Hidalgo Love In The Digital Age

090178

EN11 R17

Hidalgo Love In The Digital Age

Local online photography forums—such as Lomomanila and Digital Photographer Philippines—are filled with Hidalgo stories. “Found a used Horizon Kompakt in good condition,” writes a regular forum crawler, “for half the price of the one I saw in Hongkong last year. Score!” Another user enthuses buying “loads of expired 135 slides for only PhP120 each,” obviously thrilled about filling his refrigerator with his film stash.

Found in the outskirts of Quiapo’s Muslim community, somewhere beyond Taft Avenue and just a few turns away from UST, is Hidalgo, a strip of shops focused on selling photography gear. From triple-lens compact plastic cameras to multi-coloured reflectors, vintage Russian cameras to flash diffusers in every conceivable shape and size, it seems that just about everything has been and can be found there—and at the right price.

Initially, from all the great finds shared on online forums, the word “Hidalgo” conjures up cobblestone paths, old-fashioned signage, tan walls darkened with age but well-kept all the same. Throw in a creepy shop assistant and musty air every now and then, for good measure. To the photography enthusiast, it wouldn’t be a stretch to call a place where Lubitels and Yashica Electro 35 GSNs are an everyday occurrence as nothing less than heaven.

The Hidalgo experience begins at the big Fujifilm sign at the curve. Filled to the brim with harder-to-find Fuji products like fresh 120 Velvia film, it will satisfy the frustrated film photography devotee who has paid one too many trips to Fuji Megamall in search of 35mm film slides. From there, it’s left onward to the “real” Hidalgo, where the stuff isn’t limited to just Fuji products.

The Hidalgo strip is nothing at all like what you’d expect. The strong mix of canal and smoke engulfs you at the first step, clinging to your every molecule. Although that coupled with cats defecating on the street and random blobs of phlegm are not enough to stop the committed photographer on a mission, newbies might get discouraged by the place’s total lack of glamour.

More so, entering shop after shop is a whirlwind of photography gear—tripods are suspended at low points, shelves stacked with lenses, brand names jumping out at you from every angle. In most, lighting equipment surround the receiving area for visitors, keeping all the merchandise and the sales assistants at bay behind high geometric tables. The sheer amount of stuff there is enough to overwhelm even the most experienced photographer.

However, the magic fades away after a while. A recurring theme emerges among the shops—each one is stocked to the brim, all right, but their stocks are the run-of-the-mill Canon slash Nikon slash Sony slash whatever camera brand stocks you find in stores. Compact, flashy consumer-grade point-and-shoots in different colours smile at you from the displays, dSLRs mounted on rotating platforms glance at you menacingly like a line of soldiers ready to, er, shoot.

Price points are depressingly similar, as well: lower, but not substantially so to merit making the trip all the way to Quiapo in the first place.

Where are the aged silver SLRs? Where are the bright, plastic Japanese cameras with multiple lenses?

No longer a part of Hidalgo, apparently. Digital has completely consumed the beloved photography haunt—literally leaving the film cameras outside near the curb, encased in transparent plastic cases.

Only one of the “film on the curb” displays had a crowd milling around it. A Zenit, A whole bunch of Canon AE-1s, a few Yashica rangefingers—film camera utopia. And no wonder: the man behind the cases speaking to customers was so knowledgeable about film SLR body-and-lens combinations that he immediately pointed out that a “Vivitar Ultra Wide & Slim” had a Vivitar-made body but would need a wide-angle Pentax lens. Although clarifications had to be made [the Vivitar Ultra Wide & Slim in question was compact; he had only SLRs], you could practically hear the audience in the background clapping, stamping their feet at the joy of knowing the “true” Hidalgo is still somewhere

Although Hidalgo has come along way from being the analog haven of before, its spirit is still alive. The integration of the digital culture may be taking over the world, but at least in this one corner of Manila, film is here to stay.

When Luxury Makes You SIck

092306
English 11 - R17
Ms. Iriz Anjelica Astillero
When Luxury Makes You Sick

“I could stay awake just to hear you breathing; watch you smile while you are sleeping...” Ugh! It’s the alarm again. I could have snoozed my phone for the third time if not for fear of waking my roommates.

My head went blank. I looked to my left and saw my roommate curling up on her blanket. I looked straight at the ceiling which I could almost touch with my hands; I saw nothing but pale white paint pure as a clean sheet of paper. It’s dull. It bores me. I closed my eyes, I really wanted to go back to my dreams so that I could escape this annoying feeling but my phone under my pillow vibrated.

1 New Message Received. It was my mom.

“Gcng k na b anak? I’ll call you later ha. Wag silent ang phone.”

It was my mom. She texted again like every other schooldays- reminding me of stuffs I usually ask her to like exams, assignments to be brought for submission and even org meetings for the day. It was the usual routine but my eyes widened when I saw the time on the upper left corner of my handy. It’s 7:45 in the morning and my class starts at 8: 30. I hurriedly went down. Took a bath. Brushed my teeth. Fixed myself and rushed to school.

It was a boring day. Nothing special. I wanted to go home.

Well, at least my 5-minute walk from the school isn’t that boring. It’s funny how I walked from the gate 3 pedestrian exit back to My Place. I was intently looking at its detail from afar. The terraces design of its facade gave it a classy and unique look compared to the buildings around the area. And what made it more outstanding among the rest was its yellow and blue paint which was very inviting. Very happy it seems.

Questions ran through my head. Why is that I would ever feel bored in a place like this? A place where everything is pretty and relaxing.

And now I’m standing outside this 7-storey building which earlier I was just looking from the overpass. From here, I can see our window on the fifth floor. I was staring at it from where I was till light from the afternoon sun flashed through the glass windows that hurt my eyes. I gently brushed my eyes and went on. Kuya Romar greeted me as soon as I approached the glass doors that he dutifully cleans every morning. I smiled as I pushed the cold silver-plated handle of the door. Too bad I forgot to swipe my VING card so the glass doors didn’t opened. Kuya Romar offered me help and swiped his own card. Now, that’s really techy how they are able to recognize a tenant and record his/her log in and log out time which at the end of the month will be used for our bills. And oh! Before I forgot, I’ve been here for a month now though it doesn’t seem because I’m still not used to having my VING card all the time.

I went in. The lobby was filled by fresh rose scent coming from the blue flower-filled china vase placed on a well-carved mahogany side table. To my right, there was a group of students gathered on the leather cushions on their laptops. They’re having fun but they don’t create unnecessary noises. I was tempted to say hi and make friends but I decided to just pass by.

I was heading for the elevator. On the hallways were some abstract paintings, colourful murals of teens living every day, dashing floor tiles, walls made of glass. Now that’s luxury, for me.

Ding. The elevator came. The silver-plated doors opened.

“Hi ma’am! Tataas ka po? (Going up?)” asked Ate Marissa. She is one of the chambermaids assigned on our floor. I smiled at her and went in. She swiped her yellow-blue VING card and pushed button 5. She was wearing pure white and yellow-blue chequered apron like everyone else. Beside her was a pail half full with water and a mop. On her left hand was the vacuum cleaner.

Ding. Elevator doors opened. She smiled at me indicating I can go out first, so I did. “Sige po ma’am. (Bye, ma’am.)” It was awkward being addressed that way. I watched as she turned left to the first corner. She’s gone. I’m all alone in this fully carpeted hallway. I can see myself on the mirrored walls.

I was alone but it didn’t felt that much. I know that somehow, someone is watching over me through the ACCTV cameras installed on every part of the building; somehow that feels awkward too. On the right side. On the left. There were ACCTV cameras and that really is very techy, I thought.

Sigh. I looked at myself on the mirror on the wall. Sigh. I walked along the hallway. Room 503. I pushed the door. It was locked. Again, I forgot to swipe my card. I placed my things on the carpeted floor and searched for the card that seems to open everything around here. I found it. I opened the door. No one was in. It was cold since the aircon doesn’t really go off even there was nobody inside. I went inside and placed my things on my desk. Everything was neat. Probably housekeeping again. I don’t know if I should be happy that I got nothing more to worry about my messy stuffs because way back home it’s all I ever wished for.

Sigh. I went to the kitchen. The marble lavatory was cold to touch. I turned the faucet on and washed my face with the cold water running through the spotless-clean faucet. I dried myself up and looked at myself on the mirror, again.

In a few hours, my roommates will be back from their classes. For now, the lights will beoff leaving only the light passing through the blinds to light up our cold dark room. In a few hours as well, someone’s going to knock on the door. Room Service. Either to deliver food or to collect our trash or laundries. Sigh.

I’m tired. I climbed up my bed. I closed my eyes.

The luxury that is in here... I wanna go home.

"Breaking" the Perception

092760
Ms. Astillero
R17

“Breaking” the Perception


Blinding fanlike spins, unbelievable feats of strength and amazing aerial rotations; this is how most people describe Breakdancing in society. To the average person, Breakdancing is all about flash and entertainment, and nothing more. It’s always about how many times a person can spin on his head, how long a person can hold himself up on one arm or how high a person’s back flip is. However, it is much more than how it is portrayed in society. This is why a group of friends are working tirelessly to change the skewed perception and reveal the truth. Through their unnatural grace, their gifted rhytm and their natural talent, the members of Soulstice Crew are trying their best to make a difference.

Soulstice is a crew composed of 12 dancers from different walks of life. The line up includes students from prestigious schools such as Ateneo de Manila and University of the Philippines, and people who are already working in various jobs to make ends meet. When one see’s them perform, their surreal speed reminds one of the moving blades of an electric fan while their unnatural strength obviously mocks the laws of gravity. Through their musicality, the ability to imitate the rhythm and construction of music through movement, one is shown a masterpiece that is both stunning and inspiring. Furthermore, these people, although very different in personality, upbringing and education are all united by the goal to change the perception of society’s view of Breakdancing.

The members of Soulstice Crew believe that media has played a big role in distorting the true essence of Breakdancing. First and foremost, one of the biggest sins of the media towards this art is inventing its own title for it. The correct term for the dance that was coined by its creators in the Bronx in the 80’s is Bboying. “B”, standing for multiple things such as Bronx boy, Beat boy and Break boy. It was only much later that the media came up with the term Break dance, and unfortunately, that is the term that stuck in society. Second, media never correctly portrays Bboying to the public since we are only shown the highlights and all the glitz and glamour of the art without ever seeing the dance aspect of it. The musicality, rhythm and flow of Bboys, people who practice the art of Bboying, are never shown on television because they are deemed not as eye catching as all the spins and flips involved in the dance. The wrong image portrayed by the media is the reason why many people, especially practitioners of more contemporary dances such as Jazz and Ballet, do not see Bboying as a legitimate form of dance. Lastly, Bboys are directly abused by the media. For all the trouble they go through to perfect their craft, Bboys are not paid a fair amount for their talent. Media takes advantage of the fact that many Bboys are poor and uneducated which is why they do not know any better.

The members of Soulstice are doing their part as educated and aware members of the Bboy community of the Philippines to change these perceptions. Jolo Desiderio, a member that is currently taking up Industrial Engineering in UP Diliman believes that “Compared to other countries, Bboying here in the Philippines is relatively new. Because society has no knowledge of what it is [they don’t fully understand it], they either reject it or try to make money from it [try to sell it since it is visually dynamic]. It is hard for them to see it as a legitimate dance and something that has a deeper meaning than simply spinning on your head.” It is amazing to see how these mere students, are fighting the norms and going against what media has brainwashed us to believe. However, what is it that pushes them?

According to Steph Verano, a 4th year student of Ateneo De Manila, “I tried it out wanting to prove something to someone but eventually it became much more than that. It gives me an opportunity to get to know a self not completely separate from reality, but an extension of the reality I want, a more personal choosing of how to move within my limits as a person and as a woman.” For Jolo, Bboying “is something that separates me from the uninteresting way of living that I have now. It is my escape from my routine reality. In Bboying, there are no limits which gives you the ability to be free.” As you can see, Bboying is much more than what media portrays it to be for these people.

Soulstice Crew has a long journey and battle ahead of themselves. On top of representing the Philippine hip-hop community, and making moves to end media abuse towards performers, these people also have to face normal and everyday issues such as studies, work and love life. It is truly inspiring how these young people are able to act on their passion without losing sight of their studies and work. Soulstice Crew is a great example of what the Filipino youth should aspire to be. As it is written on the official crew shirt, everyone should make it a point to “Aim High”!

The Big Fight

He stood there like a king surveying his surroundings from a balcony. Like an eagle on the watch for the slightest movement of a prey. As I walked to him, I hesitated for a moment, scared that he might scold me and thought of how I would introduce myself. There's just something so intimidating about him. Maybe it's his height or aura of authority. But I've learned to gather some courage and come up to him. And so I asked, “Ikaw po ba si Kuya Big Boy? (Are you Big Boy?)”

His whole name is Leovigildo Debulgado, Jr and he is the Information and Security Coordinator of the Ateneo High School. Students, graduates and employees of the Ateneo High School, fondly call him “Big Boy”. He smiled as he was asked the story behind the name “Big Boy”. “When I was assigned here in the Ateneo High School, there was already a “Big Boy”. He's also tall, but since I'm taller, the students called me “Bigger Boy”. But the name was too long and eventually Big Boy retired, so I was called “Big Boy”. With his 6'2 height and wide frame, anyone could mistake him for a basketball player. He graduated from the FEATI University, with a degree in Engineering. “I studied Engineering for 10 years. I was a working student then and I got delayed since I was a stubborn kid.” He shared that he didn't give up and did not let his stubbornness stop him from finishing college. 3^rd among 4 children, his father was a government employee and his mother was a public school teacher.

Life was normal for him until in January 2, 2006, the doctors had found a tumor in his brain. This proved why he had a hard time speaking. “I didn't feel any pain”, he shared. “Well, except that I easily got tired especially in the afternoons.” He is very much grateful to the Ateneo for creating fund-raising projects. “Even those who were former students of the Ateneo High School who are now based abroad made fund-raising projects for me.” He bowed his head and showed his scar from the operation. It's shaped like a thunder, as if he had a crooked hairline. After he had his operation in September of last year, he changed his views on life, his lifestyle and habits. “I felt as if I shouldn't waste time on little things”, he shared. “Remember that I was on the brim of death, so I savored each and every moment.” Before he got sick, he felt that he could do anything he wanted. He felt that he was on top of the world. “The students were so scared at me because I used to curse at them. I even cursed the parents, can you believe that?”. He shared his bad habits. “I used to drink and smoke a lot”. He needed to put those habits to a stop for they decreased his chances of survival. “Life is something to be cherished. We are granted with only one life so we shouldn't take it for granted.”

This is his 21^st year working for the Ateneo High School and he's one of its most popular and long-time employees. “I really love it here. Maganda ang samahan dito. (This school has great camaraderie.) The students respect and love me. He recounts his funniest and most memorable experience in the high school. A former student asked him a question about the novel “El Filibusterismo” by Jose Rizal. “I gave him the wrong answer. But good thing he passed the exam.” He laughed.

He shared some interesting things that he students do at school. “During class hours, some of them come to me and tell me they have a school activity outside school and the APSA allowed them to leave. And so I let them leave. Eventually I found out that they were just making it up.” He stopped to think of another one then said, “The boys are just really rowdy. You can't imagine.” He laughed.

Asked about his goals for the school, he said that he hopes to be an example to the students. Like him, they should come to school early. “At dapat hindi sila susuko sa kahit anong gawain. (They shouldn't give up on any task.) If I gave up just like that, I won't be alive today.” He wants to help the principal of the Ateneo High School, Fr. Raymund Benedict Hizon, S.J., achieve his goals for the school which are improvement of facilities and improvement of education. “Before I retire, I want to do something for the school.” And what made him stay in the Ateneo this long? “I stayed because of the love and happiness I feel when I'm around the students. They should always remember that I scare or even scold them not because I want to, but because I care for them and I know it's for their own good.”

Through Big Boy's experience, we realize how important life is. It is a gift that we sometimes take for granted or we overlook. We think that there's always tomorrow, that's why we don't treasure the things we see, hear, feel, taste and smell today. We can also infer from his experience that we can find life and happiness in others. He found life in the people around him, hence, the students. He realized that he's happy when he's around the students, so he found his drive to live.

There may be moments in our lives when we are in pain and we want to give up. But actually, we shouldn't give up because there are things worth living for and there are good things we are yet to see. We just don't see them because we are too busy and we don't want slow down. Big Boy taught us to fight; to fight for something we believe that is extremely important and worth celebrating, and that is life.

092650, R17

090979 Tagaytay: Coupling Nature and Technology

I burst out of the car when we had arrived at the site, breathed in the cool crisp mountain air of Tagaytay and took in the scene of nature at its best, happy memories of my childhood flooded back into my brain. I cast a fleeting glance across the landscape and realized with a start that almost nothing had changed since my younger days. True, the trees had grown and its impossible that the leaves I had stepped on were the same ones from my youth, but the calm, serene and natural ambiance of past road trips and family vacations was still there. Once we were outside the stuffy car, my cousins, my sisters and I just stood there, drew out the reminiscences of blissful, carefree days when getting down, and dirty was never a problem; the time when our parents had brought us to the mountaintop to feel the cold wind biting into our faces.

A bright sunny day, the sun shone down on my back, a cool breeze blew against my face, whisked my hair into frenzy, and the thick fabric of my shirt was just enough to keep me warm against the cold. There, right in front of me was a terrain of momentous beauty, it just astounded me and made me yearn to capture it in its splendor, and yet I did not want to ruin the moment by taking out the camera. It was as if the panorama would just disappear once I opened my bag, instead, I stood there and took in the picturesque view. Trees of all shapes, sizes and varieties lined the soft earth, tall and healthy; each gave off a different resin aroma. Fallen twigs and leaves snapped and crunched as I strolled through the grass, cut to such a length that it just carpets the ground with its soft shoots. The smattering of picnic tables and pavilions, painted with earthy colors, scattered complemented the natural atmosphere. They blended and harmonized, rather than counteracted, the elements of nature. Moss and dust were seen almost everywhere in the internal décor of the gazebos and gave me the distinct memory of hiking and sleeping under the stars.

The newest attraction of the Tagaytay Picnic Grove, the cable cars and zip line, seemed to have hundreds of people milling around the vicinity more than ever. I looked up as a scream; whether of fright or happiness, I would never know, cut through the continuous hum of mirth and chatter. I looked up and saw a stranger flew past above me, screaming at the top of her lungs to a pitch and decibel that would probably have been unbearable if I had listened any longer. Another person, grinning all the way and shouting something like “Darnaaaaaaaa!” zoomed by on the harness. I had excitedly run up the steps to the ticket booth and had chosen to try the much operated doubles harness with my sister, who was a coward, which made the ride going to the other side all the more enjoyable. I watched the reactions of the other riders; some were smiling and laughing the whole way, while others screamed and dared not to look down, while still others were merely quiet and didn’t move, probably from fear of falling. I was one of those from the first category of reactions and loved every minute of it. The harnesses were red and black, made of sturdy cloth and reeked of old mothballs and detergent soap. The harness enabled the riders to choose between going by oneself or going with another, and whether the passenger prefers sitting down or lying on your stomach. I chose to lie on my stomach since I had already experienced the zip line while sitting down, and because I felt that the experience was better, where I had seen the real depth and height of the drop, all hundred fifty meters or so down, as I was flying above. The trees and plants all looked so miniscule and impossibly low on the ground as I zoomed by, ecstatically enjoying the air rushing past me and the wind on my jovial face. The personnel who operated the machines said that Mr. Manggilaw, owner and proprietor of the zip line and cable car idea, insisted that the harnesses be washed every night and the cables repaired and oiled every week, ensuring the utmost safety and protection of their patrons.

I cringed away from the strong wind that made my eyes water and my hair resembling something like a rat’s nest. I admit, I was nervous that something might happen to me and my family while we were up there. After all, we went really fast on a single cable with nothing but a cloth harness strapped to my upper body against the biting wind. However, the employees assured me that their main concern is just the possibility of heavy rain, when they had to stop all the activities for fear that something might happen to their riders. On the other hand, strong wind was not much of a problem, since it, according to one of the staff, “adds to the thrill”. The prices were not so atrociously expensive that I would not want to return either. They were just right for someone who would pay reasonable amounts for the right degree of family fun and excitement. On weekdays, the single journey costs one hundred pesos (Php 100) per person, while the two-way journey costs two hundred pesos (Php 200); while on weekends, one way would be two hundred pesos (Php 200) and two-way is three hundred pesos (Php 300) per person. Of course, there really is not a value for the bonding and exuberant experience of spending time with family and strengthening of ties. So if you are game for some clean wacky fun; try out the Tagaytay Zip line. There is nothing like the feeling of zooming past trees to make one feel like flying. Overall, it is an excellent place for those who love the outdoors and the silence of rural zones; although more often than a moment of silence is, laughter and delighted shrieks pierced the air.

093917 Inside PNP Custodial Center

I was accompanied by my dad to the PNP Custodial Service located in Camp Crame. It is where people with high profile crimes who are still in trial are held in custody. The place is surrounded by walls about 4 meters high. Outside is a gate guarded by military soldiers wearing camouflage uniforms. Inside these walls are barracks for soldiers. Deeper inside the PNP Custodial Service is the actual place where the people in trial stay. The place where they stayed is surrounded by more walls. These walls are higher. They are about 10 meters high. On top of the corners of the walls are guard houses. There is also a soldier equipped with what I believe is an M-16 rifle patrolling around the walls. Inside the walls about 1 meter away from the walls are fences with barbed wires on top.
When we entered these walls, I couldn’t help but feel afraid. I am not sure exactly why I felt scared. Perhaps it was because I just didn’t know what to expect. My dad never gave me a background of the PNP Custodial Service. He just told me that the people held in custody there were people of high profile crimes. It’s like I was blindfolded and taken to a rollercoaster. You just don’t know what will happen next. That’s why you are afraid despite knowing you will be safe.
When we got inside the walls inside the PNP Custodial Service, I was surprised. When we walked in, there were men wearing house clothes. They greeted the guard who opened the gate for us and the guard greeted them back. They stood up and greeted my dad. Much to my surprise, these men were the ones being guarded by the walls. They were the people being trialled for high profile crimes. There were cells inside but they were not inside their cells. However, somehow, I felt safe. They did not look at all like what I expected. They did not look dangerous at all. I expected the people to look like killers. I imagined in my head men with muscular bodies covered with tattoos and their faces covered with facial hair. This is what your brain does when you are not sure what you are about to face. It creates haunting images that cause anxiety.
They were hospitable. They asked us to sit down. They even served us coffee. As the person who made the coffee handed me the cup, I saw in his eyes not the eyes of a criminal but that of a noble person. That puzzled me.
My dad serves the government which was primarily the reason why I gained access to the PNP Custodial Service. It turned out that he knew these people. He was friends with one of them. My dad talked to his friend. While they talked, I had a chance to observe the place and the people.
There was a small canteen with plastic tables and chairs. There were machines for lifting weights. There was half a basketball court and on the wall, I noticed a short bond paper. Written on it are scores of previous basketball games. They had basketball teams: teams Blue, Black, Yellow, Red and White. Written below the scores of the winning teams are the remarks “Suwerte lang” which meant and below the losing teams “Malas lang” which meant “just lucky” and “just unlucky.” In my opinion, this suggested or this hinted that they respected each other. This suggested that they did not see themselves as superior to anyone inside. They were not worthless criminals who knew nothing to do but trouble. There was a sense of peace and friendship. I could see it in the way they conversed with each other.
For some reason, I could not help but feel humbled. These were not normal people and I am not saying this because I know they are being trialled for high profile crimes. I could see that there was fire in their eyes. Not from anger. I wondered “What the hell are they in here for?” I overheard my dad’s conversation with his friend. They were talking about government matters. I could not pinpoint what exactly what they were talking about. Then I noticed on the wall in front of me a tarpaulin and written on it is the Samahang Magdalo Code of Conduct. I was beginning to have an idea of what they are. Later, my dad told me that the people there were officers who went against the government. The friend he was talking to was a 1 Star General who went against President Gloria Macapagal Arroyo.
I observed this person as he talked to my dad. He looked like he was in his 50’s. He looked like he had Chinese blood. What was striking about him however was that while he talked to my dad, he did not look like a broken person. And I began to notice the same with all the people inside. They looked like they still had their pride and their chins up high. Being trialled and confined in the PNP Custodial Service did not seem to crush their spirits.
All of them had this humbling aura of noble people. They had tremendous respect with each other and the guards respected them too. The guard with the M16 rifle did not seem to be guarding them with a close eye. It seemed he was only there just because it was part of the process for the people still in trial. It’s such a shame that these people are locked inside instead of doing service for our country. It’s such a waste.
Entering the PNP Custodial Service turned out to be more than what I expected. I was humbled and I felt like the subject I am touching on is way beyond me. I saw officers who stood up for what they believed not big time killers like I expected at first. They were people who had dreams of a better country, a better people and a better nation, my dad told me. In my opinion, these are noble people and it is just sad that they might be in jail after their trial. They stood up for what they think is right for the country. For me, that is heroic. For me, that is the meaning of nationalism.
As we exited the PNP Custodial Service, my dad told me, “That man was a great officer. He was very idealistic. However, idealism is far different from realism.” I realized he was right. I do believe that there are a lot of people who have dreams of a better country and know what’s right and wrong. However, that dream of a better country simply could not be achieved. I don’t know why. All the more I felt the subject I’m touching in is way beyond me. However, I do believe that whatever the reason why that dream of a better country could not be reached, it is still worth fighting for and that these men in custody deserve better.

090575

Into the Poem

Surrounded by the damp, smoggy evening air of Katipunan Avenue, Joel Toledo sat on the porch, around his friends holding cigarettes with thumbs and index fingers and signing autographs. In fact, he was quite unremarkable save for the few eagerly awaiting figures clutching thin blue books and pens, and the two Palanca Awards under his belt. He wore jeans, a green polo and glasses. He had a Baller band on his right wrist and wrote signatures and thank-you-notes with his left hand. His poetry was going to be read, but he said “that’s still later at 9.” He continued writing signatures, taking his time thanking the new found fan and listening to congratulatory small talk.

It was the 57^th Happy Mondays Poetry Night, Toledo released his new volume of 59 poems “The Long Lost Startle,” with pieces that won for him the 2006 Bridport Prize and the 2006 Meritage Press Prize. It was a night-long book signing and poetry reading event in celebration of his newly published paperback by the University of the Philippines Press at the mag:net Café, Gallery, Bar and Resto in Katipunan Avenue, venue of many a local artistic event.

Inside, the first floor proved its ‘Gallery’ title not just for show. On the plain white walls hung paintings idle passers-by noted as “pretty awesome,” all of which were on sale for various prices. They were a striking mix of gothic chic and modernist weirdness, along with every conceivable style, graffiti, pop culture, post-impressionism, cubism and abstractionism to name a few. All closely akin to the wall imagery in the upstairs bathroom; blue and yellow heavenly streaks of light coming from a man with a turban and a crystal ball, floating two hands-width above the toilet.

The other upstairs pieces were no different, a macabre Mickey Mouse photo and a sexually suggestive picture of a woman with “4 holes,” number 1 being a clear-cut hole on her thigh. They were all illuminated by yellow bulbs on the ceiling of the long, narrow room. Despite the size, the room does not suggest crowdedness. New age homey was the phrase, new age like the wasabi onion rings or Pinakbet pizza on their menu and homey like the food’s nostalgic aftertaste of forced vegetable consumption.

Right beside the stage was a table filled with merry old men holding beer bottles and spoonfuls of Sisig. From there stood a man wearing a just as casual get-up as the star of the night. Kris Lacaba, the evening’s host, gave a very warm and short introduction to Toledo, a fellow poet of his, and all the other special guest readers for tonight which he called the bigatin ng poetry (poetry greats), an impressive affair where all the great literary minds of the Philippines converged. He called upon Gemino Abad, who incidentally wrote the book’s introduction and is currently the director of the U.P. institute of Creative Writing, to the stage and recipient of a long list of awards and fellowships, who read ‘Softness’ from “The Long Lost Startle.” During which, Toledo entered the room silently and sat beside his wife and daughter of no more than ten, who came too in support of her father deep into a school night. “Now my father sits…” read Abad.

Among the other readers, too was Alfred ‘Krip’ Yuson, the world famous postmodernist Filipino writer with a “fanatic abhorrence for ordinary language” and a matured, gruff voice, read an apropos ‘Drunk Leaning Into the Poem,’ where he urged the audience to toast to the lines ‘get up, drink up.” He was one of the sagely old men drinking beers near the stage and laughing about retold stories of the past. He wore jeans and a blue soccer Zidane shirt for the event, and opened with something of an inside joke that made the nearby seated parties laugh. Patrick Rosal too, Global Filipino Literacy Awardee amongst others, also read from Toledo’s new book. Renowned film director Khavn de la Cruz, prolific translator Marne Kilates, TV personality Wincy Ong, all greats in their field, all reading poetry for a tightly packed room of no more than two dozen people sans waiters and staff, and all close friends of the artist who penned the words; from page to stage.

The entire evocative foray and celebration of the arts was postponed for an hour in Filipino fashion, spilled into the morning, and ended with musical performances by Ang Bandang Shirley, Goliath and Los Chupacabraz. “The Long Lost Startle, I believe, will be a considered a major work in Philippine Poetry” – Eric Gamalinda, and that two dozen blessed shall remember its humble beginnings.

Drunk Leaning Into the Poem

There is so much potential here. A steady rain

spoiling the backdrop, a spinning cliche.

Nothing seems more perfect than the hours spent

deciphering the cruel forms, the sturdy structures.

Nothing feels more poetic. Nick Joaquin, gone.

Franz tripping on his way to the Writing Center.

NVM going postmodern. The dead rise up to reclaim

their spaces in the tradition

Where are we, then, ensconced in the quiet evening,

safe from the rain? The critics lurk 'round the bend,

toasting the departure(d). And literature grows complex

like the gnarled branches of some local tree

I daresay, what has the heart to say in all this?

Some higher power must charge the words,

lead the blind to occasional vision. I see you: I hear

the straining voices of the dead, the rain growing older

moment by moment, sprawled miserably now,

hugging the streets like some bum or national artist.

Get up, drink up. There is no end to this weather,

no end to this talk.

Joel M. Toledo


Krip Yuzon