There is a response from a.t. (titled chopsuey, dated 2 November 2003) in the angas blog with respect to my comments about Almario's lecture on balagtasan at UC Berkeley.
A.t. makes a valid point. Balagtasan is supposed to be an impromptu version of a showdown of poetry. If in asking for an example of balagtasan, Almario interpreted this as a full throwdown of two opponents and a lakandiwa, then yes, it would have been impossible to stage a balagtasan. There would have been a lack of participants and a lack of preparation for the topic.
In my interpretation, however, what the students really just wanted was an example of a short reading of balagtasan. The thought occurs that Almario had written a book on balagtasan. Arkipelago was supposed to be at the UC Berkeley reading, but unfortunately, representatives were not there. Thus, I would have to wait to examine the book to determine if balagtasan or examples of balagtasan are present in it.
By the way, for those observant readers, I must explicitly state that Almario lectured on balagtasan. The comments directly related to balagtasan were taken by yours truly during the lecture. When I write my personal opinion with respect to balagtasan, I set it off with parenthesis so that it is clear that I hold that opinion and not Almario.
It is ironic to me that the lecture given my Almario contradicts the statements of the writers in the angas blog. Specifically, the nature of an impromptu poetry contest. Almario lectured that the participants had one week to prepare for the event and that the participants actually memorized the material before the event. Yes, I know, this is at the level of splitting hairs. But if we are going to make commentaries on writing, should we not pay attention to the lecturer? I did. [raises the arm... uh-uh... me teacher, me] And I took notes.
Sunday, November 02, 2003
Saturday, November 01, 2003
Post-colonial, Other & Object
In reading the angas blog, I came across references to "post-colonial," "Other," and "Object." Since really, I am not an expert on this, I searched the web for some references. I found this essay/primer which might bring to light to those like me, uneducated in the liberal arts.
From what I have read in the primer, KantoGirl says that I am the "Other" and not the "Object" when writing about the Philippines. In contrast, I consider myself the Object and the United States the Other when I am writing about America and the World through my eyes. Isn't it great how I can be both Other and Object at the same time? Who needs drugs when you can just discuss post-colonial theory and blow your mind away?
For those who don't know, my purpose in this blog is to document my experiences in America. I believe that I see the world very differently from Caucasians, African-Americans, Latinos, and other Asian-Americans. I believe that this perspective of seeing must be represented in the knowledge base in order for other people to understand that their actions in government (USA) has varying effects on the population because the population is hetergenous. I write not only about the US but also about the Philippines because American government policy has a direct impact on the world. I choose the Philippines because it is the country of my birth and I can easily research facts and data about the topic. It also does not hurt that I can use my personal experience.
I still have to deal with the statement that I will never know much about the Philippines because 1) I don't sit in traffic for two hours in EDSA and 2) I have an American visa, therefore I am priviledged.
Funny, I don't see myself as priviledged. But then again, there was always this tension about Pin@ys who are in the Philippines and those who have left and try to point out the problems in the Philippines. Philppine Pin@ys always say that those who left are now not part of the Philippines. I must delineate more clearly my thoughts on this.
In reading the angas blog, I came across references to "post-colonial," "Other," and "Object." Since really, I am not an expert on this, I searched the web for some references. I found this essay/primer which might bring to light to those like me, uneducated in the liberal arts.
From what I have read in the primer, KantoGirl says that I am the "Other" and not the "Object" when writing about the Philippines. In contrast, I consider myself the Object and the United States the Other when I am writing about America and the World through my eyes. Isn't it great how I can be both Other and Object at the same time? Who needs drugs when you can just discuss post-colonial theory and blow your mind away?
For those who don't know, my purpose in this blog is to document my experiences in America. I believe that I see the world very differently from Caucasians, African-Americans, Latinos, and other Asian-Americans. I believe that this perspective of seeing must be represented in the knowledge base in order for other people to understand that their actions in government (USA) has varying effects on the population because the population is hetergenous. I write not only about the US but also about the Philippines because American government policy has a direct impact on the world. I choose the Philippines because it is the country of my birth and I can easily research facts and data about the topic. It also does not hurt that I can use my personal experience.
I still have to deal with the statement that I will never know much about the Philippines because 1) I don't sit in traffic for two hours in EDSA and 2) I have an American visa, therefore I am priviledged.
Funny, I don't see myself as priviledged. But then again, there was always this tension about Pin@ys who are in the Philippines and those who have left and try to point out the problems in the Philippines. Philppine Pin@ys always say that those who left are now not part of the Philippines. I must delineate more clearly my thoughts on this.
The newest of our menu is Angas a writer from the Philippines who sees the world very differently from the way I see it. And that is always a good thing because the more diversity we have in the way we see things, the better off we are. Unfortunately for all you uneducated masses out there, if you don't know Tagalog, you are shit out of luck. Her posts are mostly in Tagalog. Perhaps, dear readers, you should go to your parents and ask them to teach you Tagalog. There is just plain no excuse for you not to know your language. [Oh, but if you know another Pin@y language, pardon me.]
Angas, I hope you don't mind my linking to your site. We might differ on opinions, but publicity is always a good thing to increase site traffic.
To all other readers, I suggest using technorati to check out incoming blogs connected to your site.
Angas, I hope you don't mind my linking to your site. We might differ on opinions, but publicity is always a good thing to increase site traffic.
To all other readers, I suggest using technorati to check out incoming blogs connected to your site.
Friday, October 31, 2003
October 31 -- Halloween Night
Two more months and it will be 2004. How time flies! It was just yesterday when I was worried that the turning of 1999 to 2000 would bring airplanes crashing down from the skies. Now, two more years and it will be my 20th high school reunion. Kinda scary if you ask me.
I've been watching the movie "Bend it Like Beckham" and it is brilliant. To me, this is what can be achieved by the second generation children of immigrants. To tell the story of life in a new country. I have to see the debut to see how it compares to BILB. Some people I know did not like the Debut as much. They said it was typical Pin@y faire. But that is the point isn't it?
It's 8PM and I'm waiting for the SO. I brought home Chinese food.
Two more months and it will be 2004. How time flies! It was just yesterday when I was worried that the turning of 1999 to 2000 would bring airplanes crashing down from the skies. Now, two more years and it will be my 20th high school reunion. Kinda scary if you ask me.
I've been watching the movie "Bend it Like Beckham" and it is brilliant. To me, this is what can be achieved by the second generation children of immigrants. To tell the story of life in a new country. I have to see the debut to see how it compares to BILB. Some people I know did not like the Debut as much. They said it was typical Pin@y faire. But that is the point isn't it?
It's 8PM and I'm waiting for the SO. I brought home Chinese food.
Thursday, October 30, 2003
Joey Ayala
I heard about Joey Ayala through my SO. It turns out that she had driven him around when he was visiting Northern California in the mid-1990's. Sometime in 2001, Joey came over to the United States sponsored by Pusod an environmental group based in Berkeley, California.
The "Organik" CD is eye-opening . I personally believe that Joey is a genius. He has the ability to tell the story of Pin@ys wherever they might reside. Stories about love, life and the experiences of Pin@ys in America make up bulk of the songs in Organik. The first time I heard the CD was like seeing the world being born. For the first time, I understood genius when it came to music. I have always been a visual person. To see things in a new light or in a new way was something that I had already experienced many times. But to be stimulated aurally. That was something new. Then, to be stimulated by the words of music.
[Sidebar: In general, I don't pay as much attention to the background music of my life. If you look at Sunny Vergara's latest blog entries, you will see that he pays attention to the music in his life. I mean, Sunny gives rundown on 1983 as a great and not-so-great year in music with respect to the artists and their records.]
Granted, Organik is a mixture of old songs and new songs. However, I believe this record is in the realm of those rare records like the Beatle's "White Album." The song "Bathala" is personally one of my favorites. I suggested to the SO that they will play that song when I enter the church during the wedding ceremony. The SO over-ruled me on that. She wanted the song for the Communion part of the mass.
Joey, you will make it to the wedding in 2005, right?
I heard about Joey Ayala through my SO. It turns out that she had driven him around when he was visiting Northern California in the mid-1990's. Sometime in 2001, Joey came over to the United States sponsored by Pusod an environmental group based in Berkeley, California.
The "Organik" CD is eye-opening . I personally believe that Joey is a genius. He has the ability to tell the story of Pin@ys wherever they might reside. Stories about love, life and the experiences of Pin@ys in America make up bulk of the songs in Organik. The first time I heard the CD was like seeing the world being born. For the first time, I understood genius when it came to music. I have always been a visual person. To see things in a new light or in a new way was something that I had already experienced many times. But to be stimulated aurally. That was something new. Then, to be stimulated by the words of music.
[Sidebar: In general, I don't pay as much attention to the background music of my life. If you look at Sunny Vergara's latest blog entries, you will see that he pays attention to the music in his life. I mean, Sunny gives rundown on 1983 as a great and not-so-great year in music with respect to the artists and their records.]
Granted, Organik is a mixture of old songs and new songs. However, I believe this record is in the realm of those rare records like the Beatle's "White Album." The song "Bathala" is personally one of my favorites. I suggested to the SO that they will play that song when I enter the church during the wedding ceremony. The SO over-ruled me on that. She wanted the song for the Communion part of the mass.
Joey, you will make it to the wedding in 2005, right?
Apol the Great
Aha! I was successful in actually finding a noteworthy blog that is written in Tagalog. Alleluiah!
Check out
Aha! I was successful in actually finding a noteworthy blog that is written in Tagalog. Alleluiah!
Check out
Apol the Great's blog. I had to wade through a nearly endless stream of teen-ager crap just to get to this blog. But guess what! It is all worth it. Now, if only that medical technologist from Saudi Arabia can start posting about his life and views in Saudi, I would be eternally happy.
I wanted my son to be named after Apolinario Mabini. Let's face it, I am not about to name my son after any of the apostles. The names are too common and that is just not a good thing. I want the kids to be able to distinguish themselves and to learn that they are individuals. Actually, I thought that another great name would be Bonifacio. But I have met people who's nickname was "Boni". Well, that just sent shivers up my spine.
Apolinario Bonifacio
What do you all think? Is that unique enough? Hmm, maybe too unique. Like those who are named Bayani. They usually end up running from their destinies. Maybe something less assuming. Where's that baby name book when you need it?
The goal for -the last few days has been to expand the menu shown to the left. I am thinking that this blog will showcase the blogs from Pin@y writers. I have searched google for some blogs, but the noise to signal ratio is pretty high. I have been searching lately in Rice Bowl Journals. It seems that the majority of people that are listed are teen-agers. The exciting thing is that most of the registered users in Ricebowljournals are from the Philippines. I wonder what that says about the Pin@y mentality.
Harana
The SO and I have been speaking wedding sometime in 2005. I have been amazed at how quickly time has passed. It's been thoroughly enjoyable being with someone who is low-maintenance, beautiful, well-adjusted and intelligent. I believe in God because when I asked It for a partner, It did not disappoint me.
One of the things that is tradition in the Philippines is the harana. Two years ago. asked two members of Sining Kambayoka if they could help me perform a harana for the SO. I figured, it would be a quick hit and run harana. You know, visit her in her parent's home while there was a BBQ. Hit them with one song of "Buksan ang bintana….," and then, go in and eat.
But remember what I said about intelligent? Well, the SO is also very inquisitive and can connect dots like nobody's business. So, two weeks before the harana, I reserve the Saturday.
Me: Honey, are we going anywhere on the 19th?
SO: I don't think so. Why?
Me: Oh, I've just been so tired from all these busy weekends, that I figured we should have a BBQ and stay home. Hey, maybe, just maybe, we'll BBQ at your parent's home.
SO: That sounds like a great idea!
Well, on Friday the 18th, the SO says to me that her uncle's party is tomorrow. Her uncle and aunt are celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary. Would I like to go? Err, in that two week's time, I have made arrangements with the two haranistas. We are on for the 19th. I have even been decoding a harana by Ruben Tagalog from a CD that I bought. I have been stooping over the CD player trying to decipher just what words were going to come after the "Buksan ang bintana."
PANIC!!!
Wait, maybe, just maybe, we can do the harana at the wedding celebration. Urm, that's not good though. I will be upstaging the 25th year celebrants. That's not good. I mean, I was ready to sing in front of immediate family. But this one would be singing in front of the immediate clan. That would set too high of an expectation.
I try to arm-twist the SO. DABOG! I mention that we had planned to stay at home. Why can't we stay at home. Well, it was the 25th. How lame can I go on this arm-twisting? I'm looking like an @ss from nowhere. I am weak. I can't lie. I just finally tell the SO that there is a HARANA for her on the same day.
Ahh, there goes that lightbulb in her head. "A harana! How romantic! I love this guy!!!" Profuse apologies come from her. I tell her that "Every time I have something happening for her, she always breaks the surprise."
The harana was great. I was thinking of just two songs, we eat the BBQ and it's over. The guys did the "Buksan ang Ilaw" song as the third song in a series that lasted about seven songs. We have it on tape somewhere. It was fun. It turns out that in the Southern Philippines, Mawi and Dick sang haranas for fun as their form of entertainment.
The SO and I have been speaking wedding sometime in 2005. I have been amazed at how quickly time has passed. It's been thoroughly enjoyable being with someone who is low-maintenance, beautiful, well-adjusted and intelligent. I believe in God because when I asked It for a partner, It did not disappoint me.
One of the things that is tradition in the Philippines is the harana. Two years ago. asked two members of Sining Kambayoka if they could help me perform a harana for the SO. I figured, it would be a quick hit and run harana. You know, visit her in her parent's home while there was a BBQ. Hit them with one song of "Buksan ang bintana….," and then, go in and eat.
But remember what I said about intelligent? Well, the SO is also very inquisitive and can connect dots like nobody's business. So, two weeks before the harana, I reserve the Saturday.
Me: Honey, are we going anywhere on the 19th?
SO: I don't think so. Why?
Me: Oh, I've just been so tired from all these busy weekends, that I figured we should have a BBQ and stay home. Hey, maybe, just maybe, we'll BBQ at your parent's home.
SO: That sounds like a great idea!
Well, on Friday the 18th, the SO says to me that her uncle's party is tomorrow. Her uncle and aunt are celebrating their 25th wedding anniversary. Would I like to go? Err, in that two week's time, I have made arrangements with the two haranistas. We are on for the 19th. I have even been decoding a harana by Ruben Tagalog from a CD that I bought. I have been stooping over the CD player trying to decipher just what words were going to come after the "Buksan ang bintana."
PANIC!!!
Wait, maybe, just maybe, we can do the harana at the wedding celebration. Urm, that's not good though. I will be upstaging the 25th year celebrants. That's not good. I mean, I was ready to sing in front of immediate family. But this one would be singing in front of the immediate clan. That would set too high of an expectation.
I try to arm-twist the SO. DABOG! I mention that we had planned to stay at home. Why can't we stay at home. Well, it was the 25th. How lame can I go on this arm-twisting? I'm looking like an @ss from nowhere. I am weak. I can't lie. I just finally tell the SO that there is a HARANA for her on the same day.
Ahh, there goes that lightbulb in her head. "A harana! How romantic! I love this guy!!!" Profuse apologies come from her. I tell her that "Every time I have something happening for her, she always breaks the surprise."
The harana was great. I was thinking of just two songs, we eat the BBQ and it's over. The guys did the "Buksan ang Ilaw" song as the third song in a series that lasted about seven songs. We have it on tape somewhere. It was fun. It turns out that in the Southern Philippines, Mawi and Dick sang haranas for fun as their form of entertainment.
Tuesday, October 28, 2003
Here is a sample of Joey Ayala's song:
Sample lyrics from www.joeyala.com - critique welcome
Ultimo adios
adios patria adorada
region del sol querida
perla del mar de oriente
nuestro perdido eden
sa 'yo ‘tong aking buhay
puno ng kalungkutan
nguni’t kung maging mas brillante
mas fresca, mas florida
sa ‘yo pa rin iaalay
sa ‘yong kapakanan
sa parang ng digmaan
luchando con delirio
kay rami nang nag-alay
walang pagdadal’wa
saan man ay di importante
sa cipres, laurel o lirio
bitayan o kabukiran
combate o cruel martirio
ito ay iisa lamang
sa bayang sinilangan
ang aking kamataya’y
sabay ng mga kulay ng langit
sa umagang papawi sa gabi
at kung saka-sakaling
pula’y kailanganin
aking dugo’y gamitin
sa tamang panahon
y dorela un reflejo
de su nasciente luz
mi patria idolatrada
dolor de mis dolores
querida Filipinas
paalam ko’y dinggin
ako ngayo’y patungo
mis padres mis amores
kung saan walang alipin
verdugos ni opresores
donde la fe no mata
kung saan naghahari ang diyos
adios padres y hermanos
bahagi ng aking puso
paalam mga kababata
sa ‘ting tahanang sawi
salamat at lilisanin
araw ng suliranin
adios dulce extranjera
mi amiga, aking ligaya
adios mga ginigiliw
ako ay hihimlay
translation:
farewell beloved fatherland
beloved of the sun
pearl of orient sea
our lost eden
my life is yours
drenched in sadness
but if it were brighter
more vibrant, more in bloom
still, it would be yours
for your enrichment
in delirious battlefields
so many have given their lives
no second thoughts
no doubts
the setting is of no import
among cypress, laurels or lilies
gallows or meadows
in combat, in martyrdom
all these are the same
to the land of birth
my death
is heralded by the colors
of the morning come to relieve the night
if by chance
more red be needed
use my blood
at the right time
and bless it with a reflection
of your native light
fatherland I adore
saddest of my sadnesses
beloved Pilipinas
hear my farewell
I am off
dear ones
to where there are no slaves
executioners or oppressors
where faith does not kill
where only god is king
farewell all relations
shards of my spirit
so long dear playmates
in our shattered home
give thanks for I leave
this troubled day
farewell sweet stranger
my friend, my ecstasy
farewell my loved one
it is my time to rest
Sample lyrics from www.joeyala.com - critique welcome
Ultimo adios
adios patria adorada
region del sol querida
perla del mar de oriente
nuestro perdido eden
sa 'yo ‘tong aking buhay
puno ng kalungkutan
nguni’t kung maging mas brillante
mas fresca, mas florida
sa ‘yo pa rin iaalay
sa ‘yong kapakanan
sa parang ng digmaan
luchando con delirio
kay rami nang nag-alay
walang pagdadal’wa
saan man ay di importante
sa cipres, laurel o lirio
bitayan o kabukiran
combate o cruel martirio
ito ay iisa lamang
sa bayang sinilangan
ang aking kamataya’y
sabay ng mga kulay ng langit
sa umagang papawi sa gabi
at kung saka-sakaling
pula’y kailanganin
aking dugo’y gamitin
sa tamang panahon
y dorela un reflejo
de su nasciente luz
mi patria idolatrada
dolor de mis dolores
querida Filipinas
paalam ko’y dinggin
ako ngayo’y patungo
mis padres mis amores
kung saan walang alipin
verdugos ni opresores
donde la fe no mata
kung saan naghahari ang diyos
adios padres y hermanos
bahagi ng aking puso
paalam mga kababata
sa ‘ting tahanang sawi
salamat at lilisanin
araw ng suliranin
adios dulce extranjera
mi amiga, aking ligaya
adios mga ginigiliw
ako ay hihimlay
translation:
farewell beloved fatherland
beloved of the sun
pearl of orient sea
our lost eden
my life is yours
drenched in sadness
but if it were brighter
more vibrant, more in bloom
still, it would be yours
for your enrichment
in delirious battlefields
so many have given their lives
no second thoughts
no doubts
the setting is of no import
among cypress, laurels or lilies
gallows or meadows
in combat, in martyrdom
all these are the same
to the land of birth
my death
is heralded by the colors
of the morning come to relieve the night
if by chance
more red be needed
use my blood
at the right time
and bless it with a reflection
of your native light
fatherland I adore
saddest of my sadnesses
beloved Pilipinas
hear my farewell
I am off
dear ones
to where there are no slaves
executioners or oppressors
where faith does not kill
where only god is king
farewell all relations
shards of my spirit
so long dear playmates
in our shattered home
give thanks for I leave
this troubled day
farewell sweet stranger
my friend, my ecstasy
farewell my loved one
it is my time to rest
Last Saturday, I was at a party where the television was basically addling the brains of the people watching it. The movie "One Fine Day" was being shown. Now, the thing that made me disgusted was that the movie was supposedly set in New York, but, there were no blacks, Latinos or Asians anywhere in the scope of the camera. How they manage to exclude blacks in New York still boggles my mind, but maybe, just maybe, I will exclude my money from going to the producers of the movie "One Fine Day."
Which leads me to "Friends." In the first three or four years, I was a fan of this series. I enjoyed the desperation of Ross and rejoiced when he finally got together with Rachel. But, then, someone pointed out that there were no minorities in the series. Jeez, after that, I could not bring myself to really enjoy the show. Again, the show is set in New York. How the heck can you not have any minorities in there? But this does explain to me how whites can say that there is no racism. There's no racism because there are no minorities.
Which leads me to "Friends." In the first three or four years, I was a fan of this series. I enjoyed the desperation of Ross and rejoiced when he finally got together with Rachel. But, then, someone pointed out that there were no minorities in the series. Jeez, after that, I could not bring myself to really enjoy the show. Again, the show is set in New York. How the heck can you not have any minorities in there? But this does explain to me how whites can say that there is no racism. There's no racism because there are no minorities.
Hmm, I was hoping that I would get some interesting comments from the Flips list with respect to my blog entry about the national artist Virgilio Almario. Unfortunately, I have seen diddly squat from the members of the Flips list. I suppose that they have more experience about national artists coming up short during a lecture. I wondered how many of those on the flips list actually knew Almario. Heck, how many of them took classes with him?
Instead, my entry has been discussed in this October 28 blog entry and another blog. The question in my mind is "Did they read the karinderia blog? Do they know sarcasm? Are these two colonized like Rio Alma and me? Are these two pulling my leg? Or, are they actually serious?"
They have problems because
"1.) sa tingin niya circus monkey si Rio. 2.) sa tingin niya 2 years ang kailangan para matutong mag-Tagalog." (1. In his view, Rio is a circus monkey. 2. In his view, it takes two years to learn Tagalog.)
Rio's refusal to read a passage of balagtasan in a LECTURE does not make sense because he is lecturing on BALAGTASAN. How can you discuss something and not give an example? How can you discuss rhyme and meter and then not give an actual analysis of the rhyme scheme or the meter or refuse to read an example of the balagtasan? Was reading a passage of balagtasan a requisite on a lecture on balagtasan? YES!!! YES!!! YES!!! I don't expect Filipinos to perform in lectures like circus monkeys. I do expect them to lecture well and to represent Filipinos. You should have seen the confused faces of the students when Rio did not read an example of balagtasan. It was EMBARASSING. Just because someone is a national artist does not excuse one from lecturing in a haphazard way.
As for learning Tagalog, I was making a sarcastic comment. However, I have known people who learned Tagalog in one year while they were in the Philippines doing research.
What really bothers me is that I stated that Almario was colonized and the angas blog did not have a problem with that. Either Filipinos are very smart or they don't know what colonized means.
Instead, my entry has been discussed in this October 28 blog entry and another blog. The question in my mind is "Did they read the karinderia blog? Do they know sarcasm? Are these two colonized like Rio Alma and me? Are these two pulling my leg? Or, are they actually serious?"
They have problems because
"1.) sa tingin niya circus monkey si Rio. 2.) sa tingin niya 2 years ang kailangan para matutong mag-Tagalog." (1. In his view, Rio is a circus monkey. 2. In his view, it takes two years to learn Tagalog.)
Rio's refusal to read a passage of balagtasan in a LECTURE does not make sense because he is lecturing on BALAGTASAN. How can you discuss something and not give an example? How can you discuss rhyme and meter and then not give an actual analysis of the rhyme scheme or the meter or refuse to read an example of the balagtasan? Was reading a passage of balagtasan a requisite on a lecture on balagtasan? YES!!! YES!!! YES!!! I don't expect Filipinos to perform in lectures like circus monkeys. I do expect them to lecture well and to represent Filipinos. You should have seen the confused faces of the students when Rio did not read an example of balagtasan. It was EMBARASSING. Just because someone is a national artist does not excuse one from lecturing in a haphazard way.
As for learning Tagalog, I was making a sarcastic comment. However, I have known people who learned Tagalog in one year while they were in the Philippines doing research.
What really bothers me is that I stated that Almario was colonized and the angas blog did not have a problem with that. Either Filipinos are very smart or they don't know what colonized means.
Monday, October 27, 2003
Sunday night was a book launch for Barry Schwabsky's OPERA. Barry's reading was like a series of cannonballs being fired into your face. Boom! Boom! Boom! Wait! I need a rest, damn it! Now that I have the book in my hands, it is absolutely a pleasure to read his words with my spacings/timing.
Eileen Tabios is the publisher for Meritage Press and Eileen graced us with a reading of her "20 minute" poem. The title escapes me at the moment, but I bring up the poem because once again, Eileen managed to teach me something.
The poem is inspired/derived from various poems that Eileen wrote. The repeating theme is about "you falling into my skin." The amazing part of the reading is that the poem was essentially a representation of making love. Now, how Eileen accomplished to describe/show/discuss lovemaking without making it seem like porn (from a Republican Moral Majority point of view) is amazing. The poem will be coming out in her next book which will be published by a Finnish publishing company.
Eileen Tabios is the publisher for Meritage Press and Eileen graced us with a reading of her "20 minute" poem. The title escapes me at the moment, but I bring up the poem because once again, Eileen managed to teach me something.
The poem is inspired/derived from various poems that Eileen wrote. The repeating theme is about "you falling into my skin." The amazing part of the reading is that the poem was essentially a representation of making love. Now, how Eileen accomplished to describe/show/discuss lovemaking without making it seem like porn (from a Republican Moral Majority point of view) is amazing. The poem will be coming out in her next book which will be published by a Finnish publishing company.
In general, when I, the monkey, ride in the '69 Mustang, my SO, the tiger, is driving. I prefer it this way because I have this fear of driving cars that I do not own. I figure, when I drive rentals, it is already an adventure. How much more so with cars I do not own?
My preference often surprises people. I break the stereotype of the typical male - hyped up on testosterone, engine grease, and making grunting noises of agitation, consternation and joy at the sight of an open car hood. I reserve my grunts for other more visually stimulating topics.
However, I love to ride shotgun, to raise my hand against the wind rushing past, and to be driven. There is a feeling of freedom in not having to worry about other cars that might hit the car. Don't get me wrong. It's not that I do not like driving cars, it's just that I don't obsess driving cars like others. I like to sit on leather seats; I don't necessarily fantasize over them while I sleep.
I learned from my father various things about cars. First, you have to use a squeegee every morning to make sure that the windshield is clean. Second, you have to wake up early each morning to clean the outside of the car. Three, you need to warm up a car every day so that the engine does not cut out in the middle of the road. Fourth, when you use the breaks of the car, the passengers should not be jolted.
Classic Mustangs do not lock, i.e., strangers can come by and pop open the hood by flipping a lever. The tiger's car has been the victim of two thefts. In the first theft, the radiator, the sparkplugs and carburetor were taken. In the second event, the thieves managed to run away with the car battery. That's right… the car batteries were taken. To prevent the thievery, the tiger uses a length of cable and a padlock to tie down the hood.
So it was that on Saturday, I found myself helping out at the hood of the car. The padlock key would not open the padlock. The cable had also been looped and was blocking the lever. After a few minutes, the tiger had to give up trying to force the key into the padlock. It was the turn of the monkey. Well, I should tell you now that my hands are like rose petals. Soft, delicate, sensuous. To get them dirty is just a plain sin. But how can I help it when the tiger asks? How can anyone refuse those eyes, not to mention those claws? I probably spent half a lifetime trying to force that damned key into the padlock. No luck.
Finally, the tiger decides to get the WD40. I tell you, whoever invented that product deserves the many millions of dollars. That stuff works! It was like magic. I had to force the key a little bit, but pretty soon, I was rewarded with a click and a turning of the key. I even almost grunted when I managed to turn the key. Instead, I just puffed out my chest and strutted around the garage. The tiger also rewarded me by allowing me to wash my hands with the professional hand cleaner of mechanics. That and the use of a hose really amped up my testosterone. The rest of the day, I strutted around and showed people my delicate rose petal hands that are now experienced padlock openers.
My preference often surprises people. I break the stereotype of the typical male - hyped up on testosterone, engine grease, and making grunting noises of agitation, consternation and joy at the sight of an open car hood. I reserve my grunts for other more visually stimulating topics.
However, I love to ride shotgun, to raise my hand against the wind rushing past, and to be driven. There is a feeling of freedom in not having to worry about other cars that might hit the car. Don't get me wrong. It's not that I do not like driving cars, it's just that I don't obsess driving cars like others. I like to sit on leather seats; I don't necessarily fantasize over them while I sleep.
I learned from my father various things about cars. First, you have to use a squeegee every morning to make sure that the windshield is clean. Second, you have to wake up early each morning to clean the outside of the car. Three, you need to warm up a car every day so that the engine does not cut out in the middle of the road. Fourth, when you use the breaks of the car, the passengers should not be jolted.
Classic Mustangs do not lock, i.e., strangers can come by and pop open the hood by flipping a lever. The tiger's car has been the victim of two thefts. In the first theft, the radiator, the sparkplugs and carburetor were taken. In the second event, the thieves managed to run away with the car battery. That's right… the car batteries were taken. To prevent the thievery, the tiger uses a length of cable and a padlock to tie down the hood.
So it was that on Saturday, I found myself helping out at the hood of the car. The padlock key would not open the padlock. The cable had also been looped and was blocking the lever. After a few minutes, the tiger had to give up trying to force the key into the padlock. It was the turn of the monkey. Well, I should tell you now that my hands are like rose petals. Soft, delicate, sensuous. To get them dirty is just a plain sin. But how can I help it when the tiger asks? How can anyone refuse those eyes, not to mention those claws? I probably spent half a lifetime trying to force that damned key into the padlock. No luck.
Finally, the tiger decides to get the WD40. I tell you, whoever invented that product deserves the many millions of dollars. That stuff works! It was like magic. I had to force the key a little bit, but pretty soon, I was rewarded with a click and a turning of the key. I even almost grunted when I managed to turn the key. Instead, I just puffed out my chest and strutted around the garage. The tiger also rewarded me by allowing me to wash my hands with the professional hand cleaner of mechanics. That and the use of a hose really amped up my testosterone. The rest of the day, I strutted around and showed people my delicate rose petal hands that are now experienced padlock openers.
Sunday, October 26, 2003
Colonization and Filipino Professors (continuation)
The training here in the United States allows for curiosity and inquisitiveness. The training for the Philippines requires discipline and respect. Sometimes I wonder at the ability of writers to break through this training regimen in the Philippines. I know that placed under the same critical eye of Pilipino professors, I would wilt. In my opinion, Filipino professors care too much about how they are perceived and not really about the materials that they cover.
One case in point is the visit by Rio Alma to Berkeley. Several students asked him to read from his works and for some bizarre reason, he did not. My initial guess is that for some reason, he did not feel that his reading is worthy of the location. Why he would guess that is beyond my comprehension. But then again, I am someone who begs for anything that is Pin@y. Another explanation offerred by one of his former students is that he had lost his vigor. Maybe ten or twenty years ago, he would have read from his book and he would not have stopped reading.
Rio's refusal to read his works strikes a confusing note to those of us in attendance who were trained in the US. An opportunity to show off the rhythm and rhyme scheme of balagtasan at a major university is not an everyday occurrence. The opportunity to spread the form and the spirit of balagtasan came and went in a matter of seconds. The scheme would not be so farfetched because of the musical style of rap which can be changed into that of balagtasan. It is an opportunity wasted.
In my small mind, I credit colonialism and the way Pin@ys are brought up for the wasted opportunity. Sometimes, we are intimidated by the Caucasians. God knows I was when I lectured at an undergraduate anthropology class. But sometimes, the needs of the few outweigh the needs of the many. I struggle against these chains which weigh my mind and my soul. Each day, I try to stretch a link in the chain so that someday, one of those links will break and I will be released. Each day, like an alcoholic reciting AAA's motto, I state "I am a colonized man. I must stretch a link each day so that I can break the chains."
During dinner, I was lucky not to sit next to Rio Alma. Otherwise, I believe I would have had to ask him in Tagalog why he refused to read an example of balagtasan.
One question posed to Rio Alma was "How do I begin to learn about balagtasan?" His reply was that of a doorman trying to preserve the last few vestiges of a dying art.
"First, learn the language. [REtong: Thanks for that pointer. Let's spend two years learning Tagalog.] Then, you need to become familiar with the aphorisms in Tagalog. [REtong: Anyone want to spend another two years or maybe five?]. Then, you can study balagtasan." This is loosely paraphrased by REtong. I suppose that this is very similar to the way in which master craftsmen teach their art. There is only one pure way of doing this art. Deviate and you bastardize the form.
However, as we were discussing the lecture, a point was made. The balagtasan is hardly practiced in the Philippines anymore. If there was an opportunity to revive it in the United States, why not take advantage of it? Sure, it will be different, but so is the practice of the haiku.
I believe that Rio Alma is as much a product of colonialism as I am. My hope remains in buying his book.
The training here in the United States allows for curiosity and inquisitiveness. The training for the Philippines requires discipline and respect. Sometimes I wonder at the ability of writers to break through this training regimen in the Philippines. I know that placed under the same critical eye of Pilipino professors, I would wilt. In my opinion, Filipino professors care too much about how they are perceived and not really about the materials that they cover.
One case in point is the visit by Rio Alma to Berkeley. Several students asked him to read from his works and for some bizarre reason, he did not. My initial guess is that for some reason, he did not feel that his reading is worthy of the location. Why he would guess that is beyond my comprehension. But then again, I am someone who begs for anything that is Pin@y. Another explanation offerred by one of his former students is that he had lost his vigor. Maybe ten or twenty years ago, he would have read from his book and he would not have stopped reading.
Rio's refusal to read his works strikes a confusing note to those of us in attendance who were trained in the US. An opportunity to show off the rhythm and rhyme scheme of balagtasan at a major university is not an everyday occurrence. The opportunity to spread the form and the spirit of balagtasan came and went in a matter of seconds. The scheme would not be so farfetched because of the musical style of rap which can be changed into that of balagtasan. It is an opportunity wasted.
In my small mind, I credit colonialism and the way Pin@ys are brought up for the wasted opportunity. Sometimes, we are intimidated by the Caucasians. God knows I was when I lectured at an undergraduate anthropology class. But sometimes, the needs of the few outweigh the needs of the many. I struggle against these chains which weigh my mind and my soul. Each day, I try to stretch a link in the chain so that someday, one of those links will break and I will be released. Each day, like an alcoholic reciting AAA's motto, I state "I am a colonized man. I must stretch a link each day so that I can break the chains."
During dinner, I was lucky not to sit next to Rio Alma. Otherwise, I believe I would have had to ask him in Tagalog why he refused to read an example of balagtasan.
One question posed to Rio Alma was "How do I begin to learn about balagtasan?" His reply was that of a doorman trying to preserve the last few vestiges of a dying art.
"First, learn the language. [REtong: Thanks for that pointer. Let's spend two years learning Tagalog.] Then, you need to become familiar with the aphorisms in Tagalog. [REtong: Anyone want to spend another two years or maybe five?]. Then, you can study balagtasan." This is loosely paraphrased by REtong. I suppose that this is very similar to the way in which master craftsmen teach their art. There is only one pure way of doing this art. Deviate and you bastardize the form.
However, as we were discussing the lecture, a point was made. The balagtasan is hardly practiced in the Philippines anymore. If there was an opportunity to revive it in the United States, why not take advantage of it? Sure, it will be different, but so is the practice of the haiku.
I believe that Rio Alma is as much a product of colonialism as I am. My hope remains in buying his book.
Colonialism and Filipino Professors (continuation)
Prof Almario's second part of the lecture dealt with "Balagtasan." Balagtasan is a verbal joust in which two participants debate each other on a particular topic. A moderator controls the flow of the debate and asks the crowd to declare the winner by acclamation. The moderator is called a "Lakandiwa" which is a word invented in the 20th century. Lakan is a title of respect and means "noble". Diwa refers to "spirit." Lakandiwa means a man of wisdom.
Balagtasan is a short form of poetry typically lasting about an hour. The participants are required to memorize long passages of poetry that supports their stance. The participants are masters of poetry's rhyme and meter, have a flair for the dramatic, and must understand the nature of entertaining the people.
The first Balagtasan had several participants. The pair that showed the most promise were Jose Corazon de Jesus and Florante Collantes. The two were so promising that balagtasan events were held in which both poets were the main attraction. In October 18, 1925, an event was held to determine who was the king of balagtasan. The topic was "Ang dalagang Pilipina, Nuon o Ngayon (The Filipina Woman, Yesteryear or Now?)." De Jesus won the event by public acclamation and was pronounced Hari ng Balagtasan.
Balagtasan served political and social functions. The events enhanced the roles of poets as seekers of the truth. Balagtasan crystallized for the common man his opinions on controversial issues. Topics that were discussed are in the form of "Which is better: _______ or ______?"
Heart or the mind?
Literature or the sciences?
Mother or the father?
Fishing or farming?
Coalition or non-coalition? (refers to the efforts of Quezon to unite the various political factions in the Philippiens)
Independence through revolution or through reform and peace?
Uncle Sam versus Juan de la Cruz?
Should foreign investors be allowed or not?
If one examines the topic, it shows a simplification of the nature of debate. How can one compare between the merits of a father or a mother? Heart or the mind? Fishing or farming. The debate is focused on simplification. The debate allows for a show in which participants go through the process of debate, but the participants are really arguing about the nature of the ant when they are about to be trampled by the elephants rampaging across the land. This is a nature of control by colonization. Let debate happen, just make sure that the debate is simpleminded.
Finally, the death of balagtasan occurred with the emergence of the electronic media. With radio, balagtasan became a weekly event. Prof Almario suggested that radio debased the balagtasan because people who were not really good were allowed to become scriptwriters. The poets of the 60's and 70's rebelled against the balagtasan because of bad scripts in the radio.
Professor Almario closed with this tanaga about a night in a cabaret. A cabaret in the Philippines refers to a place where you buy the opportunity of dancing with a hostess.
Sabi ko, "Maganda ka."
Sabi mo, "Hindi mura."
Sabi ko, "Gusto kita."
Sabi mo, "Bayad muna."
Prof Almario's second part of the lecture dealt with "Balagtasan." Balagtasan is a verbal joust in which two participants debate each other on a particular topic. A moderator controls the flow of the debate and asks the crowd to declare the winner by acclamation. The moderator is called a "Lakandiwa" which is a word invented in the 20th century. Lakan is a title of respect and means "noble". Diwa refers to "spirit." Lakandiwa means a man of wisdom.
Balagtasan is a short form of poetry typically lasting about an hour. The participants are required to memorize long passages of poetry that supports their stance. The participants are masters of poetry's rhyme and meter, have a flair for the dramatic, and must understand the nature of entertaining the people.
The first Balagtasan had several participants. The pair that showed the most promise were Jose Corazon de Jesus and Florante Collantes. The two were so promising that balagtasan events were held in which both poets were the main attraction. In October 18, 1925, an event was held to determine who was the king of balagtasan. The topic was "Ang dalagang Pilipina, Nuon o Ngayon (The Filipina Woman, Yesteryear or Now?)." De Jesus won the event by public acclamation and was pronounced Hari ng Balagtasan.
Balagtasan served political and social functions. The events enhanced the roles of poets as seekers of the truth. Balagtasan crystallized for the common man his opinions on controversial issues. Topics that were discussed are in the form of "Which is better: _______ or ______?"
Heart or the mind?
Literature or the sciences?
Mother or the father?
Fishing or farming?
Coalition or non-coalition? (refers to the efforts of Quezon to unite the various political factions in the Philippiens)
Independence through revolution or through reform and peace?
Uncle Sam versus Juan de la Cruz?
Should foreign investors be allowed or not?
If one examines the topic, it shows a simplification of the nature of debate. How can one compare between the merits of a father or a mother? Heart or the mind? Fishing or farming. The debate is focused on simplification. The debate allows for a show in which participants go through the process of debate, but the participants are really arguing about the nature of the ant when they are about to be trampled by the elephants rampaging across the land. This is a nature of control by colonization. Let debate happen, just make sure that the debate is simpleminded.
Finally, the death of balagtasan occurred with the emergence of the electronic media. With radio, balagtasan became a weekly event. Prof Almario suggested that radio debased the balagtasan because people who were not really good were allowed to become scriptwriters. The poets of the 60's and 70's rebelled against the balagtasan because of bad scripts in the radio.
Professor Almario closed with this tanaga about a night in a cabaret. A cabaret in the Philippines refers to a place where you buy the opportunity of dancing with a hostess.
Sabi ko, "Maganda ka."
Sabi mo, "Hindi mura."
Sabi ko, "Gusto kita."
Sabi mo, "Bayad muna."
Colonialism and Filipino Professors
It has been argued that colonialism has not been seen in the Philippines since the country declared its independence from the United States. But, neo-colonialism took the place of colonialism and with that wonderful instrument, America stunted many facets of the Philippine system. The fault does not only lie with America, but also with the 300 years of colonization from Spain. The resulting power of the Catholic church in the Philippines has had as much a crippling effect on the Philippines as the export of Hollywood and the American version of democracy in a third world.
The one aspect which I have seen crippled first hand is the attitude of professors who were trained in the Philippines during the 1960's. These professors are now holding prestigious positions as deans and presidents of universities. However, it is in their way of acting and thinking that I can see the effects of colonization most effectively.
I mentioned the lecture in UC Berkeley by Virgilio Almario the Dean of the Literature Department in the University of the Philippines. I ended up attending his lecture and the dinner afterwards because I had not previously met a national artist of the Philippines. That honor belongs to a select few. How much suffering one had to endure to simply become a national artist, I will never know.
At any rate, the lecture was about poetry forms such as the duplo (Tagalog), the dalot (Ilocano), the Komposo (Ilonggot), and the balak (Cebuano). I missed the majority of the first half of the lecture in which the structure of the duplo was discussed. I have to get the book to get that information.
At any rate, I learned that in the colonization days of the Philippines, the Bible was not given to the Philippines masses. Instead, the "Pasyon" which recounts the life of Jesus was the instrument through which the Spaniards and the church controlled the masses. In retrospect, this would make sense because otherwise, the Pin@ys would have found plenty of ammunition for revolts and revolution against the Spaniards if they had the full story of the Bible.
This situation is similar to the way America practices democracy at home versus the rest of the world. America will espouse democracy and freedom to both sides, but the real meaning will be determined by the location. If you are in America, then you have freedom. But if you happen to be in the Middle East, then your freedom will be subject to the nature of your current government whether that government be a dictatorship like Egypt or an oligarchy like that of Saudi Arabia. The conflict of espousing democracy is that sooner or later, you will have to offer the real deal democracy to the world.
At any rate, let us now return to the lecture by Prof. Almario. Poetry was an integral part of the life of Pin@ys. The T'bolis of the Southern Philippines by Lake Lanao use poetry in the courtship tradition. The man will hire a poet to speak about the man's achievements in life. How many animals has the man hunted? How many birds has he captured? How many fruit trees can he locate in a single bound? In turn, the woman will hire a poet to argue about the merits of the man. The success of the courtship is often dependent on the abilities of the contending poets.
In the Tagalog region, the "Karagatan" is a poetic tradition that has been lost. The story is about a princess who loses her ring in the ocean. The participants in the poetry take the point of view of suitors who will dive into the ocean to win the hand of the princess.
It has been argued that colonialism has not been seen in the Philippines since the country declared its independence from the United States. But, neo-colonialism took the place of colonialism and with that wonderful instrument, America stunted many facets of the Philippine system. The fault does not only lie with America, but also with the 300 years of colonization from Spain. The resulting power of the Catholic church in the Philippines has had as much a crippling effect on the Philippines as the export of Hollywood and the American version of democracy in a third world.
The one aspect which I have seen crippled first hand is the attitude of professors who were trained in the Philippines during the 1960's. These professors are now holding prestigious positions as deans and presidents of universities. However, it is in their way of acting and thinking that I can see the effects of colonization most effectively.
I mentioned the lecture in UC Berkeley by Virgilio Almario the Dean of the Literature Department in the University of the Philippines. I ended up attending his lecture and the dinner afterwards because I had not previously met a national artist of the Philippines. That honor belongs to a select few. How much suffering one had to endure to simply become a national artist, I will never know.
At any rate, the lecture was about poetry forms such as the duplo (Tagalog), the dalot (Ilocano), the Komposo (Ilonggot), and the balak (Cebuano). I missed the majority of the first half of the lecture in which the structure of the duplo was discussed. I have to get the book to get that information.
At any rate, I learned that in the colonization days of the Philippines, the Bible was not given to the Philippines masses. Instead, the "Pasyon" which recounts the life of Jesus was the instrument through which the Spaniards and the church controlled the masses. In retrospect, this would make sense because otherwise, the Pin@ys would have found plenty of ammunition for revolts and revolution against the Spaniards if they had the full story of the Bible.
This situation is similar to the way America practices democracy at home versus the rest of the world. America will espouse democracy and freedom to both sides, but the real meaning will be determined by the location. If you are in America, then you have freedom. But if you happen to be in the Middle East, then your freedom will be subject to the nature of your current government whether that government be a dictatorship like Egypt or an oligarchy like that of Saudi Arabia. The conflict of espousing democracy is that sooner or later, you will have to offer the real deal democracy to the world.
At any rate, let us now return to the lecture by Prof. Almario. Poetry was an integral part of the life of Pin@ys. The T'bolis of the Southern Philippines by Lake Lanao use poetry in the courtship tradition. The man will hire a poet to speak about the man's achievements in life. How many animals has the man hunted? How many birds has he captured? How many fruit trees can he locate in a single bound? In turn, the woman will hire a poet to argue about the merits of the man. The success of the courtship is often dependent on the abilities of the contending poets.
In the Tagalog region, the "Karagatan" is a poetic tradition that has been lost. The story is about a princess who loses her ring in the ocean. The participants in the poetry take the point of view of suitors who will dive into the ocean to win the hand of the princess.
Karaoke
I have never understood the addiction of Pin@ys to karaoke. You sing to music that has been sung by professional singers. Erm, don't you want to just play their CD's on the player? Why do you have to sing the songs? You already bought the CD/record/album.
The SO's family gatherings often revolve around karaoke. There is nothing better than to watch her uncles sing after they have finished off two bottles of Johnny Walker. Perhaps they need to intoxicate the senses before they can let go of their shyness. Her uncles did grow up during the 60's and 50's of the Philippines which was not as wild and wooly as that time in America. At any rate, slurred words and barely coherent mumblings are a staple in karaoke by Johnny Walker.
The SO is a wonderful singer in addition to being a martial artist, a performance artist and a poet. Singing is another gift that just has to lie in wait for karaoke because all the other things must come first. I have always envied her singing. I am a monkey, but sometimes, I am still a shy monkey. Maybe I need several shots of that Johnny Walker. Hahahha.
Last night, the SO was going along at a pretty good singing rate when I finally got bored. I sat next to her and started singing. Everytime it got to the chorus, the SO would place the microphone to my face. And I being shy would shut up. Did I mention that there was no one around at this time? It was the SO and her sister and her sister's boyfriend and the hostess with her one year old child who loves karaoke singing. Every time the karaoke singing stopped, the kid would start to cry.
What I eventually found out is that my voice is not that bad when I sing songs that I actually know. How about that? Hmm, we are now thinking about buying those microphones that contain 3000 songs. We probably have to even get the chip which contains an extra 1000 Pin@y songs.
The karaoke system last night used VCD's. Karaoke is a great way to see the world because the background scenes often show different locations around the world. In fact, one of the karaoke discs supposedly has a scene in which one of the SO's aunts can be seen walking the streets of Manila.
There are several objections to the VCD format however. First, some VCD's are titled "Beauties Around the World" and show women from around the world. The women usually prance around and act sexy. How that is supposed to let me sing a song, I don't understand. I suppose I would not mind so much if what the background scene is showing has any connection or relationship to the song. But usually, there is absolutely no connection. For example, the song "Dancing Queen" was on. There were two men and two women in the background scene. The song is disco. The dancers were dressed in T-shirts and jogging pants and they were dancing hip-hop sytle!!! This is not even irony. This is just plain corny.
And of course, in one VCD, the scenes were shot in Vietnam. In one song, we see several Caucasians aged fifty or so running in the beach. And of course, they were followed by Vietnamese women about twenty years old or so. And just to be balanced, there are of course some Vietnamese men who looked twenty years old. Now, how many of you out there think that these Vietnamese women were "servicing" the Caucasians? How many? I tossed in the Vietnamese men because those things happen too, ya know?
I have never understood the addiction of Pin@ys to karaoke. You sing to music that has been sung by professional singers. Erm, don't you want to just play their CD's on the player? Why do you have to sing the songs? You already bought the CD/record/album.
The SO's family gatherings often revolve around karaoke. There is nothing better than to watch her uncles sing after they have finished off two bottles of Johnny Walker. Perhaps they need to intoxicate the senses before they can let go of their shyness. Her uncles did grow up during the 60's and 50's of the Philippines which was not as wild and wooly as that time in America. At any rate, slurred words and barely coherent mumblings are a staple in karaoke by Johnny Walker.
The SO is a wonderful singer in addition to being a martial artist, a performance artist and a poet. Singing is another gift that just has to lie in wait for karaoke because all the other things must come first. I have always envied her singing. I am a monkey, but sometimes, I am still a shy monkey. Maybe I need several shots of that Johnny Walker. Hahahha.
Last night, the SO was going along at a pretty good singing rate when I finally got bored. I sat next to her and started singing. Everytime it got to the chorus, the SO would place the microphone to my face. And I being shy would shut up. Did I mention that there was no one around at this time? It was the SO and her sister and her sister's boyfriend and the hostess with her one year old child who loves karaoke singing. Every time the karaoke singing stopped, the kid would start to cry.
What I eventually found out is that my voice is not that bad when I sing songs that I actually know. How about that? Hmm, we are now thinking about buying those microphones that contain 3000 songs. We probably have to even get the chip which contains an extra 1000 Pin@y songs.
The karaoke system last night used VCD's. Karaoke is a great way to see the world because the background scenes often show different locations around the world. In fact, one of the karaoke discs supposedly has a scene in which one of the SO's aunts can be seen walking the streets of Manila.
There are several objections to the VCD format however. First, some VCD's are titled "Beauties Around the World" and show women from around the world. The women usually prance around and act sexy. How that is supposed to let me sing a song, I don't understand. I suppose I would not mind so much if what the background scene is showing has any connection or relationship to the song. But usually, there is absolutely no connection. For example, the song "Dancing Queen" was on. There were two men and two women in the background scene. The song is disco. The dancers were dressed in T-shirts and jogging pants and they were dancing hip-hop sytle!!! This is not even irony. This is just plain corny.
And of course, in one VCD, the scenes were shot in Vietnam. In one song, we see several Caucasians aged fifty or so running in the beach. And of course, they were followed by Vietnamese women about twenty years old or so. And just to be balanced, there are of course some Vietnamese men who looked twenty years old. Now, how many of you out there think that these Vietnamese women were "servicing" the Caucasians? How many? I tossed in the Vietnamese men because those things happen too, ya know?
Chinatown Dimsum Adventure: Third in a Series
The monkey's middle game was in shape. Use the texture of the jellyfish as a base to replace rice. Rice is beautiful, but eating too much of it will cause diabetes in later life. Use a dab of red chili sauce to increase the spiciness of the jellyfish. Then, use the Chinese broccoli as a second base to wash out the taste of the food. Here is the monkey's strategy:
Jellyfish with red chili. A morsel of lechon. Some broccoli. Sip tea or diet coke to cleanse the pallet.
Jellyfish with red chili. A bite from some shrimp balls with red chili. Skip the broccoli because of the burning sensation. Sip tea to put out the fire in the mouth.
Jellyfish with sligtly less red chili paste. An inch of fried eggplants. Exquisite texture in the mouth. A little taste of the "taoshubao" or porkbun. A sip of diet coke.
The monkey ate with consistency as the tiger splurged. The tiger's eyes could not concentrate on the food because there was so much. Tigers being tigers, pretty soon, the mouth could not keep up with the eye. The tiger tried to pace herself, but the monkey was more experienced and had more meals. The tiger soon became sleepy. But the tiger still had not eaten the desserts! That situation was quickly rectified however. Pretty soon, the tiger was lapping up taho from the porcelain-like spoons. Next to fall was the doughy dessert. Black bean squirted out from the ball as the tiger's jaws clamped onto the ball of dough. Dribbles of black bean came out from the ball.
As the tiger slowed down, more foodservers came to the table. Apparently the foodservers must have been talking about the monkey and tiger.
"Do you want a quick sale? Go to table number 43. A monkey and a tiger are eating their hearts out. They will buy anything!"
Fortunately, the monkey and tiger had ordered enough food in the first fifteen minutes so that their table was filled to the brim. The other families eating usually ordered one dish at a time. Probably to savor the flavor. But the tiger and monkey were not bound by cultural norms. Hahahha. The monkey and tiger scoff at cultural norms! We order and eat dessert first! Who wants banana? Who wants jelly doughnut Third Kingdom style!?
The end game was left to the monkey. The jellyfish was finished and so was the shrimp balls. The porkbuns had to go too, but too much bread means too much carbohydrates. The eggplant and the roasted pork will be to go. The brocolli too. Two of the jelly doughnuts Third Kingdom style will also be to go. But the rest of the food went into the monkey's belly.
BURP!!!
Please excuse the monkey and the tiger.
The monkey's middle game was in shape. Use the texture of the jellyfish as a base to replace rice. Rice is beautiful, but eating too much of it will cause diabetes in later life. Use a dab of red chili sauce to increase the spiciness of the jellyfish. Then, use the Chinese broccoli as a second base to wash out the taste of the food. Here is the monkey's strategy:
Jellyfish with red chili. A morsel of lechon. Some broccoli. Sip tea or diet coke to cleanse the pallet.
Jellyfish with red chili. A bite from some shrimp balls with red chili. Skip the broccoli because of the burning sensation. Sip tea to put out the fire in the mouth.
Jellyfish with sligtly less red chili paste. An inch of fried eggplants. Exquisite texture in the mouth. A little taste of the "taoshubao" or porkbun. A sip of diet coke.
The monkey ate with consistency as the tiger splurged. The tiger's eyes could not concentrate on the food because there was so much. Tigers being tigers, pretty soon, the mouth could not keep up with the eye. The tiger tried to pace herself, but the monkey was more experienced and had more meals. The tiger soon became sleepy. But the tiger still had not eaten the desserts! That situation was quickly rectified however. Pretty soon, the tiger was lapping up taho from the porcelain-like spoons. Next to fall was the doughy dessert. Black bean squirted out from the ball as the tiger's jaws clamped onto the ball of dough. Dribbles of black bean came out from the ball.
As the tiger slowed down, more foodservers came to the table. Apparently the foodservers must have been talking about the monkey and tiger.
"Do you want a quick sale? Go to table number 43. A monkey and a tiger are eating their hearts out. They will buy anything!"
Fortunately, the monkey and tiger had ordered enough food in the first fifteen minutes so that their table was filled to the brim. The other families eating usually ordered one dish at a time. Probably to savor the flavor. But the tiger and monkey were not bound by cultural norms. Hahahha. The monkey and tiger scoff at cultural norms! We order and eat dessert first! Who wants banana? Who wants jelly doughnut Third Kingdom style!?
The end game was left to the monkey. The jellyfish was finished and so was the shrimp balls. The porkbuns had to go too, but too much bread means too much carbohydrates. The eggplant and the roasted pork will be to go. The brocolli too. Two of the jelly doughnuts Third Kingdom style will also be to go. But the rest of the food went into the monkey's belly.
BURP!!!
Please excuse the monkey and the tiger.
Chinatown Redux
The monkey was hungry and quickly ordered shrimp balls encased in fried wonton. Mmm, it was delicious without the sauce made up of mayonaisse. But mixed with the sauce,the shrimp dish was a taste fat, that was bred from eons of Australopithecus searching for lipids in the hot and barren land of Africa.
The next few dishes was a blur to the monkey as the tiger saw the foodservers and called upon them to ply their trade. A dish of lechon, roasted pork, showed out of nowhere. With gout bothering his foot, the monkey was confused as to why the tiger ordered roasted pork. But pig-tail-pulling being one of the favorite pastimes of the monkey, the monkey did not complain and instead popped a morsel of porcine delight coated with plum-like sauce. There was barely enough fat. Perhpas this pig was specially bred in the confines of a 24 hour fitness farm where pigs are exercised on treadmills.
A green dish of sauteed Chinese broccoli was placed onto the table. The monkey had a flashback from an event ten years ago in a dimsum restaurant in San Francisco. While the monkey was still a fledging graduate student, the monkey would trek over to the Chinatown in Embarcadero Center with his friends. In one of those meals, Chinese broccoli was ordered. Remember that Jason? Chinese broccoli can either be sweet or be very bitter. Apparently, that day, the broccoli served was very old because it was also very bitter. The monkey and his friends all refused to eat the broccoli greens. Jason ended up eating the greens and was very nearly to tears when he was gently reminded to finish that plate. BWahhahahhaha.
Ahh, but as Morpheus said, "Some things never change. And some things do." The green broccoli was sweet and young. The monkey was glad that the tiger had sound decision making skills when it came to food. The monkey is always afraid of trying new things, but the tiger is not. Even when the monkey ordered his favorite jellyfish sliced into little strings, the tiger placed her fear aside and tasted it. The jellyfish though was not to her liking. The texture certainly is different. The monkey liked the gelatinous and squishy feeling of jellyfish. The tiger was more interested in solid taste textures.
A hint of green in the middle of a plate. A hint of yellow. It was fried eggplant with tofu! The monkey smiled and quickly pointed to the dish. This meal is complete! Fried eggplant is probably filled with saturated fats from the cooking oil, but it is one of the most delicious foods in the world. There is nothing like fried eggplants and maybe some bagoong, shrimp paste. Mix it with rice and you have a celebration of the peasants in the Philippines.
The tiger noticed a cart wandering up and down the aisles. This must be a special dish. Probably a soup or a dessert because the food must remain hot and so the need for the cart. The foodserver opens the cover and it was TAHOOOOO!! A favorite from the childhood the monkey, taho with sago was a treat during the afternoon hours. Bring your own glass as the mangtataho scooped soybean curd and sago. Ummm, childhood memories filled up the monkeys eyes. Flashes of warm glasses, sweet syrup and warm curd filling the stomach dazzled the monkey.
The tiger was busy on the hunt. One dessert was good. A second dessert would be better. The tiger's nose crinkled. There was another dessert out there. The scent was covered up by the coconut and the sugar mixed into the air. The scent of fried and steamed food filled the air. The tiger was looking for a specific dessert. This dessert is a ball of flour with black bean inside. The black bean is not a solid but a semi-liquid. The tiger thanked god for imagination. Without imagination, there would only be boring food. Finally, the flour balls came on by covered with a mixture of powdered rice. The dough was soft. The structure was that of a jelly doughnut. The taste was phenomenal. Dough was mixed with the sweetness of black bean.
The monkey was hungry and quickly ordered shrimp balls encased in fried wonton. Mmm, it was delicious without the sauce made up of mayonaisse. But mixed with the sauce,the shrimp dish was a taste fat, that was bred from eons of Australopithecus searching for lipids in the hot and barren land of Africa.
The next few dishes was a blur to the monkey as the tiger saw the foodservers and called upon them to ply their trade. A dish of lechon, roasted pork, showed out of nowhere. With gout bothering his foot, the monkey was confused as to why the tiger ordered roasted pork. But pig-tail-pulling being one of the favorite pastimes of the monkey, the monkey did not complain and instead popped a morsel of porcine delight coated with plum-like sauce. There was barely enough fat. Perhpas this pig was specially bred in the confines of a 24 hour fitness farm where pigs are exercised on treadmills.
A green dish of sauteed Chinese broccoli was placed onto the table. The monkey had a flashback from an event ten years ago in a dimsum restaurant in San Francisco. While the monkey was still a fledging graduate student, the monkey would trek over to the Chinatown in Embarcadero Center with his friends. In one of those meals, Chinese broccoli was ordered. Remember that Jason? Chinese broccoli can either be sweet or be very bitter. Apparently, that day, the broccoli served was very old because it was also very bitter. The monkey and his friends all refused to eat the broccoli greens. Jason ended up eating the greens and was very nearly to tears when he was gently reminded to finish that plate. BWahhahahhaha.
Ahh, but as Morpheus said, "Some things never change. And some things do." The green broccoli was sweet and young. The monkey was glad that the tiger had sound decision making skills when it came to food. The monkey is always afraid of trying new things, but the tiger is not. Even when the monkey ordered his favorite jellyfish sliced into little strings, the tiger placed her fear aside and tasted it. The jellyfish though was not to her liking. The texture certainly is different. The monkey liked the gelatinous and squishy feeling of jellyfish. The tiger was more interested in solid taste textures.
A hint of green in the middle of a plate. A hint of yellow. It was fried eggplant with tofu! The monkey smiled and quickly pointed to the dish. This meal is complete! Fried eggplant is probably filled with saturated fats from the cooking oil, but it is one of the most delicious foods in the world. There is nothing like fried eggplants and maybe some bagoong, shrimp paste. Mix it with rice and you have a celebration of the peasants in the Philippines.
The tiger noticed a cart wandering up and down the aisles. This must be a special dish. Probably a soup or a dessert because the food must remain hot and so the need for the cart. The foodserver opens the cover and it was TAHOOOOO!! A favorite from the childhood the monkey, taho with sago was a treat during the afternoon hours. Bring your own glass as the mangtataho scooped soybean curd and sago. Ummm, childhood memories filled up the monkeys eyes. Flashes of warm glasses, sweet syrup and warm curd filling the stomach dazzled the monkey.
The tiger was busy on the hunt. One dessert was good. A second dessert would be better. The tiger's nose crinkled. There was another dessert out there. The scent was covered up by the coconut and the sugar mixed into the air. The scent of fried and steamed food filled the air. The tiger was looking for a specific dessert. This dessert is a ball of flour with black bean inside. The black bean is not a solid but a semi-liquid. The tiger thanked god for imagination. Without imagination, there would only be boring food. Finally, the flour balls came on by covered with a mixture of powdered rice. The dough was soft. The structure was that of a jelly doughnut. The taste was phenomenal. Dough was mixed with the sweetness of black bean.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)