STILL, LIFE

I. On December 27, 2006 two men jumped off to their deaths in the freezing waters of the Hudson River.

There is something about the cold weather that provides a pathological explanation to a man's desire to end his life in his own way and time - a certain chemical imbalance caused by the cold air weighing heavily on his fragile soul. A local newspaper article put further blame on the stress that the holiday season put so much on people in their yearning to purchase the perfect gift or to cook the perfect meal. (Unacceptable as it may seem, a lot of people die in all their efforts to please.)

One of these deaths particularly concerned me, the one involving a priest - a person trained to live in a world of loneliness and isolation. If depression can catch a trained spiritual counselor off-guard, what are we, ordinary mortals, expected of than to hold on to life's railings a little more tightly.

II. Man Pointing is a bronze sculpture by the Swiss artist Alberto Giacometti (now on permanent display at the Museum of Modern Art, or MoMA, in 53rd Street between 5th and 6th Avenues in Manhattan) - a very thin and erect figure of a man whose outstretched right arm points to something, with the left arm curved into a gesture that is seemingly an invite to whatever is being pointed at.

The French philosopher Jean-Paul Sartre described the sculpture as "halfway between nothingness and being" due to the palpable slimness and outrageous elongation the figure appears to be, and yet, even from a distance, the viewer can easily be stunned by the imposing presence the sculpture makes by the manner in which it dominates its space.

Seeing this sculpture on December 28th, I begun to think of the boundary described by Sartre, and in effect made my own: the figure was halfway between death and rebirth. The pointing man, to me, is that of a dead man (a figure not dissimilar to the dead boy in Bruce Holland Rogers' short story Dead Boy At Your Window) in a state of resurrection.

III. Follow the logic: If art imitates life, and this is a lonely life, does that make art generally lonely?

Ron Mueck's sculptures currently on display at the Brooklyn Museum of Art seem to affirm that. His ultra-realistic figures of men, women, and babies (cast in resin, I think) not only capture the "realness" of flesh, but in further artistic triumph caught the many moods of man in various stages of alienation. There was a figure of a new born baby, about half a foot long, hanging on a massive white wall that gives the impression of a crucified baby. And then there is a figure of a bearded man that is almost five times the size of an average American male, sitting on a chair, stark naked, but with a forlorn outlook that seemed ironic based on his size (he towered above the viewers and yet he seemed to be under their command) - which, once more, displays man's loneliness due to his failure to fit in.

IV. In his essay Against Joie de Vivre, Philip Lopate says he is attracted to depressed people because they seem to know something he does not.



**photo courtesy of MoMA.org

NY, Day 6

1. wehehe, kay ganda ng ating musika at umagaaaa...para akong si hajji, si hajji baba. Andito pa rin ako sa den, nakadungaw sa bintana, overlooking the woods na hindi ko alam kung saan patungo, nadidinig ko ang ugong ng amtrak train na dumadaan, nakita ko yung isang squirrel na nagtatatakbo at tipong na-confuse dahil akala nya siguro spring na. antaas ng araw at hindi gloomy ang kabayanan.

2. sa aking webmaster, pwede po bang pakipaltan ang template ko. josme, tanggal na lahat ang mga dahon ng punong nililiyag e nagsasa-autumn pa rin tong blog theme. gusto ko po yung winter theme, kung maaari yung may nagiisnow-boarding.

3. sa mga nakaranas magsnow-board, alam nyo siguro kung gaano kahirap ang sport na itow. ala panama ang skiing. first time kong magsnow-board sa stirling forest 20 beses siguro akong lumagapak, pwet down. parang akong myembro ng jackass. and take note, andun pa ako sa bunny hill ng lagay na yun. (tawanan yung mga bata, akala nila nagpapakenkoy lang aku, huhuhu).

4. hanggang ngayon tine-trace ko pa din yung movements ko nung christmas party para malaan ko kung may kagaguhan akong nagawa. ang natatandaan ko, nagpi-piano yung batang koreano tas nung tinanong nya ako kung anong kanta ang gusto kong kantahin (alangan namang tulain, but on second thought, akma siguro yun sa kaso ko). sabi ko, hmmm, kaya mo ba ang tiny dancer? sure, sabi nya, sabay tipa sa piano na pagkalintek-lintek sa galing. E di ako kanta, kanta, para akong si elton john puruntong, at nung natapos, napansin ko na wala palang nakikinig, andun lahat sila sa dining room at nagkakainan dahil yun naman talaga ang ipinunta nila dun, di ba?

5. tas nun bumalik na ako sa panonood ng miami dolphins, new york jets football game. tas nun, foom, paggising ko, narinig ko yung dalawang naghihilik in all their unconscious mayhem.

6. pupunta na lang ako ngayon ng mall kasi gusto kong panoorin yung the good shepherd. sa lincoln center naman palabas yung letters from iwo jima, bale ito yung accompanying film sa flag of our fathers, at idinirehe din ni clint eastwood. bale ito namang iwo jima ang batay sa paningin ng hapon.

7. tinatapos ko yung librong my name is red. yung snow ng author (orhan pamuk) ang aking best book read in 2006, pero malamang mas gusto ko itong red. grabe ang depth of vision nya, ang lawak ng creative range. bawat chapter nung red iba ang narrator. wagi.

8. nabalitaan ko yung kay titorolls, tsaka yung sa pamangkin ni mec. may God be with them, and more so with us.

9. happy new year po sa lahat, sa nawalan at nagkaroon, may peace be in our hearts.

NY, Day 5

Warning: this entry is disgusting.

Ahehe, halata bang wala akong magawa dito. Sa totoo lang, andaming pwedeng gawin. Pwede kong ligpitin yung mga gamit kong nakakalat dito sa den kung san ako temporarily naka-squatter. Yung brief ko nga, josme, nasa ibabaw ng fax machine. Kaso ang sakit ng katawan ko ne, nasobrahan pa ako ng toma ng wuwu (tama ba spelling?) yung pinaghalong vodka, peach schnapp, tsaka cranberry juice, isang galon ata ang nainom ko kagabi habang nagpapa-cute sa mga bwisita, ayos, madaling araw nagising ako, andun ako sa attic tas may dalawang ungas na nagpapaligsahan sa paghihilik. Di ko alam kung paano ako napunta ng attic, tsaka di ko matandaan kung anong oras ako nawalan ng ulirat, at lalong di ko alam kung sino yung mga naghihilik na myembro ata ng chamber orchestra dahil synchronized pa ang kanilang pag ngork-ngork. Nagising ako kasi naramdaman kong magbabaligtad ang sikmura ko kaya takbo ako pababa sa pinakamalapit na banyo, di ko na nagawang buksan ang ilaw pero sa awa ng panahon e timing na timing dahil kung nagkataong may umeetat sa kubeta ay nasukahan ko sana sya sa mukha. Pagkasuka ko syempre binuksan ko yung ilaw at ineksamin ko kung ano yung isinuka ko, aha! Walang dudang relyenong manok yun, tas yung lulutang-lutang sa may gilid e tipong aftermath ng biko. Iba-ibang kulay ne, tipong gross talaga sha, parang yung ibinuga ni Linda Blair dun sa Exorcist.

Tas shempre dahil baka katayin ako ng ate ko sa sobrang sangsang ng amoy na iniwan ko sa kubetat nya (walang kasing exhaust, hanubayan) katakut-takot na pagsasabon ang ginawa ko. Syempre ambantot din ng bibig ko, amoy suka as in vinegar - kaya sha siguro tinawag na suka dahil amoy vinegar - kaso ala namang mouthwash sa banyo, hanubayan ulet, kaya sinabon ko na lang yung bibig ko. Kung nagkataon nga na may pumasok ng banyo, iisipin nya e nalason ako dahil bumubula ang bibig ko.

Sa lahat ng kapatid ko, peborit ko tong ate ko dito sa New York. Yung ate ko sa Florida, pag andun ka sa bahay nya at kakain kayo, may name tag pa ang pwesto sa hapag, langya, grabe ang method ng kanyang madness, tas kung dun ka matutulog, maaga pa gigisingin ka nya, Everybody, Up, Up, rise and shine, the day is gorgeous, what are you doing inside...Kaya yung nagbabakasyon sa Florida at titigil sa bahay nya, mas pagod pa daw sila coming from vacation than going to. Kasi ga, may itinerary si Ate Florida sa kanila, whether they like it or not, mula umaga hanggang gabi.

Samantalang itong si Ate NY, walang method, puro madness lang meron sha. Walang oras ng pagkain o pagtulog. Kung sakali nga na matulog ka ng tatlong araw, wala syang pakialam basta ba wag ka lang maglalakad ng tulog at siguradong gigisingin ka nya. Kung nagugutom ka, magluto ka o magbungkal kaya ng ref na sangkatutak ang nakaimbak na pagkain, pero kwidaw kalahati ata dun e expired na. Minsan hinahanap ng bayaw ko yung pancit molo sa lalagyang plastic, tanong nung pamangkin kong 12 anyos at bunso nila, Why?, sagot ni bayaw, I'll have to throw it away, tanong ni bunso, Why? Because that's from 3 weeks ago, sagot ni bayaw, Too late, sabi ni bunso, I ate it already.

Kaya eto ako ngayon sa panlimang araw dito sa NY. Maryosep, parang kailan lang ako lumipad patungo dito, pangliumang araw na nalustay na agad.

Sa mga kakilala ko, alam nyo siguro na kaya di ako nakatira dito sa NY kasi hindi ko kaya ang lamig (andito ako ngayon kasi kailangan, tsaka di naman gaano kalamig talaga unlike in past Decembers), at isa pa, respiratorily challenged ako. Meron po akong pinagpipitagang hika. Bata pa ako, allergic na ako sa alikabok, tsaka sa amoy ng katol, sa certain brand ng pabango, at sa sobrang lamig na klima. Meron ngang isang sikat na lotion na di ko talaga kayang sikmurain, at nung isang araw na nakatayo ako sa rampa ng subway at inaantay ang train, may tumabi sa aking babae na suot ang mahabaging lotion. Tinakpan ko na lang ang ilong ko sabay tingin sa ale para at least man lang e maipaalam kong sya ang sanhi ng napipinto kong kamatayan.

Pero setting aside the cold and harsh weather, shempre lab ko ang NY kasi para syang ate ko, madness lang, walang method, pakialam nya ba kung naka Rolls Royce ka, pare pareho lang kayong pipila para bumili ng pretzels sa street vendor.

Tas yung The Producers, hagalpak ako sa kakatawa. Si Tony Danza ang nagre-reprise sa papel na originally ginampanan ni Nathan Lane, at kahit medyo asiwa ako dito ke Tony, natawa pa rin ako. Oks na oks.

O sige, liligpitin ko muna tong underwear ko. Baka kung kanino ko pa mai-fax ito ng di oras.

THE DAY AFTER

Naalala ko yung pelikula nung araw, The Day After, which was about the day after a nuclear explosion. Sagwa naman ata ng comparison ko with the day after Christmas, pero para sa ibang tao, eto ata yung araw na tipong all the sadness in the world begin to sink in.

Very depressing ang atmosphere sa New York, cold and damp, parang London. Nakadungaw ako sa bintana habang sinusulat ko ito, pinagmamasdan ko ang mga kalbong puno at naiisip ko kung nade-depress din ang mga squirrel pag nakikita nilang walang kulay ang paligid bukod sa gray na singkulay ng balahibo nila?

Sa Manhattan, lalo na sa 5th Avenue, pag huminga ka ng malalim, maaamoy mo ang pasko. Nagpapakalat kasi ang mga kapitalista ng hanging-pasko para naman, ahem, legal na legal ka nilang mahoholdap right under your freezing nose.
Naalala ko tuloy tuwing naglilibot ako sa mga blogsites, meron mga wishlist ang mga bloggers at pinangungunahan ng kanilang listahan ang ipod, parang yung mga bata dito sa neighborhoodas na walang bukambibig kindi That's mine iPod, Where's mine iPod, gusto ko sabihin, It's in your ass, kaso lang sasagot nila, But that's an iPot.

Sabi nung isang player ng team na talunan, puro I daw ang alam ng mga kasama nya. Sabi nya sa isang pa-epek na players-only meeting, "There is no I in team", akalain nyo ba namang may sumagot, "But there is me". Kaya ang mga tao, pag Pasko, parang mga "I" players din.

I, me, mine. Hindi nyo ba napapansin na kaya nagiging malungkot ang pasko pag tumatanda ang tao, kasi nawawala na yung "I" experience nya, kumbaga sya ang namimigay, di binibigyan, labo, ibalik nyo ako sa pagkabata.

Sabi nung pari nung minsang Kapaskuhan at nag-assist kay Mother Teresa sa isa nyang proyekto sa Calcutta, may isang Bangladeshi na in the throes of death baga at nakalatag ang katawan sa kutson. Sabi ng naghihingalong Bangladeshi sa pari matapos syang i-annoint, sa buong buhay daw nya, nun lang sya nakaranas humiga sa kutson, dun lang daw nya natikman ang sense of comfort - kulang na lang sabihin nya, Hayy ansarap palang mamatay.

Sa paglalakad ko sa kahabaan ng 5th Avenue, tinitingnan ko yung mga homeless, tapos gusto kong i-gouge yung eye socket ko para maranasan yung sinabi ng pari tungkol sa pagtanaw sa Pasko, sa buhay. Aniya, It's about time we see it with a new pair of eyes.

MERRY CHRISTMAS

There is no future in anger

Love is a great investment

Peace is sweet

To that taunting New Orleans Saints fan sitting in front of me, peace to you too, bwisit ka

Merry Christmas to all.

PAKSA: PASKO, PASKIL, PAKSAW, PAKSIW

Nayko, ala dyes pasado na ng gabi, sobra pagod ko, pero di pa rin ako dalawin ng antok. Kumbaga sa bente-uno nabuta na ang antok ko.
Gigising ako ng maagang-maaga kasi kelangan 7:30 nasa airport na ako. Balik akong Nuyok bukas para maki-Pasko sa pamilya, at kung maginarte ako bukas, malamang sa alamang e di ako magising at pag naiwan ako ng eroplano e baka katayin ako ng nanay ko.

Masarap makipasko sa pamilya sa New York kaso lang di kompleto. May mga nagretiro kasi at nagpasyang bumalik na sa Pilipinas; may mga naiwan din sa Pilipinas at di pa makakaalis dahil nakaapak ata ng superglue; may mga nanatili sa Miami; may pumanig sa kainitan ng Carribean; may nanganak sa Norway; may nakipamilya sa Hongkong; at may ibang hindi ko alam kung nasaan, Crispin, Basilio, Basilio, Crispin, anak...

Sa mall kanina, kahit di ka maglakad makararating ka sa pupuntahan mo kung itututok mo lang ang dulo ng paa mo sa pupuntahan mo. Parang timon ng bangka, itutulak ka ng hangin, otherwise known as madlang consumers, at uusad ka na sa direksyong ninais mo. Naghahanap kasi ako ng sweater pamasko na di tataas sa $25.00 (yun kasi ang halaga ng miserableng gift card na natanggap ko), pero anak ng few tah, pinakamurang nakita ko e $85.00, sabi ko hoy hoy hoy, manigas na lang ako sa lamig, jan na kayoh! Tas takbo ako ng Borders para maghagilap ng librong dadalhin ko. After Christmas kasi wala akong balak maglamyerda kaya iistambay na lang ako sa bahay at magbabasa. Inisa-isa ko yung mga libro mula letter A (Alpha by Author), a-ha! pagdating sa Auster, nakita ko yung Brooklyn Follies ni Paul Auster, sa unang page pa lang -

Overture

I was looking for a quiet place to die. Someone recommended Brooklyn, and so the next morning I traveled down there from Westchester to scope out the terrain.

- ayos na kako, tipong may dating (as in may arrive, ika nga ni Betcha by golly wahaw).

Tas nun hanap pa ulet ako, hanap hanap, basa basa, kasi kelangan ng isa pa, kapos ang isa lang.

Ayus, nahagip ko yung My Name is Red ni Orhan Pamuk. Ready na ako sa bakbakan.

Manonood ako ng The Producers sa Broadway sa Sabado, tas may ticket ako sa NY Giants vs. New Orleans Saints sa Meadowlands sa Linggo. Tas sa Lunes e kakain na lang ako ng maraming paksiw na lechon na punong puno ng pampabatang cholesterol. Tapos nun, magbabasa na lang ako ng librong bitbitin, mag-eemail kay Cha et al, at magba-blog hopping. Mapuntahan nga para makipasko sa kabahayan (at kabayanihan) nina

Titorolly
Sachicko
Batjay/Batjet
Angela Solis
Belle
Gwen Bautista
Dennis Aguinaldo (sobra galit mo, bok!)
Jumba Svelterogue
Toni Marikit
JimPar
UZ (Adorasyon ba kamo? Ulul! Anyway, hanep ka pa rin sa galeng.)
KiwiP
Jobert the Great
Schad (where art thou, thou art?)
t kung kani-kanino pa.

Ola. Maligayang Pasko sa lahat. Naantok na ata ako...

GREAT WHITE WEIGHT

I don't know why I didn't see this musical on Broadway, but I should have. When my sisters and brother-in-law went to see it during its initial run many years ago, he said he thought it was boring and lacked the usual Broadway flair.

Sometimes the best opinions on Broadway musicals do not come from brothers-in-law. For once I should have ignored him, even if right now I am getting ahead of my story.

I love musicals. Jellicle songs for jellicle cats and chicks raise me to a higher level of understanding the purest forms and functions of music onstage. I will hear a song from a musical for the first time and I could chime while wailing for the gap between their authoring and my listening, Where in the world have you been hiding?
A beautiful love song, sung live, can change my outlook completely, even for an instant, and say, Love, love changes everything, hands and faces, earth and sky.

My love affair with musicals started not by watching it onstage but by being part of what was going on backstage. It was a different world back there, none of the glamour, twice the fun, and I probably would not have been this attached to musicals if not for that first -an unforgettable first - experience.

I was a freshman in high school and during our foundation day the seniors presented Jesus Christ Superstar onstage. It was an annual thing, not just the foundation day but the JC musical, and every year the seniors play the parts.

Before the number was called, I went to take a peek backstage to find out what's going on, and what was then going on gave me a consummate thrill. There were cables and equipments everywhere and at the center of the makeshift wall were 10 switches installed side by side. Each switch was labelled as floodlights, or blacklights, or rotating lights, or dancing lights, or simply branded with a color, and so forth and so on. Taped next to the switches was a sheet of paper that turned out to be the lighting script - the method by which the lightsman was to turn on one switch and turn off the other in the progress of the musical - which was perfectly timed not just by an indication of the scene when a certain switch was to be turned on/off but by a specific line of a specific song in a specific scene. And so when Mary Magdalene was crooning "Try not to ge worried, try not to turn in to problems that upset you" as she and Jesus were warming up to each other in one scene, a switch labelled "yellow" was turned on and the stage was awash with a color of friendship, and when Jesus responded with his "Woman your fine ointment, brand new and expensive..." song, the stage shifted to a red hue to signify the sudden increase in tension, thanks to the guy at the back who timely turned on the switch labelled "red" and turned of the one for yellow, exactly as the lighting scripts asked for him to do.

My innocent exercise of curiosity paid dividends big time as I became the lightsman the following year, and the year after that, and so I was an accidental lightsman before I got to be an incidental lover of the musicals.

In my senior year, armed with stage skills and a little contempt for repetitions, I lobbied for a change of presentation. No more of the JC musical, on with something new. And as part of stage powers that be, whatever it was, I was called in to direct a musical of my choice. Oklahoma.

When it comes to musical presentation that I, somehow, become part of, I forget the word humble. Oklahoma, the musical, was touted as the best presentation in my school, ever, at that time.

Fast forward to decades after. I did not become part of the stage, in musicals. I simply watched them, and continue to do so, while they have something to present and I have the money to spend. Musicals on Broadway do not come in cheap, some $55.00 for upper level, middle row seats, and so it gets to be a little revolting when all you have to go through is a heap of trash disguised as songs.

My first Broadway experience was fantastic, front row seat at Gershwin theater for Showboat, and next to that was fanbloodytastic, last vertiginous row for Les Miserables. Both were great, great still, and I will never tire of listening to any one song in these musicals.

I have seen many after that: Man of La Mancha (featuring the song Impossible Dream); The Pajama Game (yuck!); Big River (great musical, great name); I Love You, You're Perfect, Now Change (funny as hell); The Beauty and the Beast (there was a scene here where a character was transformed from pauper to prince, foom!, in all of five seconds of smoke); Contact (very revolutionary for a musical, not one song was sung by any actor and every music played was canned, as background); and, Wicked (a pretty wicked bore!)

And of course, the overrated Miss Saigon which was a horrible watching experience. Many years after Lea Salonga, my sister and I watched this show on Times Square one rainy December, seated at the top freaking level, all wet, and there was this couple in front of us who obviously did not know the ethics of watching a musical (which was about the same as watching a tennis match, you applaud only after a point was won). So these morons were clapping their stinking hands right in the middle of songs, and worse, one was interpreting to the other, in a loud voice, what was being sung on stage. In the Fall of Saigon scene where locals were being hauled out of the city, I so wanted to scream and asked if they could take into limbo the distracting, disrupting, discombobulating morons in front of us.

And of course the disappointing experience was made more disappointing by the lackluster performances by the actors onstage, all simply going through the motions, bored by the songs which were admittedly uninspired and uninspiring. And from which I learned, you do not conquer the hearts and minds of the viewers with something huge as a helicopter on stage. It's in the song, baby, it's in the song.

And that is why this video I had been watching for weeks, which I regret not seeing on stage, is the best thing to happen to me now since the discovery of (musical) fire.

Four things got me here: It is about Bohemia, it stands up for sufferers of AIDS (which include the friends of those afflicted), it is set in The Village, and the first scenes happen on Christmas Day.

Rent is this musical, and in one scene which I play over and over and over again, I still can't get to decide which of the two is more haunting, the scene or the song.

Inside the Ryder Community Center somewhere in the ghettoes of Lower East Side of Manhattan are 8 lonely souls sitting on chairs forming a circle, having a brainstorm. It is December 25th, and as one of the 8 was telling a friend in a previous scene, Some people have nowhere to go on Christmas Day.

All 8 of them have AIDS and the leader of the group asks one to begin. The young guy (early twenties maybe) says "Yesterday I found out my t-cells were low", and when asked of his reaction, he says "Scared". The leader asks him how he feels today, now, and he answers awkwardly, Okay, alright, pretty good, the best I felt in a long time, months.

The leader follows this up with another question, as to why he chose fear, and he answers, I am a New Yorker, fear is my life.

And then the kiddo sings -

I find some of what you teach suspect
Because I'm used to relying on intellect
But I try to understand what I don't know
Because reason says I should have died three years ago.

Then they all stand up, hold hands while still forming a circle, and altogether sing a poignant song about the philosophical significance of here and now -

There's only this
There's only us
Forget regret
Or life is yours to miss
No other road
No other way
No day but today

God I wished I were a part of this musical, even if only as an innocent peeker at the backstage, someone lost in the temple of light switches. And then I will turn on the blue switch. Blue for cool. Way blue for way, way cool.

PASKO NA, SINTA COURT

hanap2 kita (sabay liko)...

a..ano to, anong lugar to?

akala ko ba mahal mo ako, bat parang ayaw mo?

hindi yun e, ano kasi, i'm afraid, i'm be very afraid, wala kasi akong alam dito, i'm so scayered...

dont wori, im a gentleman, i'll be very gentle, like a kittykitten la-la-la, meow.

andaming tao sa mall. para silang mga kutokuto.

binigyan ako ng utol ko ng coupon na $10.00 off on any merchandise sa jcpennoy kaya ayun, nakikuto-kuto na rin ako sa mall ikot ako ng ikot kasi naghahanap ako ng kahit anong nagkakahalaga ng $10.00 ha-ha-hayop makunat pa ako sa tira-tira o baka naman sa puto-seko kaya. haynako, gusto kong sigawan ang mga tao, magsiuwi na kayo at matulog.

may Christmas tree na ako sa bahay. punta kasi ako sa kalapit na tindahang may 6-7ft live firs kaso shet sa pwet na malabnaw $50.00 na!!! sabi ko sa tindera, miss di ba $30.00 lang yan dati?, asus, tinuro ba naman sa akin yung mga fake plastic trees, deym, anong palagay nya sa aken, radiohead? ginawa ko na lang e nirecycle ko yung 3ft pine tree ko from last year, nasa paso kasi sya at alaga kong mabuti, nung nilagay ko sa sala, ayus, 3ft nga lang sya pero anlupet naman ng personality, parang si cha.

sa byernes Christmas party namin. ayos. pogi na naman ako, before and after, but definitely after.

sa sabado manonood ako ng apocalypto. parang ako, batay sa trailer. apocalypto. a new freakin' begining.

maligayang Christmas sa inyong all.

BUNGANTULOG

Sa English, daydream (bakit tulog?, malay ko). Bakit bungantulog? Ala lang, nagde-daydream kasi ako na di masakit likod ko.

Napanaginipan ko kagabi yung dati kong girlfriend sa Pinas. Nasa isang kasalan daw kami, kamag-anak ata nila yung ikakasal, tas sa karamihan ng tao sa simbahan nakahilig yung ulo nya sa balikat ko. Pa sweet nothing epek daw ako kaya tinanong ko sya, Mahal mo ba ako? Sabi nya, Tanong ka ng tanong nyan, alam mo namang hindi!

SOME SETTLING SURVEY (PART 3)

Q1: Say your current feelings through the chorus of a song.
A: From Pobreng Alindahaw, Aruy-aruy-aruy, Aruy-aruy-aruy (sakit na naman likod koh!)

Q2: What will be the title of your autobiography?
A: I, Nakupo

Q3: Which celebrity most closely resemble you?
A: Two kids, in different occassions, thought I look like Jackie Chan. If they weren't kids, I would have thought they're smoking because that is so not true. (Westerners think all Asians look alike, which means some probably mistook me for Limahong. Or Pol Pot.)

Q4: So...?
A: I look like Matt.

Q5: Damon?
A: No. Alvarado.

Q6: That's it?
A: I really look like Jimmy Smits. Or that black dude from Law & Order.

Q7: Any distinguishing features?
A: None. I am so nondescript that if I stand at attention and a dog passes by, there is a great chance it will pee on me.

Q8: Make a composite of a perfect woman.
A: Eyes of Demi Moore; nose and lips of a young Tatum O'Neal; cheekbones, cheeks, chin, neck and aura of Allyson Lohman; voice of Alanis Morisette; brains and confidence of Arriana Huffington; and literary skill of W. Szymbroska. (Everything below the neck is close to unnecessary. But the thing is, there is no such thing as perfection, so I'll just cling to reality and look for someone with a cute butt).

Q9: Anything about you which nobody knows until now?
A: I say my evening prayers in Hebrew.