The month has passed quickly. Each weekend has been busy. A baseball game on the weekend of the 22nd. A party on the 29th.
Have recently picked up bowling and that is why I have been not writing here. Bowled a 135 game just this past Thursday. Although rock bowling is not fun as I could not see the lane markers.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
Mutya & Maguindanao Masters
Mutya. The Allelulia Panis Dance Theater performed Mutya yesterday at Yerba Buena Gardens of the Art. Mutya means the pulse of life in all being. Mutya can refer to the the pearl-like object that is born from the heart of a banana plant during the holiest day of the year. Mutya also refers to the female energy. I am familiar with the term through "Mutya ng Pilipinas" a beauty pageant in the homeland.
mutya
ng babae,
ilalim ng saging
mutya
ng buhay,
pulso ng katauhan
mutya.
kababaihang kaluluwa
nangangailangan sa lahat.
Alleluia Panis' vision is to create dance / theater works that define the artistic identity of thee Pilipino-American people. From what I saw in "Mutya," Alleluia succeeded where others have come up short.
To define culture is to define jell-o. You can try to capture, to hold, to limit it, but in the end, you need a larger Tupperware to hold everything that it encompasses. To represent a people's experience in a dance, well, it is almost impossible. The Western tradition of >ballet and modern dance take little pieces of history. But you know, Pilipinos just don't think small. Thus, we have the Mutya Project, which is due in January 2007.
Whereas Philippine folk dancing is way to look at the past of Pilipino ancestors, Pilipino post-modern dance must incorporate the present day reality of the Pin@y experience. A Pin@y in San Francisco would more often than not be the child of an immigrant. The Pin@y would have come from the middle class or lower from the Philippines. Money will be an issue of survival. For most, education will be the only vine to save them from the quagmire of poverty. For some, gangs and drugs will be knife that harvests their lives.
The goal is to encapsulate that world, reconcile it with the ancestral past, and create a work of art that will inspire.
It is not an easy task.
Beginning. The dance began in the dark like most of us began life in the womb. Three dancers wrap their bodies in a T'nalak, abaca fibers woven into silk like texture. Elements of pangalay accompany the music through the movement of the hands. Three t'nalaks were attached at their ends such that a triad spoke is formed. [Imagine a wheel with three radial spokes instead of the forty or so. ] The cloth limits the body movements of the three dancers. The dancers can not leap, they can barely jump. A slow clockwise rotation. A counter-clockwise movement to change pace. Was this dance the representation of Pilipino-Americans and their multi-faceted identities of Probinsiyano, Spanish, and American? The abaca t'nalak tie the identities into one. The t'nalak ties represent the history of the colonization and the subsumed probinsiyano or regional identity so prevalent in Philippine society.
Meanwhile, the rondalla music played in the background. "In the key of off ," remarked someone. The rondalla group played the traditional folk music. Before the performance, the band played extremely well. There was no hiccup at all. But during the whole Mutya performance, there were problems. The musical notes had a dissonance. At first I thought that it was simply an error. After all, musicians playing in the dark can pluck the wrong string. But, the error kept repeating itself. Finally, I glanced over at the band and noticed that a new player had joined. I don't know if he was out of tune or if he was making the mistakes. But the sound was definitely wrong. Because of the off-key playing, the performance of the dances was affected. Also, there did not seem to be any coordination between the music and the dance.
As an aside, this seems to be so true of Pin@ys. In life, in music, in dance, we are so bound by rules. The music must stop here, because the creator of the music only created 64 bars of music to be played. Rules do not allow our younger musicians, students or children to improvise and learn and expand into making the music their own. If an art of an image does not follow the rule, it is not Pilipino. The adherence to the rules make us disciplined adults. But it also keeps us from enjoying life.
The first dance concludes with a dancer entwining her feet in the triad of t'nalak. As she slowly spins, the t'nalak wraps her feet until she can only spin as slowly as the triad of dancers spun. The dancer spun slowly away from the stage into the far left corner, away from the light, away from our eyes.
More next time…
mutya
ng babae,
ilalim ng saging
mutya
ng buhay,
pulso ng katauhan
mutya.
kababaihang kaluluwa
nangangailangan sa lahat.
Alleluia Panis' vision is to create dance / theater works that define the artistic identity of thee Pilipino-American people. From what I saw in "Mutya," Alleluia succeeded where others have come up short.
To define culture is to define jell-o. You can try to capture, to hold, to limit it, but in the end, you need a larger Tupperware to hold everything that it encompasses. To represent a people's experience in a dance, well, it is almost impossible. The Western tradition of >ballet and modern dance take little pieces of history. But you know, Pilipinos just don't think small. Thus, we have the Mutya Project, which is due in January 2007.
Whereas Philippine folk dancing is way to look at the past of Pilipino ancestors, Pilipino post-modern dance must incorporate the present day reality of the Pin@y experience. A Pin@y in San Francisco would more often than not be the child of an immigrant. The Pin@y would have come from the middle class or lower from the Philippines. Money will be an issue of survival. For most, education will be the only vine to save them from the quagmire of poverty. For some, gangs and drugs will be knife that harvests their lives.
The goal is to encapsulate that world, reconcile it with the ancestral past, and create a work of art that will inspire.
It is not an easy task.
Beginning. The dance began in the dark like most of us began life in the womb. Three dancers wrap their bodies in a T'nalak, abaca fibers woven into silk like texture. Elements of pangalay accompany the music through the movement of the hands. Three t'nalaks were attached at their ends such that a triad spoke is formed. [Imagine a wheel with three radial spokes instead of the forty or so. ] The cloth limits the body movements of the three dancers. The dancers can not leap, they can barely jump. A slow clockwise rotation. A counter-clockwise movement to change pace. Was this dance the representation of Pilipino-Americans and their multi-faceted identities of Probinsiyano, Spanish, and American? The abaca t'nalak tie the identities into one. The t'nalak ties represent the history of the colonization and the subsumed probinsiyano or regional identity so prevalent in Philippine society.
Meanwhile, the rondalla music played in the background. "In the key of off ," remarked someone. The rondalla group played the traditional folk music. Before the performance, the band played extremely well. There was no hiccup at all. But during the whole Mutya performance, there were problems. The musical notes had a dissonance. At first I thought that it was simply an error. After all, musicians playing in the dark can pluck the wrong string. But, the error kept repeating itself. Finally, I glanced over at the band and noticed that a new player had joined. I don't know if he was out of tune or if he was making the mistakes. But the sound was definitely wrong. Because of the off-key playing, the performance of the dances was affected. Also, there did not seem to be any coordination between the music and the dance.
As an aside, this seems to be so true of Pin@ys. In life, in music, in dance, we are so bound by rules. The music must stop here, because the creator of the music only created 64 bars of music to be played. Rules do not allow our younger musicians, students or children to improvise and learn and expand into making the music their own. If an art of an image does not follow the rule, it is not Pilipino. The adherence to the rules make us disciplined adults. But it also keeps us from enjoying life.
The first dance concludes with a dancer entwining her feet in the triad of t'nalak. As she slowly spins, the t'nalak wraps her feet until she can only spin as slowly as the triad of dancers spun. The dancer spun slowly away from the stage into the far left corner, away from the light, away from our eyes.
More next time…
Monday, April 03, 2006
Transfilipina
Jing lives in Germany; A Pin@y in a foreign land about to be remade into the image of the Philippines. I pity those Germans. They don't know what they are in for.
Exhibitionaist. Sagittarius. Sporty. Lover of men. coke addict. Prude and proud of it. A connoiseur or snot and boogers. Transfilipina is the Pin@y Blogger of the Day on the 3rd of April in the year of the Pin@y 2006.
Exhibitionaist. Sagittarius. Sporty. Lover of men. coke addict. Prude and proud of it. A connoiseur or snot and boogers. Transfilipina is the Pin@y Blogger of the Day on the 3rd of April in the year of the Pin@y 2006.
Living from Death
Death. So final. So absolute. You exist one minute. You don't exist in another. Death is the liquor of life. Death stops you, makes you rethink of where you are going and where you have been. Death simplifies things for you. What you thought were so important now are trivial. Tears shed because of something said are tears wasted for self.
I spoke to Marianne Villanueva. last night at the Bayanihan Center in San Francisco. In the spread of the conversation, she asked, "Where is your mother?" As a reflex, I said "She's dead." I detected discomfort in Marianne's face. I added hastily, "She's been dead a while so I have gotten over it."
To recover, Marianne asked, "And your father?" Strike two. I replied, "He's dead also. It's been twenty years." Marianne replied "Oh."
In the Philippines, death is celebrated. Celebrated not like the New Orleans celebration. Celebration with food and with massive amounts of flowers. The flowers hid the smell of the dead. As embalming technology got better, the flowers stayed as a measure of the dearly departed's value on this earth.
Cancer. Tumors. Of all the diseases, the degenerative diseases emphasize much more than other diseases the regression of an adult into infancy. Before technology managed to balance patients on the slim line of life and death, parents left the world suddenly and unexpectedly. But with better nutrition and vitamin pills, more and more we see our parents become infants before our very eyes.
I was frightened when I saw my father's body be reduced to skeletal proportions. I knew as a teen-ager what was happening. It was the cancer. Or the treatment for the cancer. I wondered whether I would end up the same way. More importantly, I wondered whether or not patients are conscious when they are dying. Are their minds still as sharp? Are they trapped in a veil of fog? I hope it is the latter. Let them have the minds of infants if they are to have the bodies of infants.
In the end, I had to build a philosophical framework to accept my parent's death. One day, I realized that I could slide into the oblivion of despair. I could continuously dream of the things I missed about my parents. I could continue to pine away and wish for their return. Instead, I decided to live. I decided to take what they taught me and use it in my life. I chose to keep them in my heart. Then, they are not dead, or dying or in pain. They are alive, teaching me, counseling me. Making me realize that I have many things to live for.
But death marks your time on this earth. As a child, you hardly ever know anyone who dies. As an adult, it becomes a constant reminder to you. Time is passing. You are on the road to death. What has your life accomplished? What have you done? What is there to accomplish?
So here's to death and dying! May we all accept it when our time comes. May we accept the passing of those close to us. May we give solace to those who are about to leave the mortal coil.
I spoke to Marianne Villanueva. last night at the Bayanihan Center in San Francisco. In the spread of the conversation, she asked, "Where is your mother?" As a reflex, I said "She's dead." I detected discomfort in Marianne's face. I added hastily, "She's been dead a while so I have gotten over it."
To recover, Marianne asked, "And your father?" Strike two. I replied, "He's dead also. It's been twenty years." Marianne replied "Oh."
In the Philippines, death is celebrated. Celebrated not like the New Orleans celebration. Celebration with food and with massive amounts of flowers. The flowers hid the smell of the dead. As embalming technology got better, the flowers stayed as a measure of the dearly departed's value on this earth.
Cancer. Tumors. Of all the diseases, the degenerative diseases emphasize much more than other diseases the regression of an adult into infancy. Before technology managed to balance patients on the slim line of life and death, parents left the world suddenly and unexpectedly. But with better nutrition and vitamin pills, more and more we see our parents become infants before our very eyes.
I was frightened when I saw my father's body be reduced to skeletal proportions. I knew as a teen-ager what was happening. It was the cancer. Or the treatment for the cancer. I wondered whether I would end up the same way. More importantly, I wondered whether or not patients are conscious when they are dying. Are their minds still as sharp? Are they trapped in a veil of fog? I hope it is the latter. Let them have the minds of infants if they are to have the bodies of infants.
In the end, I had to build a philosophical framework to accept my parent's death. One day, I realized that I could slide into the oblivion of despair. I could continuously dream of the things I missed about my parents. I could continue to pine away and wish for their return. Instead, I decided to live. I decided to take what they taught me and use it in my life. I chose to keep them in my heart. Then, they are not dead, or dying or in pain. They are alive, teaching me, counseling me. Making me realize that I have many things to live for.
But death marks your time on this earth. As a child, you hardly ever know anyone who dies. As an adult, it becomes a constant reminder to you. Time is passing. You are on the road to death. What has your life accomplished? What have you done? What is there to accomplish?
So here's to death and dying! May we all accept it when our time comes. May we accept the passing of those close to us. May we give solace to those who are about to leave the mortal coil.
Birth …death. A cycle that repeats incessantly. In a thousand worlds, in countless galaxies. Birth …death. The two sides of a knife. The same side of life.
In our reaction to death, to dying, we see that which is true in the universe.
In our reaction to death, to dying, we see that which is true in the universe.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
APRIL IN LOS ANGELES
by Eileen Tabios
[4/2/06, A.M.]
1)
Everything is a relationship.
My family relied on the doctor to cure my father.
The doctor caught my mother in a weak moment and got her to concede, "Yes, he's dying."
I arrived in Los Angeles to hear my mother report on how a doctor discussed the best ways for a man to die, rather than how to heal.
"Doctor," I said in a conversation I plan to have. "Your role is not to advice how a person best dies. Your role is to treat illness, hopefully cure it."
I heard his thought, He's dying.
I replied with my eyes, We're all dying. We're also all living.
The words I said: "What do you recommend for someone who wants to live, with a family who wants him to live?"
2)
Since I last saw her, Mama has sprouted snow on her head.
Mama, ever by Daddy's bedside.
3)
F. beats himself inside his mind for having chided Dad for not eating. Later, we would learn his throat was blocked by so much phlegm he could not swallow.
Tears firmly jailed by the mind.
I beat myself up because I don't want to be here -- where Dad has shrunk to "Daddy" cradled among plastic tubes delivering antibiotics, antibiotics, antibiotics ... and oxygen.
4)
I am glad to be here. He saw me enter his hospital room and his face was suddenly the sun. His arms entwined with plastic tubes reached forth to hug me. I am glad he felt my arms, suddenly trees surrounding him. He hugged me back but I only felt more air.
5)
Kaiser Permanente -- ever stupid with cost-cutting cruelty. One hospital forced my father to leave -- "he's fine; he just needs to go home."
On the way home, Daddy started to have trouble breathing and they turned the car to take him to another Kaiser hospital's Emergency Room.
He is still in the Emergency Room.
Once, the ER nurse asked my mother in sincere confusion, "Why did the other hospital discharge him?"
A new question added to the list of questions which will never have adequate answers: How could the other hospital have discharged him?
6)
My father is better treated at the second hospital.
People matter.
At this second hospital, there is an experienced nurse with the ability to dislodge the phlegm that had been blocking my father's throat for five weeks in the other hospital.
They kept the jar with the sucked out phlegm. Ugly. Yellow. And the last piece sucked out was solid. Ugly. Brown.
"Like a piece of paper," my cousin observed about its solidity.
I would not be able to breathe, too, or swallow with paper stuffed down my throat.
As if my poems remained trapped there as I gasp unsuccessfully to sing.
I would not be able to breathe if my body jailed my poems.
My father is ill and I think of poetry and and and all of that saddens me.
==============
[4/2/06, P.M.]
7)
The conversation unfolded as I imagined it.
I asked, "Doctor, I'd like an update."
The doctor -- this one with a better "bedside manner" than any other Kaiser doctor I've met -- replied, "He's dying. I don't know what update I can give."
8)
My father's youngest son -- my brother -- died unexpectedly less than six months ago. At one point this evening, not knowing where next to turn my mind, I turned to a cousin H. to say, "If my father is to die soon, it's too bad he couldn't have died before my brother. It must be difficult for a parent to witness the death of a child."
In response, H. said nothing.
Belatedly, I remember that H., with whom I'd lost touch over the years, has two children, one age 2 and the other age 5.
9)
Except.
Except that since I arrived by his bedside, his condition markedly improved. Within hours after my arrival, he improved enough to be taken out of the emergency room. The technician unplugging his various tubes in preparation for moving him said, "It's always good news to be transferred out of ER."
Always?
10)
Later, I joked to Dad about how his improved condition must be due to my arrival. Grandiosely, I emphasized, "It must be my presence!"
He turned his head slightly, pretending otherwise. But his lips smiled.
He had called me a few weeks ago in the midst of delirium caused by his medicines. Not knowing what else to do, Mom had put him on the phone. That's when he scared me shitless by announcing, "I've got a tumor coming out of my nose."
Later, Mom would explain that the "tumor" was the feeding tube inserted through his nose. But, first, he pleaded with me to talk to Dr. G -- the very useless Dr. G -- to take away the tumor. To ease his mind, I lied and said I would. That's when he broke my heart by saying so plaintively, like a child just melting in relief, "Thank you."
As if I had the power to make things better.
The painful, conflict-ridden relationship we had all my life and, despite the criticisms he'd levied, he still believes me to be a bigger person than I know myself to be.
As if I had the power to make things better for him.
11)
I left him nearly 30 years ago. I have finally returned.
Finally.
12)
Everything is a relationship.
13)
As if I could make things better.
No. Thank you, Dad.
14)
The adult ages into child. The parent becomes a baby. The only difference, I thought as the tossed-aside blanket revealed how thin and ravaged his body has become, is that all babies are beautiful.
It took three seconds for my mind to skid, turn a corner and conclude, His ravaged body is beautiful. The purple bruises and purple lines of collapsed veins caused from too many intravenous tubes. The folds of skin loosened as his inability to eat pares down muscles and fat. The brown age spots. The skeletal legs undermined by lack of exercise. A body that I suddenly realized his daughter can probably carry.
Would carry.
O, Fallen Angel.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
MIsogyny is hatred of women
I finally found Barbara's blog. While reading, I found some things which I did not see in the same light as she did. In her March 30 entry she said:
Since I enjoy a good flameware as well as anyone here, I looked over the comments in Ron Silliman's blog. After reading the comments several weeks ago, I have to disagree with Barbara's assessment above. This goes to show you that even though I belong to the pack of coyotes, I can disagree with Barbara's assessments.
1. I have to believe that Ron Silliman's review placed Poeta en San Francisco as a seminal work. Ron's has explained or given his side of the story as to why he does not stop purported "racist" or "misogynist" remarks on the commentary. In short, doing so would amount to censorship. I believe in parallel with Ron Silliman that people can say whatever fucked up shit they want. They just have to deal with the consequences. The comments in the blog make it clear that the people who are giving the comments are not very intelligent, precise writers. They are lucky to be able to string words together into a coherent thought.
2. I did not see a misogynist statement in the comment section. Again, this is where one person can see "misogyny" and another person sees "personal opinion". To me, misogyny would be writings that depict women as hated things. [Hell, I had to look up misogyny because it kept popping up in the writings.] Personally speaking, the comments were dumb comments by dumb people.
3. The "exotic appearance" was from a male [pretty much qualifies the remark as dumb]. As another male, I looked at the episode as one commenter trying to make a joke. Granted of course, this is a male trying to make a joke to another male. "I've never been partial to the Polynesian look" is what I believe the statement was.
4. The poem that Ron Silliman reviewed is
[ave maria]___
our lady who crushes serpents
our lady of lamentations
our lady full of grace whose weeping statues bleed,
our lady who makes the sun dance, pray for us
our lady of salt pilgrimage
our lady of building demolition
our lady of crack houses
santa maria, madre de dios, pray for us sinners
our lady of unbroken hymens
preteen vessel of god’s seed
your uterus is a blessed receptacle.
our lady of neon strip joints
our lady of blowjobs in kerouac alley
our lady of tricked out street kids, pray for us
blessed mother of cholo tattoos
you are the tightest homegirl
our lady of filas and lipliner
our lady of viernes santo procession
our lady of garbage-sifting toothless men
our lady of urban renewal’s blight
pray for us sinners ipanalangin n’yo kamin makasalanan
now and at the hour ngayon at kung
of our death kami ay mamamatay__amen
This is a very powerful poem. It juxtaposes Mary, the Virgin mother of Christ and a prayer of the Catholic Church to the current reality of life in San Francisco. Specifically, it is life in the Mission. The holy and sacred is placed in the context of the mundane, the unimportant, the forgotten and the sexual.
By its very nature, the poem has elicited a response or a reaction from the commentators. Some have shown their non-preference for Polynesians. Some have questioned the juxtaposition of the sexual with the religious. Some have questioned the necessity of the sexuality with the poetry. In one sense, the poem has succeeded in creating conversation about what "poets" believe.
I believe that this is fantastic. The poem is deep enough to elicit reactions from average normal people. The poem shows that women do have power through their sexuality. And in truth, isn't that a wonderful thing?
I forget the rules of law in Jewish society. But if an unmarried virgin was to suddenly be pregnant, I believe the prize for said virgin would be STONING.
But our hero, the Blessed Virgin Mary is not stoned because she is carrying the SON of God!!! BRILLIANT!
5. There is an old saying in the computer world, "Garbage in; Garbage out." What should also apply to this situation is "Garbage processors [human mind]; Garbage analysis".
Yes, there was one wacky person out of the whole bunch. She was crazy and not in a good way. She was clueless. She was stupid. Her arguments like her writing were delusions. But I believe that she was an exception to white America. Most Americans just are not that crazy or stupid.
6. I believe that the comments in Ron Silliman's blog was nothing more than men trying to out man each other. The comments by the crazy white-girl was made by a delusional psychologically disturbed individual. I would not blame the white hegemonic powers nor the other clueless commentators. They are just not that intelligent.
I have to say that in my life, I have met other clueless idiots on the internet. But do I have to take it upon myself to open their eyes? NO. They can go watch a movie. In fact, the movie is "Walking Each Other Home" by Lee Mun Wah.
This is my two cents for whatever it is worth. I write it because even in a pack of coyotes [description used by the crazy-white-girl], there is still dissent… there are different ways of seeing things.
I believe that Barbara has certainly created poetry which elicit reaction. It's an excellent first step. But now, the challenge shifts to how can poetry elicit inspiration in the reader so that the reader decides to change the paradigm of his existence.
And as I am interviewed for a F/Pilipino publication in die Niederlande, I am asked, "What are some of the struggles/challenges you face as a Pinay Poet?" To which I have responded: " The recent racist and misogynist backlash I've experienced subsequent to RS's review of Poeta en San Francisco is a very clear example of what we all as Pinay poets are up against. Those resistant to our work and what we mean to say in our work will make it personal, very dirty, and very ugly. They will descend into comments about our exotic appearances, take violent stabs at our sexuality, hurl every racial epithet they can at us, and few who represent the institutions will do a thing about it. I did not believe American readers and writers could descend to this level until we all saw it for ourselves. My/our challenge, though, is not to censor ourselves, for these reactions make it perfectly clear how important our voices and presence are in literary scenes larger than our own Filipino communities, and that we must aspire for our work to change the American literary canon. I sincerely and firmly believe this."
Since I enjoy a good flameware as well as anyone here, I looked over the comments in Ron Silliman's blog. After reading the comments several weeks ago, I have to disagree with Barbara's assessment above. This goes to show you that even though I belong to the pack of coyotes, I can disagree with Barbara's assessments.
1. I have to believe that Ron Silliman's review placed Poeta en San Francisco as a seminal work. Ron's has explained or given his side of the story as to why he does not stop purported "racist" or "misogynist" remarks on the commentary. In short, doing so would amount to censorship. I believe in parallel with Ron Silliman that people can say whatever fucked up shit they want. They just have to deal with the consequences. The comments in the blog make it clear that the people who are giving the comments are not very intelligent, precise writers. They are lucky to be able to string words together into a coherent thought.
2. I did not see a misogynist statement in the comment section. Again, this is where one person can see "misogyny" and another person sees "personal opinion". To me, misogyny would be writings that depict women as hated things. [Hell, I had to look up misogyny because it kept popping up in the writings.] Personally speaking, the comments were dumb comments by dumb people.
3. The "exotic appearance" was from a male [pretty much qualifies the remark as dumb]. As another male, I looked at the episode as one commenter trying to make a joke. Granted of course, this is a male trying to make a joke to another male. "I've never been partial to the Polynesian look" is what I believe the statement was.
4. The poem that Ron Silliman reviewed is
[ave maria]___
our lady who crushes serpents
our lady of lamentations
our lady full of grace whose weeping statues bleed,
our lady who makes the sun dance, pray for us
our lady of salt pilgrimage
our lady of building demolition
our lady of crack houses
santa maria, madre de dios, pray for us sinners
our lady of unbroken hymens
preteen vessel of god’s seed
your uterus is a blessed receptacle.
our lady of neon strip joints
our lady of blowjobs in kerouac alley
our lady of tricked out street kids, pray for us
blessed mother of cholo tattoos
you are the tightest homegirl
our lady of filas and lipliner
our lady of viernes santo procession
our lady of garbage-sifting toothless men
our lady of urban renewal’s blight
pray for us sinners ipanalangin n’yo kamin makasalanan
now and at the hour ngayon at kung
of our death kami ay mamamatay__amen
This is a very powerful poem. It juxtaposes Mary, the Virgin mother of Christ and a prayer of the Catholic Church to the current reality of life in San Francisco. Specifically, it is life in the Mission. The holy and sacred is placed in the context of the mundane, the unimportant, the forgotten and the sexual.
By its very nature, the poem has elicited a response or a reaction from the commentators. Some have shown their non-preference for Polynesians. Some have questioned the juxtaposition of the sexual with the religious. Some have questioned the necessity of the sexuality with the poetry. In one sense, the poem has succeeded in creating conversation about what "poets" believe.
I believe that this is fantastic. The poem is deep enough to elicit reactions from average normal people. The poem shows that women do have power through their sexuality. And in truth, isn't that a wonderful thing?
I forget the rules of law in Jewish society. But if an unmarried virgin was to suddenly be pregnant, I believe the prize for said virgin would be STONING.
But our hero, the Blessed Virgin Mary is not stoned because she is carrying the SON of God!!! BRILLIANT!
5. There is an old saying in the computer world, "Garbage in; Garbage out." What should also apply to this situation is "Garbage processors [human mind]; Garbage analysis".
Yes, there was one wacky person out of the whole bunch. She was crazy and not in a good way. She was clueless. She was stupid. Her arguments like her writing were delusions. But I believe that she was an exception to white America. Most Americans just are not that crazy or stupid.
6. I believe that the comments in Ron Silliman's blog was nothing more than men trying to out man each other. The comments by the crazy white-girl was made by a delusional psychologically disturbed individual. I would not blame the white hegemonic powers nor the other clueless commentators. They are just not that intelligent.
I have to say that in my life, I have met other clueless idiots on the internet. But do I have to take it upon myself to open their eyes? NO. They can go watch a movie. In fact, the movie is "Walking Each Other Home" by Lee Mun Wah.
This is my two cents for whatever it is worth. I write it because even in a pack of coyotes [description used by the crazy-white-girl], there is still dissent… there are different ways of seeing things.
I believe that Barbara has certainly created poetry which elicit reaction. It's an excellent first step. But now, the challenge shifts to how can poetry elicit inspiration in the reader so that the reader decides to change the paradigm of his existence.
POMO Weekend 2006
One of my favorite books is When the Elephants Dance by Tess Uriza Holthe. Set in the middle of World War II, it featured supernatural forces with human drama. However, for me one of the more disturbing moments was when I read about the advice of an old crone to one of the female characters who was raped. The woman said, "You need to let this go. You need to let go of the pain and the suffering. You need to move on." Several years ago when I read this, I wondered how anyone could go on after having been raped. How do you deal with the pain, the humiliation, and the violation? I concluded that the advice of the woman was folly. It was wrong, dead wrong. In situations like these, it was excusable for the person to obsess and become bitter and be like that forever.
Fast forward to this weekend's POMO event held by KulArts. In the afternoon of April 1, 2006, a poetry reading was held at Yerba Buena Gardens. The readers were Marianne Villanueva, Jason Bayani, Barbara Reyes, Jason Reyes, and Joel Tan. There were several striking moments at the reading. What follows are my comments.
1. An excellent question asked by an audience member was why did Joel Tan use frank sexuality in his pieces. Joel replied that in anything, you have to put something out. The most basic of all things is one's own body. So, in his writings, he wants to show everyone who he is. One way to do that is to speak about his sexuality.
2. When Marianne Villanueva introduced her writing, she mentioned something odd. She said that in her writing, nothing ever happens. Nothing is ever resolved. I thought, "Then what is the point of your writing?" And after listening to the short story "Silence", Marianne was absolutely telling the truth when she said that nothing ever gets resolved. The two characters end up standing facing each other in silence.
3. Now an audience member who is an academic from Spain but was born in the Philippines (I did not get her name) later on stated a wonderful explanation for why the two writers above write the way they do. Joel and Marianne are creating a discourse between their writing and the previous literary writings of one genre. For Joel, it would be the gay literature. And for Marianne, it would be feminist writing. This explained a lot to me and my slow brain. You write this way because you are not in a vacuum. You are placing yourself in genres.
4. Jason Perez won the most amusing and most original doughnut prize. He wrote about the experience of a 12th grader in high school dealing with the inanities of life. But, the beauty of the writing was in the way in which Jason named the characters / groups in the story. It wasn't just the gang "Satanas;" it was the gang "Pinoy Sons of Satan." Watch out for this writer. He's funny.
5. After the reading, questions and comments were asked from the audience. I was struck by a statement from the audience. A student thanked the speakers for being beacons of light in a world of darkness. It was fantastic to see Filipinos as models of the community. The student went on to lament that he did not have an avenue to express himself at his school. When asked what school he came from, he said "UC Berkeley." This of course piqued my interest because a Pin@y in Berkeley is in short supply. What type of trouble is this kid in?
The readers however were very helpful and pointed out that there are avenues of things to try. There is Maganda magazine on the campus. And here, our hero-student said that "I am trying to break the he-he-hegemonic nature of Berkeley where everyone is white.
Now, having gone to graduate school where there were very few minorities, I was extremely sensitive to this issue. I myself have had some panic attacks when I thought I was not as intelligent as the other students who came from the Ivy League schools. But after much analysis, I realized that those students can be as stupid and dumb as anyone from Berkeley.
But back to our student who could not prounce white hegemony. I was intrigued by this perspicacious youth. After all, to use hegemony, let alone to pronounce it is a painful mission. But lo and behold my surprise when I finally see that the Pin@y student looked white. The thing that instantly popped into my head was "What the hell is his problem? He looks white. If I were him, I would use that to my advantage." Later on, someone also opined that the student could pass as a Caucasian. Let me be clear about this folks, the student is not meztizo looking. I mean he can really be a whiteboy from Georgia.
6. While the SO and I were eating at Naan & Curry, I happened to try and apply what I learned from Tuhan Joe Arriola. Tuhan said that one must stop reacting to things because reaction is a very basic function. What one needs is to be creative when confronted with complex situations. Tuhan was teaching about money matters. But I decided to apply that to life.
In the case of the Berkeley student, I categorize his statements as reaction. He tries out for parts in a play. He is given the bit parts. He wants the main acting part. The central character. But he does not want to be part of the support cast.
As the Spanish academic put it…"One, are you any good? Two, you need to be the best bit part actor. You can't start as the CEO of a company." I translated that to mean…Instead of complaining about the white hegemonic structure of a King Lear play, you should probably play the non-speaking role of the page first.
7. In the evening, the second part of the POMO / KulArts weekend began with a piece by Janet Stickman. In her piece, Janet discussed the child-abuse by a priest. I don't know if it is autobiographical. But, I would say that it is a great example of giving an audience what it wants. Drama about a pertinent topic currently going on in American society. The piece follows a basic business rule. To make money, give the people what they want.
However, at that point, the voice of Tuhan clicked on in my head. His words were "Those beginning their life's journey ask "What do I want?" Those who decide to go into business have figured out that to be successful in business, one needs to give people what they want. But in reality, to help the community and to help people, what is critical is to give people not only what they want, but also what they need.
And I have this wonderful revelation in my head. The readings and performances tonight were on the whole wonderful moments of giving people what they want. But also, to a certain extent, the readings and performances fail because they did not give people what they needed.
At this point, I would like to contrast the ending for Janet Stickman's story / piece and that of Tess Uriza Holthe. Janet's character obtains vengeance against Father Jimmy by naming him to everyone. In revealing his identity as that of a rapist and a molester, she has obtained vengeance for her eight years of silence and non-writing. The character injects Father Jimmy with the same pain and suffering as the character felt. And that is as far as the story goes.
But in Tess' story, the old crone advises the character who was raped to let the pain and suffering go. To let it be washed away by love. Or her fate will be that of the old crone, a bitter life dotted with envy of everyone else's life.
I look at the above paragraphs and realize that Tess' story gives people what they need while Janet's gives people what they want. In a certain way, Tess' story is the more successful story because there is a practical advice at the end of a very painful event.
8. I mention above how examined in one light, one can say that the performances fail in giving people what they need. But how can a person practically give people the things that they need?
One has to be creative. One has to create joy and laughter in the middle of the pain and misery. It shows people that the pain and the misery can pass. One can retell the stories of one's life to others who might be seeking others with whom they can commiserate. And one can break grounds such that white people begin laughing at one's very distinctive Pin@y joke of the barrel man.
One person who did it was Reggie Cabico. Energetic with a philosopher's mind. Poetic in the descriptions of his love affairs. Manic in his impersonations. Utmost misery in dealing with his mother's insecurities. Absolute joy in being a man who loves other men.
Reggie Cabico needs an HBO show. In one scene, he brings out the chocolates. He asked the audience their astrological signs. "Who is Pisces?" Then, he describes that particular love affair. "Pisces. You were the one who introduced me to your mother as your "friend" visiting from the islands. I was the flavor of the month. You left me on the JFK tarmac." [Note: I made the last line up to give you a flavor of his schtick. I was laughing so hard that I forgot what his love stories were.] I did remember that at the end, he asked, "Who's a slut? ….You, the slut do not get candy because you are a one night stand."
9. In this world in which everyone is taught that they are special and that they will do something special in the world, the hardest fall is when you realize just like everyone else that you are only okay. You are average. You will never be stage actor like Sidney Poitier. You will never be the singer like Barbara Streisand. You will never be the hookster who comes back from the dead ala Donald Trump.
The greatest challenge in life is what do you do when you realize that you have to work, earn a living, do things you despise in order to live. Your dreams in childhood dissolve into the ether. If lucky, you are left with education. If unlucky, you are unmarried with a child and a mother to support.
The average everyday people need a change in paradigm. A change in the way they think. A change in their opinions. A change in their decision to lead life. In short measure, what they need from poets, singers, actors and writers is the inspiration to change their life. Average everyday people want the emotion, the drama and the constant pain and suffering. This allows them to tell everyone else that they are special because they are undergoing this process.
But really, is grieving over your relative's death that special? Sooner or later, everyone does it. Everyone's reactions will differ. Some will be guilty that they were not good daughters. Some will be relieved that they are no longer responsible. Some will forever miss the bond. These are the only things that differ. Each person's reaction.
And it is in this that I say that the artist's job is to inspire change in an everyday person's life.
10. I was speaking with a friend of mine about the Maguindanao Masters touring the Unites States. She privately confessed to me her frustration about the lack of support from the Filipino community in bringing the fabulous musicians to the local area. Considering the fact that there is a high number of Filipinos in Los Angeles, San Diego, and God only knows where else in the East Coast, it is still very difficult for the Filipinos to come together and get our shit together.
In my mind, I had to ask the question, "Are the peole organizing these events in other areas born in the Philippines or the US?" The answer inevitably is that they are born in the Philippines. And that for me makes all the difference. To a colonized Filipino from the Philippines, the Moros from the South are not worth a damn. I can speak like this because I used to be one of the colonized Filipinos from Luzon. Simply put, the way that we are exposed to Moros is the way the Church colonized the minds of Pinoys.
But my friend said she disagreed with me. She mentioned that she thought that Pinoys can not get their shit together because they are not hosting "The Bayanihan Dance Troupe." If it were Bayanihan, you bet your ass the Pinoys would come out to support. Mainly because Bayanihan can compare with the choreography and the stage production of the Western theaters. The Maguindanao Masters exhibit true Mindanao culture of community music-making and celebration. The audience is part of the show. There is no separation between artists and audience. This makes for a very non-traditional show.
And to that I will agree. I will also agree that most first generation Filipinos from the Philippines do not have the money to spend to go to a show. To a great extent, it is their loss because they will not understand what Filipino culture is about.
To those wondering "what is Filipino culture?", I would answer it by telling them to go and see the Maguindanao Master on April 2, 2006 at Yerba Buena Gardens in San Francisco. Because to one extent, just because you or I fail to describe Filipino culture does not mean that it does not exist.
Fast forward to this weekend's POMO event held by KulArts. In the afternoon of April 1, 2006, a poetry reading was held at Yerba Buena Gardens. The readers were Marianne Villanueva, Jason Bayani, Barbara Reyes, Jason Reyes, and Joel Tan. There were several striking moments at the reading. What follows are my comments.
1. An excellent question asked by an audience member was why did Joel Tan use frank sexuality in his pieces. Joel replied that in anything, you have to put something out. The most basic of all things is one's own body. So, in his writings, he wants to show everyone who he is. One way to do that is to speak about his sexuality.
2. When Marianne Villanueva introduced her writing, she mentioned something odd. She said that in her writing, nothing ever happens. Nothing is ever resolved. I thought, "Then what is the point of your writing?" And after listening to the short story "Silence", Marianne was absolutely telling the truth when she said that nothing ever gets resolved. The two characters end up standing facing each other in silence.
3. Now an audience member who is an academic from Spain but was born in the Philippines (I did not get her name) later on stated a wonderful explanation for why the two writers above write the way they do. Joel and Marianne are creating a discourse between their writing and the previous literary writings of one genre. For Joel, it would be the gay literature. And for Marianne, it would be feminist writing. This explained a lot to me and my slow brain. You write this way because you are not in a vacuum. You are placing yourself in genres.
4. Jason Perez won the most amusing and most original doughnut prize. He wrote about the experience of a 12th grader in high school dealing with the inanities of life. But, the beauty of the writing was in the way in which Jason named the characters / groups in the story. It wasn't just the gang "Satanas;" it was the gang "Pinoy Sons of Satan." Watch out for this writer. He's funny.
5. After the reading, questions and comments were asked from the audience. I was struck by a statement from the audience. A student thanked the speakers for being beacons of light in a world of darkness. It was fantastic to see Filipinos as models of the community. The student went on to lament that he did not have an avenue to express himself at his school. When asked what school he came from, he said "UC Berkeley." This of course piqued my interest because a Pin@y in Berkeley is in short supply. What type of trouble is this kid in?
The readers however were very helpful and pointed out that there are avenues of things to try. There is Maganda magazine on the campus. And here, our hero-student said that "I am trying to break the he-he-hegemonic nature of Berkeley where everyone is white.
Now, having gone to graduate school where there were very few minorities, I was extremely sensitive to this issue. I myself have had some panic attacks when I thought I was not as intelligent as the other students who came from the Ivy League schools. But after much analysis, I realized that those students can be as stupid and dumb as anyone from Berkeley.
But back to our student who could not prounce white hegemony. I was intrigued by this perspicacious youth. After all, to use hegemony, let alone to pronounce it is a painful mission. But lo and behold my surprise when I finally see that the Pin@y student looked white. The thing that instantly popped into my head was "What the hell is his problem? He looks white. If I were him, I would use that to my advantage." Later on, someone also opined that the student could pass as a Caucasian. Let me be clear about this folks, the student is not meztizo looking. I mean he can really be a whiteboy from Georgia.
6. While the SO and I were eating at Naan & Curry, I happened to try and apply what I learned from Tuhan Joe Arriola. Tuhan said that one must stop reacting to things because reaction is a very basic function. What one needs is to be creative when confronted with complex situations. Tuhan was teaching about money matters. But I decided to apply that to life.
In the case of the Berkeley student, I categorize his statements as reaction. He tries out for parts in a play. He is given the bit parts. He wants the main acting part. The central character. But he does not want to be part of the support cast.
As the Spanish academic put it…"One, are you any good? Two, you need to be the best bit part actor. You can't start as the CEO of a company." I translated that to mean…Instead of complaining about the white hegemonic structure of a King Lear play, you should probably play the non-speaking role of the page first.
7. In the evening, the second part of the POMO / KulArts weekend began with a piece by Janet Stickman. In her piece, Janet discussed the child-abuse by a priest. I don't know if it is autobiographical. But, I would say that it is a great example of giving an audience what it wants. Drama about a pertinent topic currently going on in American society. The piece follows a basic business rule. To make money, give the people what they want.
However, at that point, the voice of Tuhan clicked on in my head. His words were "Those beginning their life's journey ask "What do I want?" Those who decide to go into business have figured out that to be successful in business, one needs to give people what they want. But in reality, to help the community and to help people, what is critical is to give people not only what they want, but also what they need.
And I have this wonderful revelation in my head. The readings and performances tonight were on the whole wonderful moments of giving people what they want. But also, to a certain extent, the readings and performances fail because they did not give people what they needed.
At this point, I would like to contrast the ending for Janet Stickman's story / piece and that of Tess Uriza Holthe. Janet's character obtains vengeance against Father Jimmy by naming him to everyone. In revealing his identity as that of a rapist and a molester, she has obtained vengeance for her eight years of silence and non-writing. The character injects Father Jimmy with the same pain and suffering as the character felt. And that is as far as the story goes.
But in Tess' story, the old crone advises the character who was raped to let the pain and suffering go. To let it be washed away by love. Or her fate will be that of the old crone, a bitter life dotted with envy of everyone else's life.
I look at the above paragraphs and realize that Tess' story gives people what they need while Janet's gives people what they want. In a certain way, Tess' story is the more successful story because there is a practical advice at the end of a very painful event.
8. I mention above how examined in one light, one can say that the performances fail in giving people what they need. But how can a person practically give people the things that they need?
One has to be creative. One has to create joy and laughter in the middle of the pain and misery. It shows people that the pain and the misery can pass. One can retell the stories of one's life to others who might be seeking others with whom they can commiserate. And one can break grounds such that white people begin laughing at one's very distinctive Pin@y joke of the barrel man.
One person who did it was Reggie Cabico. Energetic with a philosopher's mind. Poetic in the descriptions of his love affairs. Manic in his impersonations. Utmost misery in dealing with his mother's insecurities. Absolute joy in being a man who loves other men.
Reggie Cabico needs an HBO show. In one scene, he brings out the chocolates. He asked the audience their astrological signs. "Who is Pisces?" Then, he describes that particular love affair. "Pisces. You were the one who introduced me to your mother as your "friend" visiting from the islands. I was the flavor of the month. You left me on the JFK tarmac." [Note: I made the last line up to give you a flavor of his schtick. I was laughing so hard that I forgot what his love stories were.] I did remember that at the end, he asked, "Who's a slut? ….You, the slut do not get candy because you are a one night stand."
9. In this world in which everyone is taught that they are special and that they will do something special in the world, the hardest fall is when you realize just like everyone else that you are only okay. You are average. You will never be stage actor like Sidney Poitier. You will never be the singer like Barbara Streisand. You will never be the hookster who comes back from the dead ala Donald Trump.
The greatest challenge in life is what do you do when you realize that you have to work, earn a living, do things you despise in order to live. Your dreams in childhood dissolve into the ether. If lucky, you are left with education. If unlucky, you are unmarried with a child and a mother to support.
The average everyday people need a change in paradigm. A change in the way they think. A change in their opinions. A change in their decision to lead life. In short measure, what they need from poets, singers, actors and writers is the inspiration to change their life. Average everyday people want the emotion, the drama and the constant pain and suffering. This allows them to tell everyone else that they are special because they are undergoing this process.
But really, is grieving over your relative's death that special? Sooner or later, everyone does it. Everyone's reactions will differ. Some will be guilty that they were not good daughters. Some will be relieved that they are no longer responsible. Some will forever miss the bond. These are the only things that differ. Each person's reaction.
And it is in this that I say that the artist's job is to inspire change in an everyday person's life.
10. I was speaking with a friend of mine about the Maguindanao Masters touring the Unites States. She privately confessed to me her frustration about the lack of support from the Filipino community in bringing the fabulous musicians to the local area. Considering the fact that there is a high number of Filipinos in Los Angeles, San Diego, and God only knows where else in the East Coast, it is still very difficult for the Filipinos to come together and get our shit together.
In my mind, I had to ask the question, "Are the peole organizing these events in other areas born in the Philippines or the US?" The answer inevitably is that they are born in the Philippines. And that for me makes all the difference. To a colonized Filipino from the Philippines, the Moros from the South are not worth a damn. I can speak like this because I used to be one of the colonized Filipinos from Luzon. Simply put, the way that we are exposed to Moros is the way the Church colonized the minds of Pinoys.
But my friend said she disagreed with me. She mentioned that she thought that Pinoys can not get their shit together because they are not hosting "The Bayanihan Dance Troupe." If it were Bayanihan, you bet your ass the Pinoys would come out to support. Mainly because Bayanihan can compare with the choreography and the stage production of the Western theaters. The Maguindanao Masters exhibit true Mindanao culture of community music-making and celebration. The audience is part of the show. There is no separation between artists and audience. This makes for a very non-traditional show.
And to that I will agree. I will also agree that most first generation Filipinos from the Philippines do not have the money to spend to go to a show. To a great extent, it is their loss because they will not understand what Filipino culture is about.
To those wondering "what is Filipino culture?", I would answer it by telling them to go and see the Maguindanao Master on April 2, 2006 at Yerba Buena Gardens in San Francisco. Because to one extent, just because you or I fail to describe Filipino culture does not mean that it does not exist.
Monday, March 20, 2006
Sunday, March 19, 2006
Lino Brocka
When I left the Philippines, Lino Brocka was the leading director of the country. A few weeks ago, I was able to watch the movie Oropronobis. Thinking about it now, the movie was filmed after the Marcos downfall. The film criticized the Philippine government after martial law. I suppose it was because everyone expected that it was Marcos and Marcos alone who was holding the Philippines back. The truth of the matter is that everyone in the PHilippines has a hand in the situation. It was not one dictator alone.
As for Brocka, he died in a car accident. Car accident? After watching Oropronobis, I am thinking of a conspiracy. Put simply, the movie Oropronobis is such a nasty critique of the government that I can imagine a scoundrel ordering Lino's death. Sadly, that can be the way things happen in the Philippines. All it takes is the will.
I have scoured the internet for Oropronobis, but there are no copies of the movie. It should be required viewing for teen-agers and high school students.
As for Brocka, he died in a car accident. Car accident? After watching Oropronobis, I am thinking of a conspiracy. Put simply, the movie Oropronobis is such a nasty critique of the government that I can imagine a scoundrel ordering Lino's death. Sadly, that can be the way things happen in the Philippines. All it takes is the will.
I have scoured the internet for Oropronobis, but there are no copies of the movie. It should be required viewing for teen-agers and high school students.
Cooking
Over the last two weeks, I have gone back to the kitchen with a vengeance. About 1990 to 1995, I was a cooking fiend. I could cook a decent meal with the BBQ sauce on the side and the oven behind me. In fact, I did a Ph.D. on BBQing tri-tip loin. But when my oven went bust, I had to change my life style. I started in on eating spaghettie, bread and other non-oven related foods.
The recent decision to change my eating habits has led to my new activity of cooking. I realized that if I wanted to live to 80 years old, I needed to change the eating habits of Chinese food, red meats, etc, etc. I began to slowly cook with the bok-choy as my first topic. I realized that sautéing the vegetable was pretty easy.
Next, we tried some Indian food. I cooked a chicken curry. Unfortunately, the curry looked good, but I did not have the right mix of curry. So what happened was a good looking curry but tasteless. Back to the drawing board I think.
Today, it was fried chicken. To be truthful though, it started out as chicken BBQ. It's just that I made a mistake of not heating the pan enough. Instead of searing the chicken, I just dried it out. Next time, I will pay more attention.
The recent decision to change my eating habits has led to my new activity of cooking. I realized that if I wanted to live to 80 years old, I needed to change the eating habits of Chinese food, red meats, etc, etc. I began to slowly cook with the bok-choy as my first topic. I realized that sautéing the vegetable was pretty easy.
Next, we tried some Indian food. I cooked a chicken curry. Unfortunately, the curry looked good, but I did not have the right mix of curry. So what happened was a good looking curry but tasteless. Back to the drawing board I think.
Today, it was fried chicken. To be truthful though, it started out as chicken BBQ. It's just that I made a mistake of not heating the pan enough. Instead of searing the chicken, I just dried it out. Next time, I will pay more attention.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Commentators without Blogs
I was going to leave this in Ron Silliman's blog, but did not. I figure, I should hold to my rule. Never discuss anything with people unless they have shown intelligence. Otherwise, you just get mired in shit.
!~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I just went through the comments section looking for blogs so that I can gain an understanding of the demons which plague the posters here.
To be blunt, you all suck. For all the pomposity and grandiosity of the comments, I would have expected rational and tight-knit blogs which discussed things that you hold important and dear. Instead, I am faced with emptiness. The emptiness that resonates in the hollowness of your non-existent blogs. It says so much about the posters, doesn't it?
How can I expect to take you all seriously when I can not even find any interesting material any of you has posted in your blogs?
It is easy to dismiss Filipinos who are bitching and moaning about the injustices of the American system or government. it is easy to tell them to go home. Why don't you read the blogs to understand the logic?
But I'll throw the glove at all of you. You write a blog to examine America and how your poetry matters in this world. Then, leave me a note in my blog after you have filled one year's worth of self-examination and introspection. Maybe then there can be some discussion.
Besides Ron Silliman and Eileen and maybe one or two, no one has really written publicly about their thoughts and their logic. Pure disappointment.
Respectfully yours, Tatang.
!~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I just went through the comments section looking for blogs so that I can gain an understanding of the demons which plague the posters here.
To be blunt, you all suck. For all the pomposity and grandiosity of the comments, I would have expected rational and tight-knit blogs which discussed things that you hold important and dear. Instead, I am faced with emptiness. The emptiness that resonates in the hollowness of your non-existent blogs. It says so much about the posters, doesn't it?
How can I expect to take you all seriously when I can not even find any interesting material any of you has posted in your blogs?
It is easy to dismiss Filipinos who are bitching and moaning about the injustices of the American system or government. it is easy to tell them to go home. Why don't you read the blogs to understand the logic?
But I'll throw the glove at all of you. You write a blog to examine America and how your poetry matters in this world. Then, leave me a note in my blog after you have filled one year's worth of self-examination and introspection. Maybe then there can be some discussion.
Besides Ron Silliman and Eileen and maybe one or two, no one has really written publicly about their thoughts and their logic. Pure disappointment.
Respectfully yours, Tatang.
Studying Caucasians
Bwahahahha. My response for this post.
On Lilac...She said: "IF, this poet desires to continue on in the vicious and ridiculous world of poetry, she had better thicken her skin." I always had difficulty with irony and sarcasm. Which one was Lilac using?
Was Lilac being ironic in her whole demand to be taken off Ron's list? Was she being sarcastic in stating that Ron was being insensitive and naive about Muslims? Because, you know, I have met Muslims. Muslim-Filipinos. They are very different from Lilac. The Muslims I have met are nicer.
I have recently taken to studying white people or caucasians as some would call them. They are a perplexing lot. They seem to have these irrational sexuality and personal issues which get resolved through world dominance and colonization. The amazing part to me is that they are often not very educated about the history of their own country. Even more so, they often take no responsibility for the actions of the American government.
Please continue the bull session as you Americans call it. It is very educational for a colonized mind like me.
On Lilac...She said: "IF, this poet desires to continue on in the vicious and ridiculous world of poetry, she had better thicken her skin." I always had difficulty with irony and sarcasm. Which one was Lilac using?
Was Lilac being ironic in her whole demand to be taken off Ron's list? Was she being sarcastic in stating that Ron was being insensitive and naive about Muslims? Because, you know, I have met Muslims. Muslim-Filipinos. They are very different from Lilac. The Muslims I have met are nicer.
I have recently taken to studying white people or caucasians as some would call them. They are a perplexing lot. They seem to have these irrational sexuality and personal issues which get resolved through world dominance and colonization. The amazing part to me is that they are often not very educated about the history of their own country. Even more so, they often take no responsibility for the actions of the American government.
Please continue the bull session as you Americans call it. It is very educational for a colonized mind like me.
Can't We All Get Along?
As part of diversity training, I watched a movie in which 2 latinos, 2 asians, 2 blacks and 2 caucasians discussed race. What impressed me the most was that the caucasians were truly ignorant of the problems that minorities face. And I have come to believe that most caucasians really are ignorant. Until the day they decide that there is something wrong with American society, their eyes will remain closed. For those who wish to research this further, I suggest Ron Takaki as a starting point. Then look at colonization of Philippines, Cuba, Vietnam, Southeast Asia, Iraq and Afghanistan.
And of course we come to this thread which is nowhere near any flamewar I have seen in the newsgroups of alt.tasteless or soc.culture.filipino. If we all remember the Toastmaster credo "Your opinion is yours and yours alone," we can all get along like Rodney King.
And of course we come to this thread which is nowhere near any flamewar I have seen in the newsgroups of alt.tasteless or soc.culture.filipino. If we all remember the Toastmaster credo "Your opinion is yours and yours alone," we can all get along like Rodney King.
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Work and Evaluations
The past year has been going by too quickly. You must have seen the change in the things that I write. I don't complain as much as I used to complain. I am not as negative as before. The change in work place from the photofinishing store to the law firm has certainly contributed to it. However, I should note that interestingly enough, some people are not happy at the law firm. As to why they are not happy, I will elaborate on later.
Suffice it to say that my evaluation for the year was given to me. And for the first time, I was satisfied. Apparently, for the office, if you get a meets expectation, you are already doing well. I was also told that my name was getting known and getting attention from management as someone who gets things done. I am at the very least ecstatic about some sort of recognition for me. I work hard at the law firm researching and writing and supporting the principals. It's good to know that I am appreciated.
Which of course brings me to two weeks ago when my supervisor and the most senior person in the group went on vacation. I was thrust into the forefront of things. I had hoped for a quiet week, but it was not to be. Certain lawsuits had to be accelerated and said lawsuits were then handed to me.
I did not mind the work, but the fact that it was something not in my area was of concern at first. But after some research in google, I managed to figure out things. And once more, I managed to cope and address the issues. More importantly, I was able to ask my fellow group mates to support and address the other issues which were of primary concern for the management.
As a prize for the way I managed and coped, I bought myself the La Cie d2 DVD burner, which at this very moment is burning away in the computer alcove. I finally managed to figure out how to create DVDs and companion material.
The voyage continues. I now have different goals than when I was an undergraduate or graduate student. Actually, the goal is still the same. To be happy and have the capacity to enjoy life. I have an interesting workplace and I am in the process of trying to get a teaching position somewhere else. I think that would be a good one.
Suffice it to say that my evaluation for the year was given to me. And for the first time, I was satisfied. Apparently, for the office, if you get a meets expectation, you are already doing well. I was also told that my name was getting known and getting attention from management as someone who gets things done. I am at the very least ecstatic about some sort of recognition for me. I work hard at the law firm researching and writing and supporting the principals. It's good to know that I am appreciated.
Which of course brings me to two weeks ago when my supervisor and the most senior person in the group went on vacation. I was thrust into the forefront of things. I had hoped for a quiet week, but it was not to be. Certain lawsuits had to be accelerated and said lawsuits were then handed to me.
I did not mind the work, but the fact that it was something not in my area was of concern at first. But after some research in google, I managed to figure out things. And once more, I managed to cope and address the issues. More importantly, I was able to ask my fellow group mates to support and address the other issues which were of primary concern for the management.
As a prize for the way I managed and coped, I bought myself the La Cie d2 DVD burner, which at this very moment is burning away in the computer alcove. I finally managed to figure out how to create DVDs and companion material.
The voyage continues. I now have different goals than when I was an undergraduate or graduate student. Actually, the goal is still the same. To be happy and have the capacity to enjoy life. I have an interesting workplace and I am in the process of trying to get a teaching position somewhere else. I think that would be a good one.
Clueless Poets
In my previous incarnation as dictator of soc.culture.filipino, I lamented the fact that eventually, white people took over the newsgroup with the tacit approval of the Filipinos. I believe it was some sort of lack of knowledge. The Filipinos in the newsgroup did not understand that there were a limited number of locations in which Filipinos could write, and discuss things. That the point of the newsgroup was to invite other Filipinos to contribute and write and show the world what they thought.
Eventually, the newsgroup transformed from a place where Filipinos could write about their experiences and history into a place where Caucasian husbands of Filipinas could congregate to "learn" about the Philippines. All this with the tacit approval of the Filipinos there. I can not blame the Filipinos now as I did then. I now realize that they were colonized. Not knowing the extent of colonization extended into their mind and personality, they allowed a second time of victimization. This time around, they allowed others to take a place where they could congregate and write and share about their experiences.
I always made it a point to never reply to a white person in soc.culture.Filipino. My logic was that if I wanted to speak to an intelligent, rational and sensible white person, I could find one in Berkeley. And contrary to belief, Berkeley is not all liberal whitewash.
And so we come to the point of this elaboration. Ron Silliman who is phenomenal for his ability to comprehend and understand poetry of various disciplines wrote a review of Barbara Pulmano Reyes' second book Poeta en San Francisco. Refer to the March 6, 2006 entry and the comments that follow for this point.
The wife noted that there was a discussion / flame war going on about the comments in the blog. I could scarcely believe my ears that the participants of said flamewar were Nick Carbo, Eileen Tabios and Leny Strobel. Why these are the luminaries of American literature. What could possibly make them descend from their heavenly seats?
And so it was that I learned that they were fighting the good fight. They were trying to explain to white people, I should add, CLUELESS WHITE PEOPLE, that the Unites States' history is not one of honky-dory all good and niceness. It seemed to me like it was Sisyphus once more giving the rock his attention. For in this world, there is nothing more difficult to change than a person who does not know that they need to change. I should warn the world that if you have a brain, you might want to reduce your brain activity to half. That way, you will not jump into the fray against the CLUELESS POETS.
It is sad to say that Eileen deleted her entries. The SO said that she was posting in three languages, and one of them was Ilocano. I am sure that with the use of two languages, the CLUELESS POETS were already seething. And who can blame them? Most Americans are unable to understand English yet alone a second language. Hell, you can barely expect them to correctly spell the name of a second language. Bwhahaha.
In diversity training, I watched a video in which a white person took 48 hours of intense 9 on 1 attention before he could figure out that there was a problem about race. In my experience, they are totally CLUELESS unless they decide that they need to learn. And so, the fight goes on.
Eventually, the newsgroup transformed from a place where Filipinos could write about their experiences and history into a place where Caucasian husbands of Filipinas could congregate to "learn" about the Philippines. All this with the tacit approval of the Filipinos there. I can not blame the Filipinos now as I did then. I now realize that they were colonized. Not knowing the extent of colonization extended into their mind and personality, they allowed a second time of victimization. This time around, they allowed others to take a place where they could congregate and write and share about their experiences.
I always made it a point to never reply to a white person in soc.culture.Filipino. My logic was that if I wanted to speak to an intelligent, rational and sensible white person, I could find one in Berkeley. And contrary to belief, Berkeley is not all liberal whitewash.
And so we come to the point of this elaboration. Ron Silliman who is phenomenal for his ability to comprehend and understand poetry of various disciplines wrote a review of Barbara Pulmano Reyes' second book Poeta en San Francisco. Refer to the March 6, 2006 entry and the comments that follow for this point.
The wife noted that there was a discussion / flame war going on about the comments in the blog. I could scarcely believe my ears that the participants of said flamewar were Nick Carbo, Eileen Tabios and Leny Strobel. Why these are the luminaries of American literature. What could possibly make them descend from their heavenly seats?
And so it was that I learned that they were fighting the good fight. They were trying to explain to white people, I should add, CLUELESS WHITE PEOPLE, that the Unites States' history is not one of honky-dory all good and niceness. It seemed to me like it was Sisyphus once more giving the rock his attention. For in this world, there is nothing more difficult to change than a person who does not know that they need to change. I should warn the world that if you have a brain, you might want to reduce your brain activity to half. That way, you will not jump into the fray against the CLUELESS POETS.
It is sad to say that Eileen deleted her entries. The SO said that she was posting in three languages, and one of them was Ilocano. I am sure that with the use of two languages, the CLUELESS POETS were already seething. And who can blame them? Most Americans are unable to understand English yet alone a second language. Hell, you can barely expect them to correctly spell the name of a second language. Bwhahaha.
In diversity training, I watched a video in which a white person took 48 hours of intense 9 on 1 attention before he could figure out that there was a problem about race. In my experience, they are totally CLUELESS unless they decide that they need to learn. And so, the fight goes on.
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Freedom In America
As I prepare my papers for naturalization, I am forced to reflect upon how America conducts itself in the current political situation with Iraq. I can only shake my head at the blunders and mistakes that are made by this administration. I am appalled by the lack of intelligence and common sense. And yes, I am worried that maybe I might not be allowed to be naturalized because of what I write. But, is not the true test of being American the ability to write about stuff when there is pressure for you to remain silent?
The current New Yorker issue of Feb 27, 2006 has an article on the stupid and idiotic decision by the Bush cabinet to exempt Taliban captives from the rules of the Geneva convention. Any piss poor schmoe at the liquor store knows this is bullshit. But, the bush administration uses "legal logic" created by John Yoo to substantiate its policy.
And to think, I wanted to be like John Yoo. I figured, here's an intelligent Asian guy who can be a role model. But as I learn about what he has done, I basically marvel at his ability to burn the bill of rights for humans. Forget American constitution, this guy is burning the declaration of the rights for man. Amazing…
Anyway, as I listen to Tuhan's voice, "It’s not the politics you should be concerned about. Are you making money." Cortisol is indeed coursing through my veins right now. And I smile and say that I choose to be happy. But I point my finger at the idiocy of the current administration.
Part of me feels frustrated. The other part just wants to look at the stocks.
The current New Yorker issue of Feb 27, 2006 has an article on the stupid and idiotic decision by the Bush cabinet to exempt Taliban captives from the rules of the Geneva convention. Any piss poor schmoe at the liquor store knows this is bullshit. But, the bush administration uses "legal logic" created by John Yoo to substantiate its policy.
And to think, I wanted to be like John Yoo. I figured, here's an intelligent Asian guy who can be a role model. But as I learn about what he has done, I basically marvel at his ability to burn the bill of rights for humans. Forget American constitution, this guy is burning the declaration of the rights for man. Amazing…
Anyway, as I listen to Tuhan's voice, "It’s not the politics you should be concerned about. Are you making money." Cortisol is indeed coursing through my veins right now. And I smile and say that I choose to be happy. But I point my finger at the idiocy of the current administration.
Part of me feels frustrated. The other part just wants to look at the stocks.
Opportunities
Opportunities
At work, the two senior lawyers are on vacation. However, the senior partners decided that certain issues are to be elevated and closed. I thought of it as a challenge. A way of thinking in fact. A change in my thinking. Someone said "How can you be so calm?" The mind is the key. I am stressed, but you do your best. You keep timetables. You request and request again.
I breathe and breathe again. I do my training and I balance. This is the key. Their needs are just as important as mine.
I also pulled in the other group members. This has certainly made it easier on me. They also get valuable training in how to do their job on the stress factor of high. Most joke about the supervisor being on vacation . They joke that this was a conspiracy and that they planned it. I don't believe it. I believe that this is just the plan.
I achieved team leadership skills by pulling cross-functional members into a cohesive project team by virtual internet. No meeting. Wow.
Did I mention that these issues were only given this Monday? Yup, we're doing well. Pat on the back. For this I deserve a prize. Maybe those hiking boots.
At work, the two senior lawyers are on vacation. However, the senior partners decided that certain issues are to be elevated and closed. I thought of it as a challenge. A way of thinking in fact. A change in my thinking. Someone said "How can you be so calm?" The mind is the key. I am stressed, but you do your best. You keep timetables. You request and request again.
I breathe and breathe again. I do my training and I balance. This is the key. Their needs are just as important as mine.
I also pulled in the other group members. This has certainly made it easier on me. They also get valuable training in how to do their job on the stress factor of high. Most joke about the supervisor being on vacation . They joke that this was a conspiracy and that they planned it. I don't believe it. I believe that this is just the plan.
I achieved team leadership skills by pulling cross-functional members into a cohesive project team by virtual internet. No meeting. Wow.
Did I mention that these issues were only given this Monday? Yup, we're doing well. Pat on the back. For this I deserve a prize. Maybe those hiking boots.
Tuesday, February 28, 2006
Tanjia
One of the restaurants that the SO has found is Tanjia on Telegraph Avenue in Oakland CA. If you look at it from the outside, you probably would not even enter the building. After all, there are no neon signs to attract you. The paint on the building is chipping away and the neighborhood looks sketchy. That is why I never thought of going to this place. But the SO has tastebuds to fulfill and satisfy, so off we went.
As you enter, you are greeted by a tent that has been pitched to cover the entire room. Yup, it's a big tent. You can not see the walls or any of the dining section. It's one big tent. The chairs are little ottomans that you sit in. If you are lucky, you can sit on the benches by the wall. If you sit on the ottoman, remember to move around for the rest of the evening to get the blood circulating. Otherwise, at the end of the evening, you might be paralyzed.
The food is delectable. You eat with your hands but you can ask for forks. The meat falls off the bone. It has to since you eat with your hands. Whenever we go, we try to just order something that we have never ordered before. Actually, most of the food is served family style in one big platter. For the last dinner with my brother, we ordered the "Kingly Paradise" menu, for a minimum of three people.
We were served the hot and tasty lentil soup. Very good with the right balance of salt. And, if you dipped your bread in it, Whala!!! Dinner by itself. I almost forgot to mention that with the bread, you get a small platter of bread spreadables - eggplant, carrots, cous-cous or hummus. But the soup was followed by the filo dough with chicken. I thought that this was a dessert because of the powdered sugar that was placed on top of the baked dough. But again, it was really good with the mixture of the soft meat and the crunchy baked dough. Up next was the platter.
The platter had beef shish-kabob, seafood section with shrimp cooked in garlic, a vegetable section with carrots, a chicken, and some lamb. As the SO would say, it was GYNORMOUS.
But that was not the only highlight of the evening. There was also a bellydancing. For me, it has been hard to look at bellydancing. It is so sexual. But looking at it now, I realize that just with any other dance, it is an art form. Our bellydancer was a mid-thirtysomething Caucasian woman who danced well. In fact, the SO actually danced belly dancing with her at the end. It was hilarious. The SO wanted me to dance, but how could I? I was in the middle flanked by the brother and the SO. Hahahaha. The dancer also asked my brother to dance, but he was a little too shy about that.
One of the more difficult dances was the sword dance in which she balances a sword on top of her head and moves around. I had previously seen this dance and it was very difficult. The one that I saw had the dancer spinning. I don't even know how she did that one.
So if you are in the bay area, go to Tanjia. You will not be disappointed.
Tanjia
4905 Telegraph Avenue
Oakland, CA (California) 94609-2011
Phone: (510) 653-8691
As you enter, you are greeted by a tent that has been pitched to cover the entire room. Yup, it's a big tent. You can not see the walls or any of the dining section. It's one big tent. The chairs are little ottomans that you sit in. If you are lucky, you can sit on the benches by the wall. If you sit on the ottoman, remember to move around for the rest of the evening to get the blood circulating. Otherwise, at the end of the evening, you might be paralyzed.
The food is delectable. You eat with your hands but you can ask for forks. The meat falls off the bone. It has to since you eat with your hands. Whenever we go, we try to just order something that we have never ordered before. Actually, most of the food is served family style in one big platter. For the last dinner with my brother, we ordered the "Kingly Paradise" menu, for a minimum of three people.
We were served the hot and tasty lentil soup. Very good with the right balance of salt. And, if you dipped your bread in it, Whala!!! Dinner by itself. I almost forgot to mention that with the bread, you get a small platter of bread spreadables - eggplant, carrots, cous-cous or hummus. But the soup was followed by the filo dough with chicken. I thought that this was a dessert because of the powdered sugar that was placed on top of the baked dough. But again, it was really good with the mixture of the soft meat and the crunchy baked dough. Up next was the platter.
The platter had beef shish-kabob, seafood section with shrimp cooked in garlic, a vegetable section with carrots, a chicken, and some lamb. As the SO would say, it was GYNORMOUS.
But that was not the only highlight of the evening. There was also a bellydancing. For me, it has been hard to look at bellydancing. It is so sexual. But looking at it now, I realize that just with any other dance, it is an art form. Our bellydancer was a mid-thirtysomething Caucasian woman who danced well. In fact, the SO actually danced belly dancing with her at the end. It was hilarious. The SO wanted me to dance, but how could I? I was in the middle flanked by the brother and the SO. Hahahaha. The dancer also asked my brother to dance, but he was a little too shy about that.
One of the more difficult dances was the sword dance in which she balances a sword on top of her head and moves around. I had previously seen this dance and it was very difficult. The one that I saw had the dancer spinning. I don't even know how she did that one.
So if you are in the bay area, go to Tanjia. You will not be disappointed.
Tanjia
4905 Telegraph Avenue
Oakland, CA (California) 94609-2011
Phone: (510) 653-8691
Sunday, February 26, 2006
Marcos, the Great Dictator
A lot of Pin@ys just don't realize how good Marcos was. Examine what is going on in the Philippines, and you will realize incompetence. From the government that is continuously fumbled by Gloria Arroyo to the rebel leaders in the military who can not have a coup attempt without everyone knowing it, the Philippines is in a sad state of affairs indeed.
When Marcos declared martial law, he bribed all the military to go with him. He even got them Rolex watches to commemorate the deed. 31 silver dollars? No way! We are talking synchronized watches!
Which lead me to point out that one of teh problems of society is that we no longer have professional rebels, leaders, whatever! All we have are wishy-washy politicans and rebels who can't decide whether to go for the gold or try to get a certificate of merit.
Hoy! Pilipinas! Bumangon ka! Kunin mo yung mga magagaling! Ibalik ninyo sila musa sa Saudi!!!!
When Marcos declared martial law, he bribed all the military to go with him. He even got them Rolex watches to commemorate the deed. 31 silver dollars? No way! We are talking synchronized watches!
Which lead me to point out that one of teh problems of society is that we no longer have professional rebels, leaders, whatever! All we have are wishy-washy politicans and rebels who can't decide whether to go for the gold or try to get a certificate of merit.
Hoy! Pilipinas! Bumangon ka! Kunin mo yung mga magagaling! Ibalik ninyo sila musa sa Saudi!!!!
Christening and Baptism
Yesterday was the baptism of the twin nieces. I was not there for the baptism of the first one. No money and no time and too much stress on the job, if you can believe that. Now, with my newfound outlook on the way things work, HAHAHAHA.
The baptism was held at St. Leo in Oakland. The church allowed for private baptisms. I suppose that there are not that many parishioners here as anywhere else. In other places, there are mass baptisms. Ten to twelve families are present. Imagine…. with Pin@y ninongs and ninangs, that is a ton of people!
It's my second go round as a ninong. The first was in the Philippines when I was barely in my teens, maybe 12 or 13. Now for the second go round, I am hopefully wiser and smarter.
Lunch was served at East-West Ocean Seafood restaurant in Alameda, where the food is great and plentiful. That is where my wedding banquet the evening before was held. The menu on the books were shrimp with mayo, broccoli beef, chow mein, peking duck, spicy chicken, and fried rock cod fish.
Afterwards, we trekked to the SO's parent's house to regroup as the parents of the twins went off to money group.
I took care of the nieces. One of them C was crying a whole lot. I ended up placing her on her chair and then singing to her. That calmed her down for a few moments. But later on, hunger got the best of her. Only milk was the pacifier. The other twin V I managed to feed some milk. It was funny because she knew exactly that it was food. She grabbed the bottle as much as a six-month old baby could grab. Bwahahahha. "Give me that uncle!" And E the eldest, I ended up changing her diapers. That was a true sign of love I tell you!
I also continued with my experience of speaking with Caucasians to get rid of my colonized mind. I realized that one does not have to fear them. One can only try to understand them. So in that vein, I spoke and "hosted" Bob the father of my brother-in-law. A very interesting man who taught for 37 years at Marquette in Wisconsin.
For dinner, it was off to Fenton's where the food was ice cream and the portions were great.
The baptism was held at St. Leo in Oakland. The church allowed for private baptisms. I suppose that there are not that many parishioners here as anywhere else. In other places, there are mass baptisms. Ten to twelve families are present. Imagine…. with Pin@y ninongs and ninangs, that is a ton of people!
It's my second go round as a ninong. The first was in the Philippines when I was barely in my teens, maybe 12 or 13. Now for the second go round, I am hopefully wiser and smarter.
Lunch was served at East-West Ocean Seafood restaurant in Alameda, where the food is great and plentiful. That is where my wedding banquet the evening before was held. The menu on the books were shrimp with mayo, broccoli beef, chow mein, peking duck, spicy chicken, and fried rock cod fish.
Afterwards, we trekked to the SO's parent's house to regroup as the parents of the twins went off to money group.
I took care of the nieces. One of them C was crying a whole lot. I ended up placing her on her chair and then singing to her. That calmed her down for a few moments. But later on, hunger got the best of her. Only milk was the pacifier. The other twin V I managed to feed some milk. It was funny because she knew exactly that it was food. She grabbed the bottle as much as a six-month old baby could grab. Bwahahahha. "Give me that uncle!" And E the eldest, I ended up changing her diapers. That was a true sign of love I tell you!
I also continued with my experience of speaking with Caucasians to get rid of my colonized mind. I realized that one does not have to fear them. One can only try to understand them. So in that vein, I spoke and "hosted" Bob the father of my brother-in-law. A very interesting man who taught for 37 years at Marquette in Wisconsin.
For dinner, it was off to Fenton's where the food was ice cream and the portions were great.
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