Andres

I am no historian so I won't dwell so much on who Andres Bonifacio was or what did he do to deserve such accolade in the annals of Philippine history.

But many years back (in 1996 I think), I watched a play of Philippine Educational Theater Association (PETA) on the Philippine Revolution titled 1896 and was terribly touched by the scene where Gregoria de Jesus (Bonifacio's wife) was looking for him and wondering if Bonifacio was safe. I was actually crying with her (Oryang's character) knowing that the scene before, Andres was already murdered.

Ignorant of the works of historical people, I never knew Oryang was actually singing a poem originally written by the real Gregoria de Jesus.

And so to commemorate my favorite hero's day, Andres Bonifacio, I am quoting here in full the poem of his wife. I copied the text from Kite on her Multiply account.

Magmula, Giliw, nang ikaw ay Pumanaw

Gregoria de Jesus

Magmula, giliw, nang ikaw ay pumanaw,

Katawan at puso ko’y walang paglagyan;

Lakad ng dugo sa ugat ay madalang,

Lalo’t magunita ang iyong palayaw.

Lubhang malabis ang aking pagdaramdam

Sa biglang paggayak mo’t ako’y panawan,

Alaala ako sa iyong pagdaraanan,

At gayundin naman sa iyong katawan.

Na baka sakaling ikaw ay kapusin,

Lumipas sa iyo oras ng pagkain;

Sakit na mabigat baka ka sumpungin

Na lagi mo na lamang sa aki’y daing.

Saan patutungo yaring kalagayan,

Dalamhating lubos liit ng katawan,

Magsaya’t kumain hindi mapalagay,

Maupo’t tumindig, alaala’y ikaw.

Kalakip ang wikang "magtiis, katawan",

Di pa nalulubos sa iyo ang layaw,

Bagong lalaganapang kaginhawaan

Ay biglang nag-isip na ikaw ay iwan.

At kung gumabi na, banig ay ihihiga,

Matang nag-aantok pipikit na bigla,

Sa pagkahimbing panaginip ka, sinta

Sabay ang balong ng di mapigil na luha.

Sa pagka-umaga, marahang titindig,

Tutop ng kamay yaring pusong masakit,

Tuloy na dungawan, kasabay ang silip,

Sa paroroonan mong hirap ay mahigpit.

Matapos sumilip, pagdaka’y lalabas,

Sa dulang kakanan agad haharap;

Ang iyong luklukan kung aking mamalas,

Dibdib ko’y puputok, paghinga’y banayad.

Sama ng loob ko’y sa aking mag-isa,

Di maipahayag sa mga kasama;

Puso ko ay lubos na pinagdurusa,

Tamis na bilin mo’y “magtiis ka, sinta."

Sa akin ay mahigpit mong tagubilin,

Saya’y hanapin at ang puso’y aliwin;

Naganap sumandali'y biglang titigil,

Alaala ka kung ano ang narating.

Mukha’y itutungo, luha’y papatak,

Katawan pipihit, lakad ay banayad;

Pagpasok sa silid, marahang igagayak

Damit na gagamitin sa aking paglakad.

Lilimutin mo yaring kahabag-habag,

Puhunang buhay tatawirin ang dagat;

Pag-alis ay sakit, paroroonan ay hirap,

Masayang palad mo sa huli ang sikat.

Ako’y lalakad, usok ang katulad;

Pagtaas ng puti, agiw ang katulad;

Ang bilin ko lamang, tandaan mo, liyag,

Kalihiman natin huwag ihahayag.

Paalam sa iyo, masarap magmahal,

May-ari ng puso ko’t kabiyak na katawan;

Paalam, giliw ko, sa iyo’y paalam.

Masayang sa iyo’y aking isasangla

Ang sulam pamahid sa mata ng luha,

Kung kapusin palad, buhay mawala,

Bangkay man ako, haharap sa iyong kusa.

Tikman nyo si Mark Angeles

Mark Angeles is a virgin. (I think.) :p

Maybe that was why he chose the title of his book as PATIKIM, literally meaning to taste, and with a tempting red hot chili on the cover. Cheesy with a double punch. Virgin na maniac. LOL.

I have heard of Mark, also known as Makoydakoykoy, and his beautiful prose but I never saw any of his works. Some said his works were printed in magazines and books and literary students discussed them in school.

Well- I never really have time to read literary mags except mags that relate to design and photography. Mark's works were not published there, of course.

But I discovered him through my Multiply account and we became instant friends. We actually have common similarities that made friendships click. Me a reader, and he a writer. Similar, right?

So when I finally had my copy of Patikim (it arrived today, signed of course), I quickly browsed through it and indeed, the book is hot!

Nilaplap na siya ng iba, tulad ng paglaplap ko sa kanya. Who can resist that?

I will be spending my weekend with Mark and taste him. No, his book I mean. I think I need a beer to go with his hot poems.

(Mark says there are only a few copies of Patikim, about 200 and part of the sales will go to KARAPATAN. His blogs can also be browsed at his Multiply and Blogspot accounts.)

Horrible! Terribly horrible!

The pictures offer confirmation; that is why it was important to publish them, in their gory detail. They shock us into realization: The men who did the killing, and the men who ordered it, could only have been either beasts or gods. The utter mercilessness of the mass murder, the gross shamelessness of it, is the mark of an unreasoning animal or a conscienceless being—an untouchable, a warlord or his son or his supporter perhaps, who can break human laws because he is a law unto himself. - Horror, Inquirer Editorial

Pictures from english.cri.cn, thepinoy.net, airamerica.com

Bloody, bloody, bloody!

It is our blood being spilled, our people who are dying. (Close Encounters of the Third Kind, 1977)

I was planning to write about some nice pizza a relative made us to taste. But every time I saw the hot sauce, it reminded me of blood and what was happening in Maguindanao. No, what already happened in Maguindanao.

I was asking myself what is there, in Maguindanao, that they have to kill?

Maguindanao. Ahhh that place where President Arroyo's opponent in the previous election got ZERO, NADA, NONE, WALA votes. Imagine that? I can't.

Maguindanao. A place obviously out of touch from the outside world because certain people wanted its citizens there not to know what is law and freedom. A land of savages. Or a place ruled by savages? Ruled by a greedy clan who wanted all of the wealth and power for themselves. They have to kill or else their wealth would be exposed. Kill! Kill! Kill!

Animals! And people were killed just like animals. The killers were a shame even to animals of the lowest level. But still they were animals who can only think of money, greed, politics and killing people so they could rule a place called Maguindanao.

Is this what the Muslims wanted? A separate state so they could kill everyone they do not like? What would be the future of an independent Mindanao? Bangsamoro my ass.

Evidence pointed to SOMEBODY in the government but even the national government was asking the suspects to surrender. Is this a show of desperation? A pathetic plea? O my.

What is happening to this country?

Black Today

Let us show support and concern for the victims of the Maguindanao Massacre. This senseless deaths due to POLITICS must stop! Let us wear black. Let them know we know. And we won't let them stop us from caring for life.

Between boxing and educating the poor

Efren [Peñaflorida] is the true hero and worthy of emulation by all. I believe he is better than Pacman [Manny Pacquiao] because he does not need to break a face just to be a hero. -Rep Eduardo Nonato Joson, Nueva Ecija

Picture from kevinraychua.com

Rain Song

With a drip, drip, drip,
And a drop, drop, drop,
See the rain on the pane;
Will it stop, stop, stop?

With a wink, wink, wink,
And a blink, blink, blink,
Will we see sun again,
Do you think, think, think?


Abbie Farwell Brown

Adik!

I am currently reading Dot in the Universe by Lucy Ellmann and find the book outrageous! There are funny instances and mostly weird stuff she wrote. I am even wondering if she was rather high on something when she wrote Dot in the Universe or she is just a plain crazy woman.

And I love it!

Some snippets from the book-

Love, like defecation, is never a settled matter. It forms and re-forms itself, makes itself felt, makes itself a NUISANCE. Merely a vehicle for physical exchange with another- illogical to place so much importance on it.

Like all gourmands, Dot and her hubby used food as a substitute for sex. But maybe sex is a substitute for FOOD. Food is essential, sex a LUXURY. Why else would it be so easily SUPPLANTED by shopping, gardening, cooking or watching TV (all unconscious FOOD-GATHERING activities- you may think you're not accomplishing much by watching TV for nine hours but you're actually accumulating DATA that might some day help in the search for FOOD: like a leopard up a tree, you're gaining perspective?)

The world is not a unified and harmonious structure. From the baby's desertion of the womb to the clear demarcations between land and sea, night and day, oil and vinegar, chalk and cheese, inside and out, substances see SEPARATION. For every pull towards union there's equal or greater pressure to DIVIDE, disperse, disentangle, disintegrate. You never fully merge with anyone, you never fully UNDERSTAND anyone, including yourself. You come out of nothing, come out with nothing. It would be insulting to MISREPRESENT this, to suggest there could ever be togetherness that made up for how lonely we are.

Ah, but near-perfection's not better! The haphazard, the untried. There is no FUTURE in perfection, nowhere left to go. There's no LIFE in it. You stop loving, stop trying, when everything is perfect.

You'd think that by now the world would be overrun with ghosts- so MANY dead!- ghosts everywhere, YOUR ghosts getting mixed up with MY ghosts, a hundred to every house, confusing everybody with their thumps and whispers and dropped crockery and eerie trails of smoke. Ghosts in grey, ghosts in green.

But they didn't die of ANOREXIA as everyone supposes. They died of BRONZING TREATMENTS, VITALITY DETOXES, MOTHERS-TO-BE SERENITY FACIALS, COLONIC IRRIGATION, BIKINI WAXES and RADIANCE. That ain't no colonic irrigation, honey, that ain't no BIKINI WAX. That's having the SHIT sucked out of you and the PUSSY ripped off you! And a mother-to-be serenity facial just means you get MUD slapped on your face because you got KNOCKED UP.

They died of EUPHEMISM. It would kill an OX.

This is why ghosts are seen wafting around their old homes: they're looking for their FUCKING BIRTH CERTIFICATE, the original not a photocopy. It's surprising that seances aren't jammed with spirits asking, 'What the hell did you do with my HANDBAG/ BRIEFCASE/ WALLET/ DRIVER'S LICENCE/ EXAM RESULTS?'

People act like their child is their own personal DESIGN for the perfect person, but actually they have little control over what the kid becomes.

People take you up, embrace you, welcome you, DROWN you in their own particular brand of BARBECUE SAUCE and then they drop you, no explanation offered!

Dot's humiliation seemed complete, but wasn't! New facts emerged during the abortion, of physiological, gynaecological, ILLOGICAL nature: Dot had two vaginas and two wombs.

In all the sickening concentration on CHILDREN (really a form of paedophilia) and CHILDHOOD (so beloved of psychoanalysts), all this IDEALISATION of children - their needs, their desires, their EQUIPMENT - what about US, what about the middle-aged? WE'RE the ones who are scared and alone.

Even God suffers the crunch

One of my favorite blog site, Dear God, a site for those who wanted to share their hopes and fears, suddenly stops posting questions and prayers asked to God. The reason- they do not have enough funds to run the site, hence, they are selling God now.

I am quite affected.

The site is literally an eye candy, a visual feast aside from the fact that it is also a prayer outlet! The pics posted there are dramatic and unique, to say the least. And the questions asked by its readers are sometimes distracting or disturbing- from commiting suicide to suggesting how God should run his affairs.

I am sad they are now selling it.

Disturbing but very artistic pics from that site: