cbsreview: BABEL

There is this story in Genesis wherein God was infuriated by the constant disaccord between laborers building the Tower of Babel, and in their refusal to speak in unison - or in one voice - He bestowed upon them the curse of miscommunication through a confusion of tongues. So goes the yarn about the birth of multiple languages.

And then there are the words of St. Augustine in Confessions from where Ludwig Wittgenstein jumpstarted his treatise Philosophical Investigations to develop his notion of the language game - or the intimate and pervasive links between language and forms of life:

"When they (my elders) named some object, and accordingly moved towards something, I saw this and I grasped that the thing was called by the sound they uttered when they meant to point it out. Their intention was shown by their bodily movements, as it were the natural language of all peoples: the expression of the face, the play of the eyes, the movement of other parts of the body, and the tone of voice which expresses our state of mind in seeking, having, rejecting, or avoiding something. Thus as I heard words repeatedly used in their proper places in various sentences, I gradually learn to understand what objects they signified; and after I had trained my mouth to form these signs, I used them to express my own desires."

As I went through this experience of watching Alejandro Inarritu's third installement of a trilogy that screams of the true influence of chance upon our lives, I began to trace it's connection to the history and mystery of languages. Easily, the story of the Tower of Babel was a direct representation. And with certain hints, Wittgenstein's notion proved influential, too. Language, as the film tells us, serves other purposes than the assertion of truth or falsity.

Like "Amorres Perros" and "21 Grams" before it, Babel contains three separate stories that are somehow intertwined by the presence of what I call life's 4 Cs: chance, circumstance, coincidence, and chain reaction. But unlike the first two, Babel's stories appear so real, so true, I am positive stuff like that may have been happening elsewhere, at any time. Truth is stranger than fiction, and more so in the case of this fiction that does not seem strange - as in preposterous - at all.

Here's the story, where the conflict from the ensuing circumstances interestingly started from an act of gratitude. A big gamer from Japan gives his rifle to his guide after a hunting expedition in Morocco, apparently because he was a very good guide. The Moroccan guide, in turn, sells the rifle to a guy who raises goats so they can get rid of the wolves preying on their livelihood. The guy hands over the rifle to his two sons-goat herders who are so young (probably 12 and 11) they always play prank with the rifle.

One day, while the boys herd the goats from atop the mountains, a tourist bus passes and the younger boy dares the other to shoot at the bus. He shoots, and misses. The younger boy takes aim himself, and being the better shot, hits the bus. (They take this casually, for lack of discernment and better judgment, and realizes the bus was hit only when it comes to a full stop).

The bullet whiffs through the bus window and hits a passenger (Cate Blanchett) who is on a tour of Morocco with her husband (Brad Pitt) as they try to preserve their dwindlingmarriage. The crime happens in the mountains, and due to lack of better technology and communication (language, see!) the information initially dispatched is that the shooting has terrorist connections.

Because of this incident, the couple's journey back home to the States (San Diego) is delayed, dismaying the Mexican nanny taking care of the couple's two small children because her own son is getting married and she could not find a substitute nanny for them for that day. She decides to do something which anybody in her position, under similar circumstances, will probably do: she brings the kids with her to Mexico.

On the way back to the States, while being inquested at the border, something happens to the nanny, the driver (her drunk nephew played by Gael Garcia Bernal), and the kids.

In Japan, the Japanese hunter is being questioned by the police himself in an attempt to clear the issue of the gun's ownership (to resolve whether or not it came from the black market, which is usually the source of terrorists' arms). On his own, he is fighting his demons, too, due to the death of his wife (this sub-story is actually a distraction), as well as the crisis affecting her daughter (deaf and dumb, again, a conflict in language!)

The film ends in Japan, in this scene involving the Japanese hunter, and it cleverly tells us in a way that this mystery of life affords for one more c: cycle.
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postscript: I remember an incident as a kid when I was a hardcore fanatic of Toyota basketball team. I was going to see its game against Crispa but for some reasons I did not make it to the coliseum. Toyota lost, and in a fit of anger I was telling my friends if I were there the outcome could have been reversed, that my presence could have changed the tide. They thought I was crazy and philosophized that I was too insignificant compared to the bigness of the event as to have caused the slightest change in circumstances that ultimately led to a Toyota defeat.

But then there is this "butterfly effect", reiterated by Rene Rodriguez in the Miami Herald, as the idea that "a butterfly flapping its wings in Brazil causes a tiny change in the atmosphere that could snowball into a tornado in Texas", which is tantamount to a scientific declaration that every act is significant and a potential source of a very significant event. At the coliseum, I could have stepped on the shoe of a fellow fan, whould would have swung at me but missed and instead hit the wife of Ato Co, who would have come to her rescue and refused to re-enter in the game, and in the process not being able to shoot that game-winning buzzer-beating shot.

This afternoon at Barnes and Noble, I chanced upon this book containing Ralph Waldo Emerson's essay, Compensation, and somehow I found a discourse I can quote to end this post:

"Every act rewards itself, or, in other words, integrates itself, in a twofold manner; first, in the thing, or, in real nature; and secondly, in the circusmtance, or, in apparent nature."

"The dice of God are always loaded."

GOING POSTAL

Nung nasa Pilipinas pa ako ansama ng reputasyon ng post office, pati ng postal workers (ewan ko lang ngayon). Pero sa Amerika kung saan andaming Pinoy na postal workers (may mga kamag-anak, frat brods, tsaka kakilala ako na station chiefs pa sa Southern Cal, Chicago, tsaka Philly), ang gaganda ng feedback sa kanila. Which means, ang corruption nasa sistema, wala sa tao.

Minsan naglalakad ako sa Lower Manhattan, winter nun at nag-i-isnow, nakasalubong ko ang isang postman na mukhang Pinoy at sagsag sa dalang kahon ng sulat. Syempre may deadline sila, tsaka rain or shine, hell or high water, kailangan mai-deliver nya yung sulat. Nagbakasakali akong maintindihan ni Postman, sabi ko, Tatag ng Pinoy talaga, ano? Sagot nya, Sinabi mo, sir.

Di miminsan akong nawalan ng sulat noon sa Pinas. Minsan nga yung padalang card ng ate from the States, naka-tape at plastic pa dahil obviously ay binuksan. Pero syempre, unfair na sabihin mong tiwali ang bawat postal worker sa Pinas dahil karamihan sa kanila, dakila ang ugali at walang bahid ang reputasyon sa trabaho.

Naalala ko tuloy yung parabula ni Doc Flavier sa Philippine Star tungkol dito, at medyo ganito ang storya.

May isang matanda (tawagin natin syang si Pedro) na hikahos sa pera ang sumulat sa Dyos para humingi ng tulong. Kailangan nya raw ng isang libo para sa kung anong mahalagang gastusin at wala syang alam na mapagkukunan nito. Inilakip nya ang sulat sa sobre, tas sinulat nya sa labas ng sobre: To God In Heaven.

Nakita ng mga postal workers ang sulat at di nila malaan ang gagawin (syempre pa, alang selyo ang sulat. Una na, wala pera yung matanda.)
Nagpasya ang postmaster na buksan na lang ang sulat at alamin ang nilalaman nito. Nahabag sila sa matanda pagkabasa sa sulat, at doon at noon mismo nagpasya silang mag ambag-ambag para maipadala kay Pedro. Umabot sa 900.00 pesos ang kanilang nalikom at masaya silang inilakip ang pera sa sobre, at sa labas ng sobre isinulat nila: To Pedro, From God in Heaven.

Laking tuwa ni Pedro nung matanggap nya ang sulat. Binuksan nya ito, lumuwa ang mata ng makita ang pera, at makaraan ang ilang saglit ay gumawa ulit ng liham.

Kunabukasan, nakakita na naman ang mga trabahador sa Post Office ng sulat na addressed sa God in Heaven, at syempre pa ulit, binuksan nila ang sobre. Tumambad sa kanila ang sulat ni Pedro:

Dear God In Heaven,

Marami pong salamat sa padala nyong pera at lubos akong natutuwa sa pag-aalala nyo sa akin. Ang isang bagay na masasabi ko, sa susunod na maiisipan ninyong magpadala ng pera ulit ay idirekta nyo na lang sa akin at wag nyo nang padaanin pa sa koreo. Puro Hudas ang mga tao doon at alam nyo bang ninenok pa nila ang isangdaan dun sa padala nyo sa akin po.

Nagmamahal,
Pedro

EPIKWENTO

1. Dapat siguro tawagin ang Florida na The Confused State kasi medyo lito, o hilo (ano ka?), kapag panahon o klima ang pag-uusapan. Gaya nung Lunes ng gabi, mas malamig pa sa Tampa kesa sa North Dakota, tas kahapon nag-snow sa Orlando. 10 years ago lumamig maigi sa Central at North Florida kaya nag-frost ang mga orchards at nangamatay sa ginaw ang mga nagsasunbathing na dalandan (buti na lang ang mga dalaginding ay may binti at paa).

2. Mataas ang araw habang tina-type ko ito pero ubod ng ginaw. Nasa 50 degrees F. Kahapon nga ng umaga nung nagbibihis ako para pumasok, lintek, yung underwear na galing sa drawer ubod ng lamig kaya nung sinuot ko, wahaw, sabi ni Jonas, Bossing jinijinaw ako. Ginawa ko e pinlatsa ko pa si Calvin (as in Calvin Klein) at ayun, kalmado sa sarap ang buong populasyon, para silang naka-heater. Di gaya ko kasi may allergy ako sa amoy ng heater, tsaka wala naman akong fireplace.

3. Thansgiving Day ngayon. Sa Miami Herald kahapon may nabasa akong article tungkol sa isang grade school teacher na kakaiba ang approach ng pagtuturo sa mga bata tungkol sa First Thanksgiving. Taon-taon, nagdadala ang mga bata (in almost all grade schools, I suppose) ng mga papel-de-kolor, gunting, glue, at kung anu-ano pa para gumawa ng mga buntings o costume ng Native Americans at Pilgrims. Ginawa nung isang teacher sa Long Beach, Ca, pinagkukuha nya yung mga gamit ng mga bata tas sabi nya e sa kanya raw yung mga gamit kasi nadiskubre nya. Ang reaksyon ng mga bata ang inaasahan nya: Nagalit sila. Nilagay ng guro ang asal nya sa konteksto ng "tunay" na nangyari sa sinasabing First Thanksgiving.

4. Pero anuman ang nangyari noon ay kakain pa rin ako ng pabo, magpupugay, at magpapasalamat. Napakaraming dapat ipagpasalamat. Isa na ay ang pananatili ng memorya upang di makalimot.

5. Pagpapasalamat din dahil kahit papaano, kahit mahirap ang buhay, kahit di ako mayaman, nakakabili pa rin ako ng libro at kaya ko pa rin silang basahin dahil malinaw pa rin ang utak ko (kahit malabo na ang mga mata ko, kung gay-on, salamat din sa salamin.)

6. Gaya nung Sabado sa Miami Book Fair, naalala ko tuloy nung minsan napadaan ako sa harap ng Library of Congress sa DC, pakiramdam ko parang gusto kong mag-antanda. At tuwing papasok ako sa NY Public Library, halos kapareho ng kabanalan ng simbahan ang sumasayad sa dibdib ko; nagiging kalmado ako. (Adik! Adik!)

7. Sayang nga nung nagdaang Linggo ng bookfair. Naglecture si Frank McCourt ng Tuesday, tas si Edward P. Jones ng Wednesday ata, tas si Richard Ford ng sumunod na araw. May libro ako nilang tatlo (Angela's Ashes; The Known World; Independence Day - respectively, na pawang nanalo ng Pulitzer Prize) pero iba din sana na mapakinggan ko ang bago nilang saloobin, at ng mahingan na rin ng payo para sa kaganapan ng aking writing objective as a transcendental solution.

8. Nung Sabado na naroon ako, ang lecturers (bukod kay Senator Obama na napanood ko) ay sina Nora Ephron ng Sleepless in Seattle fame, Robert Olen Butler, John Berendt, ang aking paboritong translator na si Edith Grossman at maraming-marami pa. Tas tambay-tambay lang ako at nakipag-kulitan sa mga tao. Nagtagal nga ako dun sa booth ng McSweeney's kasi angkukulit nung mga kabataang booksellers, mga alagad ni Dave Eggers na taga-San Francisco, tas sinipat-sipat ko yung bagong libro at 1st edition ni Eggers na What is a what.

9. Tas sa karamihan ng mga tao, may naglalakad na mga naka-costume. Uy, si Juliet (ng Romeo and)! Ayun, si Macbeth ba yun? Tas may isang dalaginding na parang maharot. Teka lang, si Lolita ata ito (fire of my loins ka pa jan!), yumpala, tunay na karakter at hindi fictional yung bata. Ang nakakatuwa, habang naglalakad sila, daldal sila ng daldal at kung pakikinggan nyong mabuti, ang sinasabi nila ay linya nila sa libro. Cute.

10. Tas sa isang booth naman habang nagmimiron-miron ako, yung ale sa tabi ko tipong nagka-interes sya sa libro.. Binigay nya ang byad dun sa tindero, tas sabi ng tindero, Would you like me to sign this? Nagulat yung babae, tas tiningnan nya yung back cover, OMG! sigaw nya, You're the author! You're the author!

11. Sa dinner table mamya, bukod sa nabanggit kong ipagpapasalamat, idadagdag ko na rin kayong mga kaibigan ko dito, baguhan man o beterano, sa dahilang ang inyong patuloy na pagbisita at pagkumento ang syang nagbibigay sigla sa aking patuloy na pagsusulat. Salamat po.

LOVE, LIFE, TIME, POLITICS, HISTORY and other issues in this purgatory of cliche'

Time flies whether you're having fun or not. If you're bored to death due to several activity of nothingness, time still flies and possibly over the cuckoo's nest.

Am I having fun? Do I find what I do, say, blogging, fun?

bwehehe! mwehehe! har har de har!

I think I am. Therefore.

It was a year ago when I went to the Miami International Book Fair and blogged about it. It really seemed like only 7 or 8 months ago and when I saw those banners and posters along US 1 announcing the event, I could not believe it. It seems like my life is just a video game playing before my eyes, where the past is right there, and then the present is right...here...opps, that's the past already, it's the one here...nope again...

Here's a definition of bride (by I forgot whom, I'll mention your name as soon as I recall): somebody who has a bright future behind her.

And so yesterday I went to Miami Dade College Wolfson Campus in downtown Miami for the bookfair - the largest literary event in the nation - to hunt for books that I will have to give away to friends and relatives for the holidays (consequently dictating them to read, which, ironic to my intention, sometimes makes them asiwa, like this acquaintance Y to whom I bequeathed Robert Musil's The Man Without Qualities which she did not care for - as I realized later on that her greatest book ever was Tuesdays With Moron, I mean, Morrie.)

Truly, if she was asiwa, I am hanga. I should instead have given her this book from a Spanglish Bookseller entitled Tell Me A Cuento.

I was at the campus at 10:00 am, gasping for breath after being overwhelmed by thousands and thousands of titles screaming for attention. Within an hour of searching, scanning, speed-reading and smelling, I already picked up and paid for the following books (6) and literary journals (3):

The Crystal Frontier - Carlos Fuentes
The Collected Stories of Eudora Welty
Bono, His Life, Music and Passions - Laura Jackson
Iceland's Bell - Halldor Laxness
Stranger Shores, Literary Essays - J.M. Coetzee
Audubon Guide to the National Wildlife Refuges (Southeast) - D. Gove
SubTropics - Spring/Summer 2006 Issue
Knock - Issue Three One
Backwards City Review - Fall 2006 Issue

Then I went to Chrysler Lane to line up for tickets to Sen. Obama Barack's 6 pm lecture and was surprised to see hundreds of people lining up already, mostly white, mostly senior citizens. I found my spot, stood my ground, put my bag (a giveaway Comcast tote) down, pulled Coetzee's book, and began to read his first essay What Is a Classic?

Along the way of my reading the chapter, I was building up an argument against Coetzee's open q if Bach's music could be categorized as a classic (or an undying music) when, as he noted, it was obscure during his time and came to fame only via Mandelssohn's direction of St. Matthew Passion in Berlin in 1829.

When I brought my head up and looked behind me, I was surprised anew by the hundreds and hundreds of people lined up, all happening in 10 minutes after I took my spot. I was thinking, this guy Obama is a phenom, one that possibly Coetzee(?) can analyze and explain to us who were standing there in line, unmoving, hungry and shaking, but never complaining because nobody ever forced us to stand there in the first place - except by a vision that could be rewarding if we ever get to see this guy speak in person.
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At 7 pm, as I was walking the three blocks away from the Gusman Center for the Performing Arts to the spot where I parked my car, carrying the tote bag which by then became heavier with the addition of Sen. Obama's hardbound copy of The Audacity of Hope (autographed), I was thinking if I just witnessed history being made in the previous one hour for the final obliteration of the color barrier, courtesy of this man who claimed that the highest office in any democratic government should be the Office of Citizen, by his election as the first black President of the United States of America.

There is one more thing worth looking forward to in the future.

NGASAB, NGUYA

Mahilig akong kumain + hindi ako pihikan = kahit ano kakainin ko. Pag sinabihan ako ng isang taong mapagkakatiwalaan ang salita na may bagong pag-aaral ukol sa nutrisyong dulot ng poste ng Meralco, hindi ako mag-aatubiling sumubok na lafangin ang itim na poste kahit pa sabihing may tsansang makoryente ako. Nung kabataan ko at nag-iinom kami sa bakuran ni Pareng Sammy kasama nina Toni Burat-burat Villanueva at ng kumpare nyang may-ari ng isang punerarya, wala kaming pulutan. Sabi nung kumpare na may-ari ng punerarya (nakalmutan ko pangalan netong gagong to), Dre, nakikita nyo ba yung mala-damong tumutubo na yun, nakakain yun!

At dahil ako si cbs na uto(t)uto(t), binunot ko ang mala-damong ligaw na pananim at, gaya ng utos ng mga katropa kong nakatatanda, hinugasan ko sya ng maigi, ginayat, at binudburan ng asin. (Emphasized nila ang "hugasang maigi" dahil natitiyak nilang once upon a previous lashingan time e may ungas na umihi sa nasabing halamanan.)

Ansarap ng ligaw na damo. Kung di ako nagkakamali e nakatatlong servings pa kami dahil ginamas ko na ng tuluyan ang damo at kahit pa sabihing nagsuspetsa akong may napasamang makahiya dun sa huling serving ko.

Dahil sa katakawan ko, nahilig din akong magluto. Specialty ko ang noodles at soup, Oriental man o Occidental, at mahilig akong mag-experiment sa spices at herbs. Name a spice, I have it. Name an herb, I have it.

Nung isang araw nagpunta kami sa isang Thai restaurant para icelebrate yung birthday ni Bunso. Dyaske, natorete ako dun sa Basil Duck. Ang ginawa ba naman ng chef e pina-crisp nya yung duck saka nilaputan (lintek!) ng basil syrup. Ansarap, quack-quack talaga sa sarap. Tas nilamutak ko maigi yung beef satay, at yung frog legs, kokak talaga sa lutong. At syempre naman, da best ang crispy snapper, Buddhist delight, at pad thai.

Bukod sa Thai, hilig ko din ang Vietnamese (magaling akong magluto ng Pho Ga, kasi daw, daw lang, huh, ako daw ay Pho Gi), Japanese, at Balinese dishes. Di ako takot sumubok ng foreign-looking food, bukod pa sa excited ako sa variety ng aking intake, dahil ga, wow, iba-ibang culture ang nasa tyan ko. Asar nga ako nung minsang nagpunta ako ng DC, di ako nagkaron ng chance na kumain sa isang Ethiopian restaurant dahil yung mga kasama ko puro Legal Seafood ang bukambibig.

Dito sa complex namin, walking distance lang ako sa Chinese, Argentinian, Japanese, Lebanese, Cuban, at Texan restaurants kaya naman United Nations pirmi ang lamutaktakin ko.

Two weeks ago naman, kumain kami ni Inang sa isang may-kalayuang Pinoy restaurant. Ginisang munggo, daing na bangus, paksiw na bangus, pinakbet. Sarap. Ang kaso, iba talaga pag sa Pilipinas ka kumain ng pagkaing Pinoy kasi, di sya gaya nung mga tindang daing na bangus dito, may sore eyes na, tas yung talbos ng sili sa tinola e puro frozen na, tas yung pusit e puting puti na (sinabon pa yata dun sa fish market). Kaya nga malimit akong mag-fantasy na pag-uwi ko ng Pilipinas (kung saka-sakali e makikita ko ulit sya after more than 10 years at maiimbitahan akong lumafang, halimbawa, e kina Tito Rolly o kaya kina Tita Gwen Bautista ^_^, o kina Cha, o Belle, maghahanda ako ng menu na kelangan merong dinaing na bangus na bagong hango sa palaisdaan at binabad sa sukang maraming bawang at binudburan ng asin at paminta, tas ay deep fried na crunchy talaga sa lutong...

Maisulat nga itong listahan, saka-sakali:

Almusal:
Sinangag, daing na bangus, ginayat na kamatis at sibuyas Tagalog, achara, pritong itlog (isa lang, at minsan lang) ng native na manok.

Tanghalian:
Tinolang native na manok, adobong pusit, alimasag, steamed kitang. Manggang hilaw at bagoong.

Meryenda:
Pansit bihon with puso ng saging.

Hapunan:
Kare-kare, kilawing papaya, pritong asohos. Manggang hinog.

Toma:
San Miguel Beer.

Pulutan:
Sisig at bopis na maanghang, sangag na tuyong dilis.

O, ano pa? Manus mortariumque bene lavato!

MOVING OUT

Kakauwi ko lang ng bahay galing Dolphins game. Buti naman at nanalo ang tropa kaya "the world's biggest party" ang Dolphins stadium nung iwan namin - di gaya nung 3 weeks ago na "world's biggest funeral" ang tinamaan ng magaling. Mahiyang punebre talaga ang stadium pag natatalo ang Miami sa home freakin games.

Dati rati dumadating kami ng stadium na nag-uumpisa na ang laro. Pero kanina, 2 1/2 hours before the game andun na kami kaya pinagtripan namin ni utol yung mga nagte-tailback party. Sa parking lot, yung mga pick-up trucks ng fans e nagiging instant barbekyuhan; ibaba nila ang tailgate ng truck, tapos andun na nila ilalatag ang mga kalan-kalan, tas magtatayo sila ng tent.

Iba-iba ang trip ng mga tao habang nag-iihaw ihaw sila ng hamburgers, sausages, steaks at mga mais: may mga naglalaro ng domino (mga Cubans at Hispanics), may nagpo-poker (mga sassy), may nagbabackgammon (mga sosi), may nagchichismisan (mga sissy) at may nagbabatuhan ng football. Sabi ko nga kay utol, magpauso kaya ang mga Pinoy dito at Pilipino theme ang tailgate nila. Lintek siguro, ilalabas ang kalan-kalang kanin, tas may sinigang tsaka kare-kare, hayup, tas sisigaw ka, O sino pa gusto ng kaniiin, tas may sasagot, Ako ako penge pang hap rice plisss, patis, patis, Wala bang kamatis na ginayat-gayat dyan, plis!!! Tas mag-iihaw ka ng tuyo, ha-ha-hayup siguro, ambantot ng hanging amihan, panakbuhan ang mga tao, tas sisigaw ka, Touchdown!

Nag-settle kami sa upuan namin eksaktong alas-dose (1 hr before the game), tas nakahilera na yung mga beer namin para kunyari siga kami, angkaso lang napapaligiran kami ng Kansas City fans, buti na lang at ang gaganda nung mga dalaginding (sabi nila pinakamagaganda na daw ang taga-Missouri; naniniwala na ata ako) kaya nung uminit maigi parang gusto kong himatayin baka sakali bigyan ako ng cpr nung isang miss.

Bandang alas-dos, nasa 2nd quarter pa lang, lasing na ako, sabi ko sa utol ko, Bat sobra atang dami ng players sa field, sabi nya, Ugok, doble lang ang tingin mo; nung tinakpan ko ang isang mata ko, Oo naman pala, tama lang sa bilang.

So, ganun na nga, nanalo sila 13-10, thriller pa anya, kaya mejo moving out na ang mga hitad sa cellar.

Ako naman e eto, nag-kakalkal ng balat na mala-uling. Hapdi, hapdi, kamot, kamot.

MOVING ON

May ticket ako ngayon sa 1:00 pm Miami Dolphins-Kansas City Chiefs footbal game. Prime Section. A-ha-ha, ang gara Edgardo, may nagbigay sa akin ng dalawang tickets na halos $90.00 per tix, may kasamang parking pass, tas ang kumag bumunot pa ng $20.00 at sabi, Here, the first four beers are on me. Jaynako, what is going on with this world.

Three weeks ago may nagbigay din ng 2 tickets, sa Dolphins-Green Bay Fa, I mean, Packers naman, pero nga lang andun kami sa Fish Tank section na paduguan ng ilong. Yosme, sa sobtrang taas nga ng kinauupuan e napaka-lapit namin sa araw. Kung nasa baba-baba lang kami e hindi sana gaanong nasunog ang balat kong pinaglihi sa kwero.

Sinama ko sa Packers game ang frat brod kong si Chewbacca na nakatira malapit sa Stadium. Bihira na kami magkita ni Chewbacca kasi wala syang ibang ginawa kundi ang magpayaman, which means salungat kami ng hilig. Ewan ko ba, bata pa ako andami ko ng hilig gaya ng, uhrm, gurls at libro, pero sa kung anong dahilan e di na-include dun ang pera. Kaya nga yung mga inaanak ko sa Pinas na umabot ata sa 30 e wala akong maibigay kundi ang kamay kong pandampi sa kanilang malalapad na noo. Minsan nga yung Inaanak kong si Mokong, pagkamano e iniladlad yung palad, e di tinapik ko ng 'give me five' na tapik, tas nung ako naman ang nagpapa-'give me five', hinila na sya ng tatay nyang nakaramdam na walang mahihita sa aking walang lamang bulsa ang anak nya.

E di ayun, mapapabili mo ba ako ng ticket sa Dolphins game e parking pass pa lang $20.00 na! Haynako, e sweldo ko na sa isang araw yan (sa Pinas). Buti na lang me magagandang loob (at labas) na nagbibigay sa inyong pobreng lingkod ng libreng ticket para makapanood ng footbal game, gaya ng bigay ni Doktor J 4 years ago na ubod ng baba ng section, ayus, nasa harap ko si Andy Garcia. May nag-akala sigurong magkamag-anak kami, kasi kamukha ko si Bino Garcia.

Ewan ko na lang ngayon kung sinong celeb ang makakatabi ko (bukod sa utol kong kumag na celebrity kasi nagcelebrate sya ng birthday kamakaylan lang). Ano kaya't makatabi ko si Naneninonu, o si Nana Nini na anonymous celebrities dito sa blog. Ayus. Or in their word, Ayuz.

O sige po, maga move on na ako, for another place, another series. Go Fins!

UNWEAKENED WEEKEND (happy na, weekend pa!)

1. I started feeling weekend-happy again after doing the gym every night since Monday. When the abs guru said, A strong tummy means a strong back, I knew then I have to rekindle my love affair with the treadmill, the weights, the statio bike, and those gadgets with their unrelenting chuva of push and pull. And tadaaa, after just three nights of sweat I feel the backache slowly backing off, where only a week ago the back was going totally bako.

2. Nung isang Linggo, matapos kong ikarga sa trunk ang aking for- the-week's groceries at pinaaatras ko na ang kotse, nasulyapan ko na may paatras ding kotse na deretso ang tumbok sa akin, isang nangingintab na puting topdown Mercedes series ewan ko. Nagpreno ako dahil tipong nauna naman syang umatras, at inacknowledged naman ng driver ang pagbigay ko sa kanya ng right-of-way sa pamamagitan ng pagtaas ng kamay a la Pope John Paul II kaway-kaway. Si Tim Hardaway ang magiting na driver, kaya naisip ko na kahit siguro itinuloy ko ang pag-atras e di ko rin sya mababangga dahil magpapagewang-gewang lang sya gaya ng ginagawa nya nung kanyang dribbling days of yore.

3. Years ago, another weekend, my brother and I went to the Riviera Cinema to watch some movie - I forgot which - though I remembered sitting next to a huge guy who bawled and guffawed so loud and infectious that I also laughed at certain scenes which I didn't even find funny at all. I thought I knew the laughter very well but only after the lights went back on that I was able to match it with the huge silhouette's: it was former Detroit Pistons player, John Salley, who now harks his famous laughter with Charlie Rose at the great sports show The Best Damn Sports Show, Period.

4. Sinamahan ko si Inang sa ospital nung isang Sabado para sa kanyang scheduled MRI (bad back; like mother like son!) at nahalina ako sa mabait at charming na African-American receptionist, kaya napaghulo kong angkop lang yung titulo nya na nakasaad sa tag sa ibabaw ng receptionist's counter: Director of First Impressions.

5. Early Saturday morning, around 7:30, I was at the nearby Starbucks and being awakened from my Friday night stupor by a grande cup of Colombian coffee as well as by the stunning narrative of Orham Pamuk in Snow - about a left-leaning poet named Ka who went back home in Kars, Turkey after years of exile in order to find an old flame (but somehow got caught in a web of issues and events: a rash of suicides by teenaged schoolgirls; a local election where a mayoral candidate was the ex-husband of the old flame; a witnessed assassination). The cushion of my chair was so comfortable, like a lazyboy's, and somehow tried to put me back to sleep. But both coffee/book, and chair, were no match to the group of students seated on a table across from me who talked so loud and with plenty of "like" in between words that I can't help but to pay unwanted attention to their conversation. One guy stood up. He wore a shirt that says "Define Girfriend" and I was a bit curious as to what gives. I wanted to check his back and find a catch, or even ask him point blank, Sige nga, define it for me?, but eventually thought the better move would be to check out the other tables for a more engaging moment of eavesdropping.

6. Magpapaka-nosey ka na rin lang, mamili ka na ng maganda-gandang subject. Dito ko naalala yung kwentong "Nina" sa libro ni Prof. Dennis Andrew Aguinaldo na "Shift of Eyes and Other Stories" kung saan inintegrate ni propesor yung isang post sa kanyang Tekstong Bopis blog (entitled Alone, In A Cafe) para ibigay ang isang voyueristic experience ng isang bagong graduate sa isang cafeteria: kalahok ang stanzas ng isang tula ni Jan Elburg, nilibot ni Nina ang mata nya sa paligid ng kapihan at sabay bigay ng opinyon sa kanyang hinuha, nagpaparang eksena sa isang pelikula ni Brian de Palma ang feel ng istorya. Ganung-ganun ang naranasan ko sa Starbucks nung umagang yun, para akong variation ni Nina, si Nino (or for whom, Ka Nino).

7. A table away from the students were four middleaged Caucasians, 2 men, 2 women, although I can tell one of the men was Latin American, and the other, Eatern European (the first from the outward appearance, the other from the accent). That early morning, dear lord!, they were talking politics, but there was something about their hushed tones that made me feel very interested. I covered my face with the book as if I was a legally blind reader (a covert scheme) and listened intently. They were talking about the forthcoming elections, and one of them, a woman, predicted a sweeping victory for the Democrats in both Houses. The other woman, interestingly, concurred, and noted that the trend in Latin American politics to veer towards the left was a good barometer and forecaster of things to come in these American elections.

8. Sabi ko sa sarili ko, ayus, pre, umagang-umaga, Sabadung-sabado, politiko. Tapos napabalikwas ang utak ko dun sa binabasa ko. Poet. Left-leaning. Ka. Elections. Old Flame.

9. Very well then, sige nga, define girlfriend?

ENLIGHTENED WEEKEND (continuar, noir)

1. Sa bayan ko sa Pilipinas nung araw, meron kaming tinatawag na Happy Sunday. Kapag nasa tambayan kami (tindahan ni Lonlon) nina Pongie, Topits at iba pang kampon ng buraot kapag araw ng Linggo, nag-iinuman kami. Meron din kaming tinatawag na Happy Saturday kung saan pag araw ng Sabado e nag-iinuman kami, tas meron ding Happy Monday, Happy Tuesday et. al, all the way to Happy Friday, which for sure alam nyo na ang pinagiging masaya namin: we are doing the best for Philippine economy by consuming the all important San Miguel beer.

2. Dahil sa walang katapusang inuman lalo na pag weekend, naging acidic ako. Kapag gigising ako sa umaga at nasayaran ng sipilyo ang bibig ko, o kaya e nabuhusan ng tubig ang likod ko sa pagligo, duwal na ako ng duwal kahit di naman ako buntis. Minsan nga nasa banyo ako at panay ang duwal, yumpala e nagdatingan na ang kapatid ko tsaka mga bubwit nya. Paglabas ko ng banyo, yung dalawang bubwit (mga 2 at 3 taon ata sila nun) andun sila nakaharap sa pinto ng banyo at duwal din ng duwal. Lintek talaga ang aking power of suggestion.

3. There goes the rub(bing alcohol). Sa Pinas, inuman lang ang pinaka eskapo namin sa mainit na reyalidad dahil wala naman kaming ibang magawa bukod sa karumal dumal na sabong. Walang bookstore dun, o kaya e library. Ang pinakamalapit na mall e dalawang oras na lakbayin sa trapik, at pag nagpunta ka dun, kargo mo ang konsyensya ng buong tropa. Pwedeng magbasketbol, kaso, nasubukan mo na bang magbasketbol ng 5 oras sa arawan?

4. Kaya nga medyo culture shock din nung napadpad ako dito na parang langaw dahil sanglibo ang pwedeng gawin sa isang araw, iba-iba bawat araw, lalo na pag weekeends. Gaya nung Linggo, ginanap sa Shops at Sunset Place sa South Miami ang annual Miami Hunt na brainchild ng Miami genius na si Dave Barry. Mahigit na sampung taon na ata ginagawa itong hunt na ito, at usually e sa downtown ang venue, pero biglang iniba ang location siguro para lalong palawakin ang local market. Pero grabe, dinadayo ang hunt na ito ng mga taong galing sa ibat ibang states, di lang para makamtan ang prize na trip to Mexico kundi na rin para ma-experience ang isang unforgettable weekend.

5. May pagka-wicked ang hunt (palagay ko itong Miami Hunt ang naka-impluwensya sa bagong reality show na treasure hunt). Sa ibat ibang parte sa paligid ng Shops, may mga naka-costume na namimigay ng mga polyeto kung san mo makikita ang ibat ibang pagkukuhanan mo ng clues. Pag nakompleto mo na ang mga clues, pagdudugtung-dugtungin mo sila para mabuo mo ang puzzle. Eto ang sample ng unang clue: Sa isang couture shop, may 5 mannequins sa show window (isang babae at 4 na lalaking mannequins). Ang suot nila, respectively, ay pangkasal na may train, vest, tie, t-shirt (or simply, t), at yung panghuling lalaking mannequin ay naka damit pambabae.

6. Pag pinagsama-sama mo ang mga suot ng apat, magigi silang: train, vest, tie, t - na kapag inadjust adjust mo lang e magiging transvestite, which will point you to the man mannequin wearing a woman's dress. Ang presyo ng damit na yun ng transvestite mannequin ang unang clue. Clue nyo?

Yun lang. Boring, ne?
e22loi