HAPPY

In the short story The Student by Anton Chekhov a young lad tells two women the narrative of Peter's denial of Christ three times. The older woman cries while the story is being told because the young lad (the student) was giving life to the Biblical story so much as to see and feel him as Peter himself. On his way home, a mysterious sense of happiness pervades the young lad's person, due apparently to his newly-found ability to establish a connection between the past and the present thru his own words.

Aristotle said that the intellect, more than anything else, is the man. The aforementioned student, at the exact point of his epiphany, probably exemplifies that man who experiences happiness in the spirit of enlightenment. A discovering, knowedgeable man, at the point of his discovery and gaining knowledge, is his very own nirvana.

Be happy. Be the man.

epikuro-kuro

1. nakikinig ako ng isang opm cd na pinadala mula pinas, kaya eto nagsesenti na naman ako (di bale magsenti, wag lang muna magsebenti, aruy, umaatake prostate koh!) kumakanta sa unang track si aiza seguerra na, sa huling pagkatanda ko, aba paslit pa ang neneng ito at kinukurot-kurot pa ni vic sotto ang mapipintog nyang pisngi sa eat palaka. how times have changed, itong palang si aiza e aisa ng, uhmm, manganganta plus more. tas tumugtog naman yung kay ariel rivera - "sana kahit minsaaan, ay mapansin akooh" - na madalas kong kantahin nung araw sa saliw ng request ng mga tao sa inuman (request nilang tapusin ko na daw yung kanta, pronto), kunsabagay, kaboses ko talaga si rivera, si antonio rivera ng tondo. pero masarap talaga makinig ng pinoy music, nakabibighani ng sugatang pusong talamak sa singaw ng corporate america, at mas masarap kung yung mga kabisado kong kanta ang naririnig ko, pero yung mga tracks nina christian bautista, chiqui pineda, nyoy volante, nakow, sino ba tong mga to, di ko na sila kilala tsaka di ko rin alam mgga kanta nila kaya wala silang naihahatid sa akin na pangmunimuning alaala.

2. tas nabalitaan ko pa dun sa blog ni titorolly na eleksyon na pala sa pinas this coming mayo, e di kasagsagan na naman ang sangkatauhan sa pilipinas at bakit di e national pastime ng mga pinoy ang eleksyon. dun nga sa bayan namin ng kukulkan, pagkatapos na pagkatapos ng bilangan at nasertipika na ang panalo, iniisip na agad ng taong-bayan ang ihaharap sa kanya sa susunod na halalan. josme, di pa nakakapag-oath yung winner, me katapat na agad. sinabi din ni art borjal nun na katakut-takot na abugago ang tiba-tiba sa eleksyon dahil, una, inaaso nila ang mga kandidato, ikalawa e panay ang gawa nila ng affidavit para sa napipintong election protest (what are elections in the philippines without election protests, huh? huh?). tuwang tuwa naman yung mga tao dun sa amin kasi tuwing dadaan ang kandidato, aba, sabi nila, sir pa-sago ka naman dito, yun naman pobreng kandidato e di sige, sasabihin sa tindero, oist 5 sago dito, tas yung isang miron sasabihin, sir, pwede ba beer sa akin? ayun, hanggang sa lumaon, 5 cases ng beer ang pinagbayaran ng ugok na kandidato, naubos pa ang oras nya sa pagbibida sa grupo, yumpala e wala ni sa man lang dun ang boboto sa kanya. hayuf.

3. ngapala me ticket na kami para sa miami open sa isang linggo. yung para sa a-bente dos, sosi ang tix namin ne', lower level sa stadium, kaya pag nanood kayo ng broadcast nito sa tv sa araw na yun ng torneo at nakakita kayo ng mukhang unggoy, walang duda, utol ko yun.

THE CHALLENGE OF ART (PART 2)

I am a photographer.

I am a good photographer. I am probably not a bashful photographer, but like the previous, this does not alter any fact.

Whenever there is an occasion in the family, within my circle of friends, or even at work - out of the ordinary - I am always designated as the official photographer out to capture the moments at their most intrinsic, essential, quality.

I am blessed with a good, albeit vintage, SLR and accessories, aside from a keen, albeit vintage, eye. Consider: In one company Christmas party, inside a dimly lit banquet hall, I asked three women (not very well known to each other) to stand side by side, compressed, and when the picture came out they realized the trick of my t(i)rade: they were wearing similarly-colored blouses and belts and skirts and thus looked like 3 women draped in some uknown flag. And then there was this guy I positioned at a spot where, on the ceiling above him, was a flickering light from a circular bulb. I asked him to stand still, head a little tilted upwards, eyes off camera, palms clasped together and close to his chest. On picture that had a completely black background, he appears very serene while in prayer, with a halo hovering above his head. The guy's name, by the way, was Angel.

Im certainly good at what I do with the camera, with sufficient knowledge of and about composition and light, that in at least 3 separate occasions (2 weddings and a horse show, which, to set the record straight, are not one and the same thing) I was asked to cover the events, "name your price". And because I am an idiot (a good photographer is not necessarily an unidiotic photographer), I declined.

Despite my ability to capture a great moment among people, especially children and the elderly, the pictures I enjoy most taking are those without them - landscapes, seascapes, and three subjects I like very much: sailboats, barns, and lighthouses.

I also love looking at great photographers' pictures, like Ansel Adams', and this one guy's (I forgot his name; I don't have a photographic memory, npi) who in his 20 or so years of professional photography took pictures of nothing but dews. Dews! Dews on spider webs, or at the tips of leaves - which signify the many little lives evolving within this big thing called Life.

And last December, who else but the great Annie Leibowitz with her exhibit at the Brooklyn Museum of Art gagged my attention. She had this picture of Johnny Depp (clothed) and Kate Moss (naked), in bed, in such magnificent serenity that I was reminded of a painting by Guido Reni called Deianeira and the Centaur Nessus.

Still and all, my problem is this. When people look at my pictures, they say "You are a good photographer", and when they look at Adams' and Leibowitz' pictures they say, "They are such great photographers".

What I wanted to hear was "You are an artist", or "They are such great artists", but I won't because people consider photos not as Art but as Evidence of Art (as in Nature's Art).

At least in the case of Adams and Leibowitz, please, do beg to disagree.

GREEN AND BEAR IT (POSSIBLY, IN YOUR HEART)

Sometime in the middle of year 2000, while in the heat of the United States' presidential election campaign, I received a letter from a woman named Pauline Gore. Mrs. Gore, of course, was no ordinary woman, and getting a letter from her was no ordinary affair; she was the mother - no less - of that election's Democratic Party candidate, Al Gore, who was touted to hold in due time the post of most powerful, most stressful job the modern world has ever known.

I am not personally known to Pauline, and even less so, to Al, and
I surmised she was able to find my name and address from the roster of membership with The Sierra Club, an environmentalist organization that actively supported his candidacy, and somehow she decided to make the plea for our support of him more personal, or on a one-on-one, candidate's mother-to-member, basis.

I had been in possession of that letter for sometime, or long after the election was over, but I do not have it anymore to accurately quote its contents. Nevertheless I remember it to be a charming piece of communication that conveys a sincere sense of pride a mother had for a son, and it was more so because he was a bona fide champion of the same principles The Club came to existence, and his concern for the environment was supposedly one of the centerpieces of his administration if he ever got to be elected.

Let it be known from hereon, however, that I did not give Mr. Gore a single cent even if the sweet power of his mother's letter moved me, even if it was in my heart's deepest desire that he wins, and only because I thought the $50.00 - the highest amount I can spare for him that time - will never make any difference.

Mr. Gore lost the elections, a controversial one if he not only conceded at the earliest moment, but if there was one thing he won, it was the respect of a divided nation.

Al Gore happens to be one of my favorite living American politicians, and if there is one strange thing that sets him apart from my other favorites, it is this: he continues to push for his cause long after he lost in an election pushing for it.

I saw and heard Al Gore at the University of Miami's lecture series last Wednesday afternoon where he spoke mostly of the environment, of global warming, of sustainable development, of carbon dioxide from fossil fuels being trapped in the earth's atmosphere, of man's "business continues" policy, of "nature on the run" phenomenon, of the urgent need to "green" our cities - but the biggest thing I learned from him that night, actually, was the fact I underestimated my $50.00 going into his campaign.

The truth of the matter, as shown to me by this guy, is that Man, in all his smallness while in his fight to stop global warming, can make a difference even if compared to the enormity of the Earth.