefits i get from it despite choosing not to dabble with the whole religious mumbo side; you won't see me knotted in pretzel with mala beads wrapped around my neck, chanting mantras dedicated to shiva, thats for sure (tho i have mala beads, just for the sheer joy of owning one, hehehe).
back in the days when i still attended yoga classes, i was introduced to ashtanga, the more athletic type of yoga that would have you sweating profusely by the bucket because of the internal heat generated by the pace of the practice. it was also sometimes called athletic yoga by some teachers, and fittingly so, because its meant to complement any athlete's chosen sport. put side by side the more meditative branches of yoga, you can say its the freak, man! whatever the case, practicing ashtanga alone, with just your breath to keep you company, retains yoga's meditative qualities--every breath and movement is a step toward a more relaxed state of being, if you just put your mind into it. having said that, i was aghast reading tristan's article, stating that there's an international initiative circulating to petition the International Olympic Committee to include yoga as a demonstration sport; the upcoming Philippine Yoga Asana Championship on november 24 could possibly prepare potential yoga athletes for the big event, should the committee happen to give in to the petitioners.
this isn't really meant to be an i-hate-you article. yoga die-hards could run to the event like mad cattle for all i care. i'm just registering my opinion in this, my corner of the blogosphere. as to the initial question if i was pleased with what i've read, uhm.. its good that yoga is being given a fair amount of exposure nowadays, so that's a plus point to my "pleasantly pleased" vote. but reading the article, and especially going through the mechanics of the competition (eg. that you have to finish performing certain poses for a certain number of minutes), well its a big swish to the negative side of my scale. sure, yoga teaches you to compete, but it should be with yourself, not on how long you'd be able to hold a pose compared to others. so, uhm... yup, not pleased.
Sigh—the price you have to pay for having such delicious (!) body. Hehehe. But seriously I’m alarmed, not with the photoshoot—confident that I can easily shake her out of her delirium either by force or by charms; that I’m not Mr. Body Beautiful and therefore should be dropped from the shock (!) list immediately—but because the whole sms conversation is a big arrow pointing to something I’ve been neglecting lately : my yoga and mat workouts.
Been growing cute and cuddly again especially in the mid section. Now, a little cute and cuddly-ness is a-ok, but not with the rate i'm going. hehehe. if you knew me back in college, and high school and elementary days (hehehe) you can testify to my overflowing (pun intended) cuteness then; and i am not in anyway aching for a reunion. Note to myself : blogging is fun, but puhleease gentle… exercise naman! Hmpf!
another one on names, consider amai pakpak somewhere in mindanao (i think). it used to go by another name, until the powers-that-be in that place came up with a resolution changing some letters in its name to make it more palatable to tagalog ears. clue, it used to be am*i p*kp*k, hehehe. this bit of info came from somebody who handles this sorta stuff in my place of work so if there's somebody passing by who might take offense, sue him! hehehe.
a flawless advertisement recently flaunted lorna tolentino in one of its EDSA billboards with the tagline "beauty becomes her". there's no question that lorna is beautiful; i just wish the person who cooked up the ad would have some bit of originality in his bone. anybody passing by who's a sucker for movies would immediately connect the meryl streep starrer "death becomes her" to it. would you want that to happen, especially if your promoting an aesthetics center?
--Dodong kay Ada.
mabuhay ka, carver. i dedicate this piece by dodong to anyone going through tough times. it sure makes waking up in the mornings a little lighter in the heart, and gentler in the mind. :)
the movie is about Story, a water nymph, a mere child who gets lost from her group, when one time they visited the land dwellers. Story is part of the narf (they call themselves that) populace whose mere presence inspire us people to dream of big things for our race--you might call them muses / angels that make our writers write beautiful songs, poems, pieces of literature that become reading stuff of the the future US president. its quite a mouthful really, but shyamalan managed to play the high drama in simple terms, beginning with a cartoon-like telling how it was between the narfs and the land dwellers (us) in the olden times. as the movie deals with the idea of the story itself--with the power of storytelling--its quite heavy in that its packed with myths; things taken from old chinese stuff (the authenticity of the narf legend i leave for you to research or just take mr. shyamalan's word for it). whats astonishing is that shyamalan managed to treat it like a bedtime story, with all the heavy details fading into background as live action takes place--computer generated creatures replacing the ideas we initially come to contact with--as we the audience get transported in his created world of the narf. its not so much lord-of-the-rings-y, being an entire world unto itself; the narf world intermingles with our tangible world, which makes the story all the more palpable and potent.
Story (the lady this time, not the idea; i hope your not confused, hehehe), having just lost her way gets stranded with the cleveland heep (giamatti's character), an apartment administrator, but before that, was a doctor who stopped practicing his profession because he wasnt able to save his family from being killed. in the course of Story's stay with cleaveland, he gets more and more intrigued by story's character and the deeper he studies (consulting a chinese tenant familiar to the narf myth), the more "opened" he becomes to the alternate reality existing side by side ours. wanting to help Story--whose actually the next narf queen, it turns out--reunite with her kin, cleaveland manages to form a support team from among the tenants who'll stage a most ambitious attempt to stage the rituals needed for Story's successful return to her world.
the baddies are a mingling of maquettes and some computer magic which do not really rival the feats of lord of the rings but for all intents and purposes serve to propel the story in the right direction. the wolf-like characters are menacing enough to make you grasp the edge of your seats whenever their presence is intimated on the screen. the monkey-like creatures who judge the baddies in the narf world make a brief but grand appearance, all the more advancing the dreamlike quality of the movie; add to that the wonderfully eerie rain drenched night shots captured onscreen by cinematographer chris doyle.
the movie, besides dallas howard and giamatti, are peopled not with hollywood stars but with actors (bob balaban was very entertaining in his turn as the movie critic and sole tenant to be killed by the wolf-like baddies) that lend this studio-financed enterprise an independent feel to it. and oh, heroes' noah gray cabey makes a sterling performance here, too, as the reluctant symbolist in Heep's ensemble of Story's supporters. the symbolist is supposed to decode what should be done by the other tenants--the "protector" protects, the "healer" heals, etc.--in specific points in the unfolding drama in Story's return to the narf world. he takes the commonplace occurences and reads the "divine" from them.
the movie too, is like that. its filled with symbolisms that start out as commonplace and will not hit you right away when you first watch it. subsequent re-watching would make you appreciate lady in the water all the more for its many layers. what originally started as a simple bedtime story could be accessed on many levels and this is where shyamalan really succeeded as a director, nope, i must say, auteur. i love what he has done with this.
photo credits :
Wah Sun stands in Florentino Torres St., in Sta. Cruz, Manila, in the outskirts of Ongpin, the Chinese settlement in the Metro that began alongside the flowering of the Spanish era in Philippine history. Wah Sun itself is not really that old, well at least not as old as its sister company, Los Ambos Mundos, which claims to be the oldest Spanish restaurant in the Philippines that my friend shattershards pointed out during one of our pig-out sessions in said place. The place collects lotsa old write ups from newspapers, and one did a feature on Ambos Mundos stating its origins. i really don’t have complaints bout the place—it serves the best paella in town, but because I am a certified Chinese resto guy, Ambos Mundos goes a notch down in my ranking of the best restaurants in the Metro to Wah Sun, the ultimate place to be for Chinese foodies like me.
One of my first and fondest memories of going to Wah Sun was with my dad, when the whole—and I mean extended family (aunts, uncles, and cousins)—still have the means, and the energy of going to excursion/ field trips to the big city. Being the provincianos that we are, it really is an event for the whole extended family to shop in SM malls and have lunch in unheard-of restos that my dad gets to decide on, being the only Manileño in the group. It is only later that I learned from him that the place was also passed on to him by my grandpa who was the first Wah Sun die hard fan in the family; well at least, to my knowledge. Now that you’re salivating profusely, and enough introduction has been said (!), consider these :
Pata tim so soft and tender that the meat slides of with ease from the bone the moment you slice a piece of it with the cutting knife. And of course there’s the sauce: delectable mushroom and cabbage brown sauce, poured generously onto the meat; White sauce to match the green peas-quail egg-shrimp mixture, the name of which I forgot (because its in Chinese), but in every bit scrumptious that you’ll forget even your own name. then there’s the lechon-asado plate, a mixture of the two basic dishes livened up with pickled green mango slices on the side. Partner up any dish by ordering their chorizo-laden special fried rice; or try having a go with their crabmeat fried rice—fast becoming a favorite on our recent visits to the place. Still have to order (makes a mental note) their special pancit canton, but if memory serves me right, it’s the ham and liver sauce again that spells the difference. Thick and yummy.
Got your mouths drooling now for a taste of Chinese cooking? I sure did. Slurp, slurp!
You can reach Wah Sun restaurant by alighting from the D. Jose Station of the LRT, or by taking any of the Quiapo plying jeepneys and alighting at the Isetann Department Store. Cover a little bit of C.M. Recto and turn right to the street facing the old Roben Cinema on your left. Enjoy!
photo credits : http://celdrantours.blogspot.com/2006/03/carlos-recommends_30.html
i raised my eyebrow thinking to myself, "welwelwel... welcome to the real world, hijo" and said "well thats the way they put a price tag on these things in manila. why, did you order one?", i asked, wishing a lot of luck with the pocket money for the trip his mom gave to him, if in fact he did so. "nope, i just joined a group sip ; one of my classmates ordered a frap", came the reply. " "oh, rich kid", i thought to myself, immediately followed by "i hope my nephew really just took a sip, knowing his capacity--a 'gulp' might actually cover the act". hehehe.
i quite expected his reaction, having been raised in the province myself, where coffee is something you just mix with hot water and some powdered milk; you stir and enjoy that home-made goodness--one foot conveniently sitting side by side your butt cheeks on a dilapidated chair--right in the privacy of your cozy dirty-kitchen. nothing as fancy as enjoying it gourmet style in a posh coffee shop with soft jazz tunes playing on the background. i can just imagine his culture shock, seeing all these people around him ordering coffee with prices which you'd just wanna stab your chest with, and hopefully die in the process. hehehe. that was also my first reaction when i was still working my ass off as paid-slave-cum-G.R.O. in my first job (!) ; happy to report now that i could enjoy in full shining glory the different flavors of iced coffees starbucks could offer; or enjoy that unique full-bodied flavor of a figaro kapeng barako, or coffee bean and tea leaf's addicting frenchroast.
sigh, i miss my cafe societe days, when just lounging in coffee houses immediately gives me a natural high. now i'm way past that episode and can honestly say that a cup of coffee served by way of the vendo machine within the office premises can be as exciting and as rich tasting as the bold flavors of starbucks, figaro and cbtl. you just have to have the mindset of a coffee connoisseur; enjoying the unique subtleties each sip brings to you. i jokingly remarked to my nephew that sure, i'd bring him to starbucks and order one of the fancy coffees when his mom and dad finds time away from their busy scheds to bring him to the bustling metro.. but nah, knowing him, i know he's evenly comfy sipping a P16 hot chocolate bought from 7eleven convenience store, so why bother? hehehe. he's had a sip of the frap anyways--he can proudly say 'i know how a frap tastes like'. :)
photo credits : http://www.flickr.com/photos/shutterberry/4171623/
lawyers are usually refered to as people in the "legal profession" if so, i'm thinking is there such a thing as an "illegal profession"? imagine nosebleeding your brains out in college only to be tagged as being in the "illegal profession". hehehe.
mel tiangco's public service segment in 24 Oras is titled "Kapusong Totoo". Cue in the voice over saying "Mel Tiangco, ang inyong kapusong totoo". why oh why did they come up with that tagline! its like saying theres a "kapusong peke"! welwelwel.
ever notice the maybank yellow signage (the one with the tiger as logo)? who the hell thought of such?! needless sign if you ask me. of course there's a bank! the yellow of the signage pulls you in only to state the obvious that there is a bank in the vicinity. duh. its exactly like the mayfarm sign i passed by in tarlac, riding the bus going to the province. nosebleed!