raid

they unlock the secrets of the nucleus
and threaten to obliterate the world
they swear allegiance to their country
and institute Holocaust
they unmask the terrorizing enemy
and reveal their very face
now, see their iron fist
bleeding our pockets dry,
savaging our muted kind,
condemning our lonely lives.
they are short of castigating us
for the tsunamis, heatstrokes, mudslides
wherein people died
without prior notice.
desperate to strike a world balance,
they raid the margins
for we multiply
without giving birth.
even at their resounding failures,
they won’t let us take over the earth.

coming out means never having to say i'm sorry

coming out and saying sorry have become leitmotifs in my stranger-than-fiction life since sunday, and it seems to me there's some tinge of truth that what one does on the first day of the week is sustained throughout the rest of it.
on the way to manila, the search for tupig for gorgeous is no less than the quest for the proverbial holy grail. owing to the fact that i slept around 4 a.m. after a lively reunion with high school classmates, i woke up with the 9 a.m. sunlight brushing against my face and, in the process, missed purchasing the coconut strips-laced, banana leaf-wrapped native deli in the local market. i never got disheartened even when the warek-warek-selling mother of my classmate told me, "barok, never lose hope; there are lots of tupig...in carmen." i never mentioned to her that i was not on the way to baguio via that junction in rosales, pangasinan but in fact, traveling the opposite direction that’s the glittering metropolis. she propped up her consolation by offering me for free the mouth-watering ilocano counterpart of pampango sisig. from nueva ecija, i scoured nearby tarlac for that suman-like roasted delicacy. i heaved a sigh of relief when alas, at paniqui town, i found three tupig peddlers who have yet to sell half their items at already-late 11 a.m. hay, naku, mga manang, do you ever know how thankful i am to the heavens for your reliability just when the progress of my love life depends on this ambrosia? even at the hubbub and fishy smell of the public market, i ecstatically texted miss zenkit, complete with my baklese introductory reference to her as “bathaluman ng kagandahan,” about my laborious search for but eventual finding of tupig “for yulo my love.” in what is a terrible twist of freudian slip, i missent the message to the person i mentioned in the text intended for zenkit. ooops, houston, we have a problem—no amount of banging and shaking of the mobile phone would prevent the message from calling the attention of my unknowing beloved seated at his busy workstation at the shimmering international airport. i immediately transmitted gorgeous my apology, citing that it’s too late to cancel the missent text, and would he please ignore its content?
tuesday night when i got to see him, i braced for myself for whatever scene he would create: “you deserve this spanking, you shameless opportunist!” “how could you betray my friendliness to you?” “why didn’t you tell me soon so i could raise my ‘you’re busted’ placard for all the bar goers to see?” while madonna sang her fresh disco single “sorry” over the airwaves, he came up to me, scintillating eyes, welcoming arms and smile the sweetness of sugar apple, and remarked, “how’s your vacation? mukhang nangayayat ka sa kakabiyahe.” way past midnight, he thanked me for the delectable tupig he feasted on en route to his workplace, but i was more grateful that my accidental romantic confession is out in the open and the object of my affection isn’t the least bothered. then again, superstars like him are accustomed to being admired, so crazy fans like me are a part of his celebrity norm.
the following day, i met ma’am fely, a young professor of mine back in college, for two things: i’m lending her a critical reader that included michel foucault, and she was to make a comment on the poems i posted in my friendster blogspot. ooops, houston, we have another problem—is it the appropriate time to come out of my closet? for good measure, i have to reread my weblogs to check the substance more than the form, and the only controversial element in the poems seems the homoerotic overture. ma’am noted that, well, my poetry is worth being anthologized for its polished structure; for a literary coach with a midas’ touch to say so was sufficient to make me float, and i have to thank her a million times over as i did a few years before when she helped me win in an inter-university essay writing competition. and then, the bomb: why is the tone too dense, too un-little gapanese? I believe that ma’am was particularly alluding to the blasphemous poem “apocrypha,” so come out i did and defended that the gloomy atmosphere i painted in most poems represents the bleak, sad lives of gays at-large. in essence, i was speaking in behalf of the sisterhood which have yet to gain recognition and acceptance from the patriachal society. i said i was sorry if she felt she was had, and consequently unveiled the true identities of the two persons whom i called by the innocuous, genderless term palangga. Ma’am, meet my first palangga, preyoverknight; two years after him is my palangga of about a year, hansam. she asked if i was confused, to which i replied that i was confused only with my distressfully coexistent spirituality and homosexuality which seem to need to cancel out each other in my system. when the grilling was over and ma’am reassured me that it was the best decision to make, i thought of the very source of my literary inspiration, he who said i should not be apologetic about the things that i am, namely my poetry and homosexuality.

a trojan war inside my ribcage

after imitating a fugitive by frantically touring provinces in central luzon country (my hometowns nueva ecija and tarlac, and their neighboring pampanga), i was officially back to the urban jungle that's aplenty with ravishing male forms. this state of belongingness i confirmed when i dropped by a mall to meet a boylet and whoa, beauties flourished like newly-sprung flowers in the midst of manila wreck. hunks here, cuties there, and a slew of gender-bending males rendered my gaydar on red alert. since the guy i was bringing pasalubong to is a pretty, pretty babe, i had to restrain myself from creating extra effort to look more attractive to other pamintas than i should. why, i don't wanna jeopardize the deepening interest i generate from troy.
yeah, troy's the also-ran to my biggest crush for the time being. his name is enough to make one recognize the ill-fated asia minor city associated to the mythical beauty of helen. i just wish that this angelic face is not so vicious to me or any admirer as to prepare his fans' club to wage among ourselves an epic battle by the polluted manila bay. notwithstanding his lack of height (he’s a couple of inches short of my ideal 5’8” tall guy), he is fit to become my third boyfriend: he is boyish looking, he is good-natured, he is smart, and he is an ilonggo from capiz. well, the mention of that visayan province reputed to be the lair of viscera suckers does not make me flinch, although paranoid people might already be fearing for my future as sacrificial food for the aswangs. if i must refute that the magnificent capizeños have homegrown vampires in their midst, this falsity was used by the colonizing spaniards in order to swing the natives’ faith to the catholic friars from the mystical babaylanes, whose powers (to transform into asu-asuan, among other evils) allegedly originate from the devil.
if there is something diabolic about troy, i must say it is his uncanny good looks which lesser mortals like the rest of us will envy to death. the hiligaynon-speaking capizeño resembles the mr. university i had a crush on five years ago, boyish countenance and all. if not for troy’s charming binisaya lilt while he’s narrating to me how his eyewear company bag got stashed of a few thousand bucks, his other mobile phone and an eyeglass frame which he would have to pay through salary deduction, i would have taken him for the straight jp gone macho gay.
i know of two other troys who share the same extraordinary allure: troy montero of the local showbiz and troy, my ertswhile boyfriend sam’s hotter brother. troy the celebrity stirred quite a ruckus the first time he and his vj brother kc hugged the philippine media limelight. praises for him ran from the simple, orgasmic “oh!” to “he looks like he sprang straight from a laboratory experiment!” however, following the same fate as those of other imported fil-somethings who never got to master the native tongue, he is now a has-been even before he made it really big in modeling, acting, hosting, dancing, singing and, of late, in undressing to show off his rather aging body in skimpy briefs.
meanwhile, the hotter brother of my second beau is as tantalizing as troy the artist. the first time sam brought me home to introduce as his friend (much to my relief under the pains of being thrown into kanlaon volcano if sam so much as acquaint me to his family in la castellana, negros occidental as his lover), the half-naked troy (upper extremities…okay?) so mesmerized me that i almost groveled on the floor in reverence. if sam is the ilonggo version of elijah wood, troy is the ilonggo gabby concepcion. while resisting gallons of drool from spilling off my mouth, i wondered why the buff brother did not even put on his shirt even at my paminta presence. the answer revealed itself when he moved toward the fridge and drew out the cabbage he’d mince for dinner. hmm, dieting; he must have just wrestled against the gym equipment before we lovers arrived. i looked about and discovered a photocopied book which troy perused at the moment: mitch albom’s tuesdays with morrie. the guy reads! that makes him more intense than sam for me or for any literature major for that matter. i would go on to gift troy ravelstein by nobel laureate saul bellow, but then i likewise gave sam the sun also rises by another nobel laureate ernest hemingway if only for my ex-boyfriend not to suspect that i was a gift-bearing greek out to pillage the fuentebella genealogy. good that troy seemed straight, for i cannot imagine myself doing an ina raymundo in the gay film version of jeffrey jetturian’s tuhog with the comely negrense brothers as my leading men.

evat: not the solution to the improvement of our welfare

According to official figures released last June 2005, the Philippines' external debt has reached a total of $56 billion though the Asian Development Bank claims in fact that it passed the $63 billion mark in 2003. In order to speed up the payment of this debt, the Philippine government has implemented Republic Act 9337 or the VAT Reform Law. Also known as the Expanded Value Added Tax (E-VAT), the law allows the government to widen the tax on goods and services subjected to VAT. Although the imposition of E-VAT would bring possible benefits to the country in the future, this is not the best and only way to mend the country’s economy because it has adverse effects to the lives of most Filipinos and there are still alternatives for the government to raise its revenues without demanding the people’s money.
The VAT Reform Law is actually a modification of the various VAT laws that preceded it. In the previous years, there were adapted laws related to VAT such as the “cost deduction method” in the year 1939. There was also the “tax credit method” and other presidential decrees that followed concerning on finance management and taxation. But effective 1988, by virtue of Executive Order 273, all percentage sales were replaced by the Value-Added tax in order to have a supposedly more organized and effective system of tax collection. The VAT system was created to add a particular percentage to the existing tax rate of a particular product. For example, if the tax rate of a certain commodity is 4% of its price, the government will add the value of 6% to parallelize it to the 10% value stated in the National Internal Revenue Code. Thus, the implementation of the VAT system hopes to make consumption of tax more equitable and within the means of each consumer group and, at the same time, to raise government revenue. The income collected would then be used for infrastructures and for public services. If successful, it can boost our economic standing and pave way for an economically progressive Philippines in the future. Apart from this, the government also vowed to guarantee that the money indeed proceeds to the national treasury to avoid cases of tax evasion. However, it has been observed over the years since 1988 that the implementation of the VAT system did not really have a notable increase in the government’s revenue.
As discussed above, the imposition of the EVAT is not the best and only way to generate more income for the country because by doing so, the government will accelerate the rate of poverty of the Filipinos and will also aggravate the plight of low-class consumers. Instead, the government should focus on the three causes of the budget deficit in the first place: tax evasion, corruption in the government, and high expenditure and salaries of government-owned and controlled corporations, known as GOCCs. It has already been known to the people for some time now that these anomalies are very rampant in the country today. However, little has been done to remedy or implement a law that will solve such increasingly alarming problems.
Last November 1, 2005, RA 9337 was implemented by the Philippine government, expanding the VAT coverage. Products and services previously unaffected but now covered by E-VAT are as follows: petroleum products, power and electricity, non-food agricultural products and even doctors’ and lawyers’ fees. Barely four months after the EVAT was implemented, consumers have already begun to feel the impact with the increase of prices, even those of the basic commodities. Restaurants have raised their VAT charge. Likewise, product prices in groceries shot out of proportions and consumers are already being bled dry of their hard-earned peso. There is no question that E-VAT would definitely have an effect on every Filipino consumer however little or tremendous this may be. As a consolation, according to the Department of Finance, the E-VAT is most likely to have a greater impact on the rich rather than the poor because those belonging in the higher-income groups, which purchase more than the lower-income groups, are the ones to pay the most VAT. However, this is opposite the case because according to World Bank, citizens who do not save are more sensitive to sudden changes in the economy for they do not have enough money set aside for emergencies. Research conducted by World Bank revealed that the Philippines has one of the lowest domestic savings rate in the whole world. The rich may be paying a larger sum of taxes but unlike the poor, they can afford to pay the extra money because it is only a tiny percentage of the actual wealth that they possess. Another support is that tax exemptions only cover the final product, so it does not include costs in manufacturing the product such as transportation and electricity. Prices of basic commodities will still increase despite the VAT exemption placed upon them and because of this, more and more people will be unable to afford basic needs especially the poor, the expenditure having to take away the smallest chunk that the poor could hardly even afford. While the government is singing its glorious hosannas regarding the initial positive after-effects of E-VAT such as stronger peso, the very grassroots of the social ladder hardly feel the improvement, and confess that they seem hungrier and more deprived than ever.
According to the National Tax Research (NTRC), the government could have earned P84.5 billion more each year between 1988 and 2002 if there was a more strict and effective tax collection system. In the year 2003, only 50-60% of the total taxes supposed to be paid were actually collected. It has also been a common knowledge that a high percentage of the citizens of the country evade their taxes. Nevertheless, according to the BIR Deputy commissioner, there has only been one person successfully convicted of tax evasion. This has something to do with how the Philippine judicial system is being managed. It is not because we lack laws but rather how these laws lack proper enforcement. In the case of corruption, there are actually two issues that are in line. First point: although the government acknowledges EVAT as “un-evadable” because the buyer would be paying for the product and tax simultaneously, this only prevents tax evasion from the consumers’ side but does not ensure that the tax collected would go straight to the government's coffers. Second point: the Philippines would not be drowning in debt right now if our government officials have conscientiously been honest and trustworthy. It has been lamented in the survey of Political and Economic Risk Consultancy Ltd. (PERC) that our country ranks number two from among the most corrupt countries in Asia. The country should have been enjoying a surplus of money instead of a budget deficit if those government officials had thought of the effect of their administrative misdeeds to the country. I find it ironic that the government is pushing the people to pay foreign debt through the EVAT when in reality, graft and corruption in the government is one of the major reasons why we are currently experiencing a budget deficit.
We may not at all know but an immense amount of money of the country goes to the expenditures of the government owned and controlled corporations (GOCCs) and the salaries of government officials. For instance, the National Power Corporation (NAPOCOR) was solely the cause of the P1.3 trillion external debt of the country. Because of the mismanagement, the government had to pay P371 billion as interest for the debt that originated from the sustenance of NAPOCOR. Junket trips also take up much of the government’s budget. Just recently, tax payers spent P1,517,904.00 for six congressmen’s trip to the Las Vegas to watch the Manny Pacquiao fight. The legislators justify that it is their duty to support and cheer the Filipino boxing champion even at the expense of using the country’s money.
Majority of the Filipinos have paid the 10% tax levied on their purchases brought about by recently implemented Extended Value-Added Tax. Also, majority have felt, in one way or another, the taxation's strains on daily living expenses plus long term investments. Although it has benefits, such as the payment of our foreign debt, the implementation of the EVAT is not the best and only way to improve the economy of the Philippines because it has adverse effects on the livelihood of the Filipinos, such as an increase in the rate of poverty and the negative effects on the local businesses, and there are alternatives that will also yield a hefty amount of money for the country, such as effecting a cutback on evaders and corrupt government officials. In a general appraisal, the boon effected by the imposition of E-VAT is far outweighed by the bane it creates at the expense of the greater mass of consumers who have disturbingly scarcer access to basic necessities.
Lastly, all will go well only if there is an honest collection of taxes, a tight watch on government officials, and strict punishment for the corrupt tax collectors.
Now, it is just a matter of choice how the Arroyo administration will handle that.

be my world, for ever after

before i left for nueva ecija to resume my vacation, i had to succumb to my habit of going online. i usually do this in order to chat up people, check e-mails, upload literary works or edit papers. this time, i had to surf the net for the lyrics of house music, especially those chillout songs i was accustomed to hearing as background in the blue bar i frequent. it was amazing that a number of my former students like some of these songs too, so when i hear them singing some lines or listen to these songs in their i-pods, i come to think: what if they discover that in one part or another of this urban jungle, the songs are actually being used as backdrop for cruising gay guys? four songs have become my personal favorite for the homosexual overtures (three of which are, in fact, in my phone as mp3 downloaded items) and i'm pasting them here to share them to you:
flying away (moony)
I wake up
I wash my face and go
here’s another day, I'm sure
I'll fight for what I love
and my music keeps going on
my heart begins to beat
and my music keeps going on
it makes my life complete
I’m flying away, I'm flying away
I’m flying away, I'm flying away
It's the sound I cannot live without
as the rhythm goes, I’m sure
my soul will never pause
and my music keeps going on
it opens up my eyes
and my music keeps going on
'cause one day I was blind
I’m flying away,
I'm flying away
I’m flying away,
I'm flying away
I'm flying...
I'm flying away


ever after (bonnie bailey)
Three years ago, our journey began
Chasing down this cure, no plan in hand
Just your pulse, my racing guide in the dark
Just knowing with conviction from the start
The moment your eyes made an introduction
I felt my second violent breath of life
Flawless to the point of being godly
Yet I fell hard for your imperfections
And now we're slightly weathered, we're slightly worn
Our hands grip together, eye to eye through the storm, yet
I still believe in ever after with you, yeahhhhh
Cuz life is a pleasure with you by my side,
And there ain't no current in this river we can't ride
I still believe in ever after with you
Nothing compares to the good times
Feels like we're floating, when the rest have to climb
You made me believe in love, and not the perfect kind
A real messy beautiful twisted sunshine
Emotions, volcanic eruptions
We both still care, so we're still alive
Tunnel vision, determination
I want you, I want to make it right
And now we're slightly weathered, we're slightly worn
Our hands grip together, eye to eye through the storm, yet
I still believe in ever after with you, yeahhhhh
Cuz life is a pleasure with you by my side,
And there ain't no current in this river we can't ride
I still believe in ever after with you
You are my twisted sunshine
You are my twisted sunshine[2x]
And now we're slightly weathered, we're slightly worn
Our hands grip together, eye to eye through the storm, yet
I still believe in ever after with you, yeahhhhh
Cuz life is a pleasure with you by my side,
And there ain't no current in this river we can't ride
I still believe in ever after with you


dove (moony)
Why can't he give her his love
No more again
Tears on her face, the dove
She cries, she knows
She won't be able to fly
Away from him
She'll look a red rose in the spring
No she won't be able to sing
Songs of love
I'll open up my heart
I'll be loving you forever and ever
I'll be part of you
In the way I do
Come into my life so I can sing
And if she questions the sun
Why, why me
The sun doesn't answer
Oh God, can you help me
The answer is easy my love
You've built your own jail
You've always been part of the sky
So why d'you keep staying by his side
Away from me
I'll open up my heart
I'll be loving you forever and ever
I'll be part of you
In the way I do
Come into my life so I can sing
I'll be loving you forever and ever
I'll be part of you
In the way I do
Come into my life so I can sing
She's a white dove
An angel in disguise
She fell in love with the man
But this man won't give back her love
So this is her cry
This is her cry
This is her cry
I'll open up my heart
I'll be loving you forever and ever
I'll be part of you
In the way I do
Come into my life so I can sing
I'll be loving you forever and ever
I'll be part of you
In the way I do
Come into my life so I can sing
I'll be loving you forever and ever
I'll be part of you
In the way I do
Come into my life so I can sing
Why can't he give her his love
No more again
Tears on her face, the dove
She cries, she knows
She won't be able to fly
Away from him
She'll look a red rose in the spring
No she won't be able to sing
Songs of love
I'll open up my heart
I'll be loving you forever and ever
I'll be part of you
In the way I do
Come into my life so I can sing
And if she questions the sun
Why, why me
The sun doesn't answer
Oh God, can you help me
The answer is easy my love
You've built your own jail
You've always been part of the sky
So why d'you keep staying by his side
Away from me
I'll open up my heart
I'll be loving you forever and ever
I'll be part of you
In the way I do
Come into my life so I can sing
I'll be loving you forever and ever
I'll be part of you
In the way I do
Come into my life so I can sing
She's a white dove
An angel in disguise
She fell in love with the man
But this man won't give back her love
So this is her cry
This is her cry
This is her cry
I'll open up my heart
I'll be loving you forever and ever
I'll be part of you
In the way I do
Come into my life so I can sing
I'll be loving you forever and ever
I'll be part of you
In the way I do
Come into my life so I can sing
I'll be loving you forever and ever
I'll be part of youIn the way I do
Come into my life so I can sing


be my world (milky)
Na na na na na..........
na na na na na..........
All alone that's me in many troubles
I need you now to be close to me
There's a world runnin' round run in circle
I don't know how it would be
Uh, I'm starving without your loving
with your kisses you can fill me now
Uh, come closer don't wait a minute
you are the end come on and be my world
Na na na na na..........
na na na na na..........
And I love to watch you when you're walking alone
but there's nothing I can say to make you feel the same way
All I see is a face in the mirror
I fall into emotion pull me out of time
Na na na na na..........
na na na na na..........
Uh, I'm starving without your loving
Uh, come closer don't wait a minute
you are the end come on and be my world
Na na na na na..........
na na na na na..........

the political virgin

in the swirl of humid afternoon and on separate beds (the sight of a straight woman and a gay on the same bed will likely bring on a rain of locust), my friend jangeum and i tackled the sensitive issue of virginity--this despite myself, definitely not the last gay virgin on the face of the earth. she pondered why men keep on lurking in the darkness of anachronism by resolving to bed virgin women only as much as possible. i told her what i gathered somewhere that the concept of virginity is tied up to that of a territory to be conquered. virgin conquest fuels men's macho pride, which suggests that devirginized women become less their worth once they have their cherry popped. i argue that women or men for that matter, be they straight or gay, do not cease to become persons should they get it on the first time. they must not be reduced to being objects or terrains to be had, since no one can ever own anyone. besides, these unenlightened men cannot even preserve their own virginity, so why institute a double social standard? of course men, even as they're already as laspag as well-worn slippers, can always effect as if they're getting their sexual baptism of fire.
so this is one reason why lately, i'm breaking my promise to receive clothes only and not to purchase them, and i refreshed my activism by picking in the mall a bodyhugging shirt with a provocative imprint that reads "virgin." actually, it's the trademark of a brand of cola that's yet again imported from the land of multinational capitalism, but a suggestive shirt with such an imprint is an excellent public relations agent about the kind (what kind?) of politicized person that i am. i bought it along with the brokeback mountain-stirred cowboy hat that i gave to my gym instructor as birthday gift. what i received in return, i have to leave you guessing, but i already donned the shirt on his birthday in order to torment him about the better item that the "virgin" shirt was.
after my gym instructor's party, i proceeded to see gorgeous because i could not bear to miss him for more than a week, my romantic chances be damned because of the erotically suggestive shirt i wore. at the gym, i sat like a snail in repose until i saw hunk, who said his pakner in crime was upstairs, "nakasalang." visions of gorgeous getting his rocks off boiled me in heart-wrenching jealousy, but what the hey, you have no right, whispered phil collins in my ears crimsoned by envy. my heart leaped when hunk made a mistake, for i saw gorgeous descend from the videoke room, a dragon impressed in his own bodyhugging shirt. i did not come up to him to ask what's dragon-like in him, but i did call him as if i were juliet seeing romeo at the benighted veranda. after an eternity of planet-stopping talk with the charming guy, i bade him goodbye for that was all i wanted: to be with gorgeous even just for a while to complete my week.
at the exit counter, i was trafficked by the grinning gym owners to comment on the "virgin" shirt. "you haven't lost your virginity yet?" they queried, to which i replied feeling like a miriam defensor in miriam quiambao's body: "the imprint's a political statement." yeah, it goes in the same double-entendre league as my bodyhugging clothes with innuendoes that say "mean people suck; nice people swallow" or "sin city" but not with other people's downright nasty "certified sex instructor" or "puta" shirts. i wonder where i could find shirts that scream "pornstar," "eat meat" or "100% pure milk." the ideology-infused answer seemed to rattle the owners, but i did not launch into a political dissertation for fear of rippling an ibong adarna syndrome wherein the listeners will metamorphose into lifeless marbles after listening to my soporific song.
while i and the owners conversed about other topics, hunk and gorgeous were walking toward our direction to leave the place. i ogled at gorgeous, who murmured a very sexy "goodbye." i returned his goodbye, and noticed his shirt's potent dragon, which ultimately caused me to lose my virginal brain faculties anew.

immaculate conception, gay version

i had to rise earlier than usual because my straight best friend arnel and i needed to have our blood tested at the hospital. it might occur to you that i must have been praying all night long, bargaining with god not to infest me with the as-yet incurable human immunodeficiency virus. while i admit to being wakened up at the smallest hour of the night, it was more because i had to deplete the urine supply raring to wet the sofa i slept in than because i was having it one day too late to flagellate my conscience with guilt-trippings like "you should have accustomed yourself to eating candies with plastic cover on, you idiot!" if i did test positive on carrying the seeds of contemporary plague, well, i initially have to have courage in accepting the consequence for my irresponsible sex life. what possibly comes next--the social stigma, the fright and all that jazz--krystala has to deal with that sooner or later.
the last couple of years preoccupied me with the consideration of practicing safe sex since i cannot bring myself to go exclusive or to abstain altogether. however, the fallible human that i am always gets bedeviled by reckless youth, ultra-raging libido and, well, blazing hot gay guys. i know, i know: it only takes that transparent colored rubber to spare me a lifetime of throwing ashes in the air, but my cock has a mind of its own and my hedonism is guided by the principle "eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow you shall die." there's no problem having to die early and in a disease that the world currently fears; all i need is optimized time to do what i want, say teaching and writing, and i can die and be sent off to the point of no return to the tune of moony's flying away, any mix.
and i did what i've done, and now that i tested negative, the sigh of relief is enough to give me a fatal heart attack. it did not matter that my childhood friend melanie, arnel's present girlfriend (i was the bridge--let me discuss that soon), did not hit my left arm's vein precisely that it became necessary for her to prick yet another needle in my other arm. weird things hovered in my head, meanwhile: what if the inches-long needle breaks and half of it becomes embedded in my blood vessel? what if instead of squirted blood, swallowed seminal fluid of the cute guys i have had intimacy with gets siphoned off by the vacutainer? what if i fall unconscious after petrifying? so there at the laboratory we waited for the verdict, smiling uneasily and watching melanie's colleagues munching on the morning doughnuts we brought along.
alas, arnel and i got cleared for hepatitis and hiv, among other things.i had the instinct of telling the good news to my close friends and friends with benefits. all of them were happy like me about the results, happier perhaps if they have had one or more physical contacts with me and not be infected in the process. texts like "fucking time continues!" and "go for clean fun and have more love" warmed my heart, but one wacky message brought the house down. it said, "so, you are not with child, eh?" to which i replied, "what, immaculate conception?" the guy laughed, saying, "just conception: neither of us is immaculate." too bad if i did conceive: who is the father? well, it's linggo ng pagkabuhay in advance for me, and since i'm not immaculate, i will have to join the easter egg hunt full of frenzy, pun intended.

the good friday revolt

i received mixed reactions for the poem i composed for my crush last maundry thursday. some were sympathetic of the feeling wherein a fallible human is inextricably situated between morality and the call of the flesh, some were patronizing the relative ease at which i treated a difficult subject and some more were aghast at how i took it to the sacrilegious limit and perverted biblical allusions outright. nonetheless, the most important reaction came from the very person who inspired the poem to begin with. my very good friday started with two sms from gorgeous, and as i read both, it was not far-fetched that he made a second transmission of the similar content for him to drive home his message that god was crucified out of his love for me. when he ended his lenten text with "god loves you!", i immediately got reminded of a conversation with a gay friend with gorgeous as the usual subject. i remember having said, "well, he's so impeccable that he is more like a god to me." so god loves me, after all, even as i’m ready to be crucified by the world in his sake. ooops, if i so much as blaspheme a third time, i’d be rained upon not with stones but with computer mouses (yeah, that’s the plural form)—with cpu’s and monitors attached.
at any rate, here's the complete text of the poem entitled “apocrypha”:
the man is my brother--
it's he i want.
you command, father,
never for me to covet
someone not my partner
lest you unleash your wrath
in torrents of brimstone and fire.
even now, i already envision
my soul roasting in fiery dominion
for this desire that has caused
the destruction of my kind
trickles down my very spine.
my brother, he is an
incarnated apple,
and to a greater hell
i lead myself
when i resist worshipping
his unwithered temple.
forgive me, father,
but i want to sin.
if somehow the blasphemous poem caused any repulsion on the part of anyone including that of my crush (just a question: what part? hehehe), let me lament on what revolted me this time of the year as well as that of last year.
i spent lent 2005 in paradisal villa escudero in coconut-rich san pablo city. everything was fine until maundry thursday when i frolicked alone at the jacuzzi. i initially had a great moment mimicking beauty contestants in their swimsuit competition. after some time, i saw a celebrity lesbian couple and another lesbian pair heading my bathing place, and i sensed this was the signal that the world was about to self-destruct to give way to the eternal fires of hell. they dipped their curvaceous bodies, but i remained oblivious, even when they proudly displayed their mutual homosexual affection. i had to, for i felt that it was my duty to contribute to the redemption of the world, and if this entailed having to make a sacrifice out of my pathetic self, so be it. and it came to pass that as the night wore on, i grew feverish and failed to join my collegues in playing ungguy-ungguyan. they spared me the untimely jokes that the simian that i am need not play cards with them, for i have become so delirious that i took donna for a diabolic stranger when she entered my room. i was still sick when we returned to manila the following day, and i believed that was because the world must be salvaged after my jacuzzi encounter with the lesbians. i recovered before black saturday because i had a cute visitor in the form of perfect boyfriend material/would-be ad model marc the night of very good friday.
this year, after getting ugly foot blisters by ceaselessly running away—on ill-fitting havana slippers—from a cult staging the way of the cross somewhere in manila, my best friend tuxedo mask discreetly asked me to receive in my activated phone obscene multimedia images from a girl chatmate of his. about the same time, the three lesbian boarders in his apartment urged me to join them in malate for a nocturnal chillout party (did i imagine it exclusive?). ooops, scylla and charybdis; it was a tough decision to choose between the dilemma that’s the devil and the deep blue sea. in the end, i reluctantly conceded to my best friend’s request, turning down the lesbians’ offer to call on a simultaneous explosion of all the world’s volcanoes. when the gender-benders left, numerous lewd mms with an image of a navel down in various states of undress flooded my phone. since tuxedo mask could not operate my phone properly, i had the honor, i mean horror, of sending to his phone the half-body pornographic pictures via bluetooth, inescapably glimpsing the last thing on earth i'd want to look at.
with all the perversions made by and against me, i hope not to run a scalding temperature later.

temptress: a reading of luisa valenzuela’s “the sin of the apple”

Luisa Valenzuela’s “The Sin of the Apple” narrates the overbearing attitude of an apple and its disastrous effect on the fruit. A moral tale about incurring what one deserves, the fable follows the unrestrained behavior of the apple whose tempting appearance causes men to salivate, until such time the villainous serpent ripens it and makes it fall.
With a haughty, conceited tone in the initial paragraphs, the apple dismisses the longing gaze of men, which suggests objectification of the male species’ opposite sex: the female. The apple being made to feel as an object of desire, its way of reciprocating thus is pointing at the men’s “voracity.” Giving the apple a feminine characteristic is a telling construction of how men and the society at-large are informed about women: that they are arrogant, vain, a mere object, anything that generates men’s catastrophe.
The apple also boastfully mentions allusions of how its race has become an archetype in the history of human civilization. For example, it is “a descendant…of Paris’ apple,” which implies that only a fruit of her elegance matches the proportions of the fairest Olympian deity, the goddess of beauty Aphrodite. It goes on to feed on conceit by relating itself “to the scientific apple of Newton, the apple that has done so much for the human race” by helping establish the Law of Motion. If not for the apple, the natural principle of physics would have remained a distant dream, hence the fruit’s boasting. To intensify the wide gap between its tantalizing beauty and the tempted men, it uses another literary reference—Aesop’s fable on the fox and the grapes—if only to look down on men who can only sourgrape or eat their hearts out, at most, because the apple, in its greenness, “[doesn’t] intend to budge” and “[hasn’t] the slightest intention of falling.”
The next episode changes the tone of the apple from that of egotism to that of paranoia, which seems to suggest that women are capricious—ever fickle with their emotions. When the snake that represents yet another cause of man’s downfall (and a controversial “she” at that) appears before the fruit, the latter is agitated because the serpent “remind[s] [the apple] of the frailty of [its] species.” The snake serves as a reminder to the apple that humans indulged in sin because of it, and it is not far to think to equate sinning with tasting the apple and associating with the snake. In which case, the grand state in which the apple holds itself is now being confronted by “the great shame” of the original sin that is disobedience to God. The apple hopelessly denies that “[n]o one remembers Adam and Eve any more, no one thinks about the original sin” but the fruit itself ironically remembers the fateful event. This embarrassing episode for the apple tells that it cannot make a consummate boasting, after all, because the fruit has its share of shame.
The erotic episode sees the apple feeling “the shame mounting through the stem, it makes [the fruit] hot,” and the apple blushes and marvels at how red—how sensually impassioned—it is. In here we are reminded of how our ancestral parents Adam and Eve, after taking a bite at the apple, harbors shame for their nakedness. They have sinned because of the apple; now the apple takes its turn to indulge in sinfulness and feels the very shame that it is. This sinning is amplified by the fruit’s ripening.
As a consequence of the apple’s sinning, “it fell” as did the biters of the Biblical apple. What is interesting is the comment of one of the men who picked the fallen apple for a bite: “It’s only natural.” So this is the way of nature: for women to gravitate—a patriarchal confirmation of the fallible creatures that women are. The casualness in which the comment was spoken says so much about the disdain men cast women in.
The only redeeming grace—one that is seen fit for being placed at the penultimate part of the text—is the time when one of the men “took the first bite of the apple.” This is a subversion of the Biblical episode wherein the ancestral mother, Eve, took a bite first before giving it to her partner. While it may be argued that only men were on the ground waiting for the apple to descend, the fact that it is not a woman this time who first bit at the fruit somewhat provides a salvation for the female-associated apple which was generally scorned in the text for its vanity, fallibility and condescension. It is a man who displays fallibility this time.
Unless the feminist movement gains full ground in crushing the patriarchal ideology which holds the female species in contempt, women will not be able to repopulate the mainstream and will always remain the sinful apple that men so much anticipate to fall.

forgive me, brother, but i want us to sin

what follows is the slightly edited transcript of the most terrific online chat i've ever had. "you" refers to yours truly, while "coldfusion" refers to my lasallian chatmate at the guys4men website. read on and be radiated...
10 Apr 2006, 20:20You: gotcha:) your lovely face distracts me from my writing, hehehe.:)
10 Apr 2006, 20:37ColdFusion: hehehe... bolero...don't lie to me... are you effeminate?
10 Apr 2006, 20:45You: i am not.:) sounds to me like those ancient confessions in moss-covered churches, hahahaha.
10 Apr 2006, 20:50ColdFusion: and what will you confess to me, my child?
10 Apr 2006, 20:53You: hmm, father, while we're at it, forgive me for i have sinned. while i'm chatting with this scorching hot lasallian guy, i grow horns.
10 Apr 2006, 20:54ColdFusion: what made you think that the guy you're chatting with is a lasallian?
10 Apr 2006, 20:54You: i read his posts, father, but lasallian or non-lasallian, my pagan orientation is giving me a ticket straight to the fires of hell. father, pray tell, how many hail mary's do i recite? how many apostle's creed's? do i include the ejaculation to the holy mother?
10 Apr 2006, 20:56ColdFusion: just bend over, and i'll bless you from the inside bottom...
10 Apr 2006, 20:59You: father, let me quote from my literary god: the lord is my shepherd but i want...didn't notice too soon, father, that you're smoldering hot...
10 Apr 2006, 21:00ColdFusion: then let this former lasallian bless you with his white water from his wand of light.open your body to him, receive him in all his glory... let your lust overflow, as his white water of lust overflows from within you out your bottom. i am not your father... i am your brother... let me give you my brotherly love... we shall be in bed sharing our lusty carnal love for each other.
10 Apr 2006, 21:03You: i will let him, father, for i want to worship my body and his body before both wither. the fluid lust shall brim my anatomical cup, and the look in his eyes shall consume me like the sun-kissed earth.
10 Apr 2006, 21:06ColdFusion: and that truth will not set you free right away...you will be bound to be lustful with your brother... until you and your brother are without the white water.
10 Apr 2006, 21:09You: share to me your carnal knowledge, my brother, even as i'm trembling with passion. but then again, the temblor underneath my skin is the fear that begins wisdom.
10 Apr 2006, 21:10ColdFusion: only then shall you know the meaning of redemption... only then when his broth runs over your cup... only then shall you be liberated from the bindings of this world.you shall know redemption from him. but it shall not be realised on one meeting only. you will have to study him, learn from him, of him, on him. and that realization will be made known only when you have done it more than once.
10 Apr 2006, 21:13You: i will remember, my brother: i will not be set free right away like plato's cavemen unseeing of the sunlight. if becoming wise means having to submit to the will of my brother, so be it, my wrists are chained. i anticipate the time when my brother showers me with ripples of his desire, and i will be moved to enlightenment.
10 Apr 2006, 21:14ColdFusion: you shall learn what elation means, my brother. you shall once he has grown inside you one time too many.
10 Apr 2006, 21:20You: i will not forget the teachings of my brother. he is my master and i am but a lowly follower. i will not receive salvation on one stroke alone, so i will try to learn and learn more. the weight of worldliness is too much to endure, but i will express my desire to unbind myself from the anguish of it.my brother is my redeemer, and his ways are true, good and beautiful. a mere touch on his body shall heal me from my wanting, but the knowledge he offers will ultimately free me. without hesitation, i come to him, clean-slated as a child, for my brother will whisk me away from the material world.
10 Apr 2006, 21:23ColdFusion: tremble not... you must face him, or turn about from him, and be impaled by his gentleness. your wisdom of him must be based not on fear, but on the lustful wanting of him.
10 Apr 2006, 21:25You: i must admit that the same fright running beneath my skin spins the same web of desire for my brother. i accede to his command: i will face my brother, on bended knee, and minister to him like i never did in all my life. my brother is gentle; he guides me as my ministry happens along, and as his face manifests blissful pleasure, my heart will long to be one with my brother.
10 Apr 2006, 21:29ColdFusion: your brother is not The redeemer... but he himself was redeemed. he is merely a corrupted reflection of those that came before him. yet, he bears the truth... the truth that each man seeks. and that truth shall be passed on to you. your bodies shall be the medium with which this truth shall be shared. by that intercourse you must also realize the you are like him in most repects. he wishes not to imply that he is above and beyond you. but, rather, he presents himself as an equal... you can be like him. just allow yourself to receive him fully, without hesitation, without fear. receive him like a true man should. receive him with fierceness. and let go not of him lightly. lest you insult his wand, and burden yourself of the loss of him so unforgivable.
10 Apr 2006, 21:29You: i will remember, my brother. it is with celestial yearning that i will allow him to come to me, for i am his little brother, and he is my big brother, and brothers walk side by side in attempting to discover the labyrinths of the universe. my brother, i lust after you. forgive me but i want to sin.
10 Apr 2006, 21:34ColdFusion: you brother is very forgiving. but abuse not his generosity. for within his gentle facade rests a very unforgiving nature... lose him once, and you shall never know redemption. you shall never be free.
10 Apr 2006, 21:40You: you speak to me of ancient truths, and i desire you even more, my brother. i will not attempt in any way to lose my brother, for if he walks astray i will be doomed. i long to share what light my brother has received, for it is this light that shall redeem me too. i am a man and i will receive him, filled with ferocity and passion. i can only take my brother seriously, for he is more than an incarnated being. he is enlightened, and his ways shall haunt me even in my deepest imaginings. i cannot afford to lose my brother, for it is him that my heart yearns all along. i want the day to come when my brother takes my hand toward the way to freedom. his benevolence is without equal, for his rod of light spawns the very beginning of my wisdom.
10 Apr 2006, 21:44ColdFusion: and your brother shall have nourishment for a moment... the spirit does require a healthy vessel. and it is this vessel that shall feed your cup the white water that will cleanse your soul.
10 Apr 2006, 21:46You: i will follow my brother, for i cannot present myself to my brother an already withered temple. as he nourishes his body, i will be reminded of him, and i will be struck with desire, and in my mind he eats, and is eaten for the fluid of truth.

thou shalt not eat flesh, any variant, on lent

unless you want tsunami to strike where you are actually getting it on, have pity on yourself and don't eat meat. hahahahaha. the colonizing westerners introduced to vegetarian orientals the wonders of the flesh, now they want to foist on us the idea of avoiding eating carcass for forty days beginning ash wednesday. ano ba talaga, kuya?
anyway, this whole mumbo-jumbo of refraining from carnal pursuits rests on the superstition that it's as bad as eating the corpse of the crucified christ. abstain the flesh, we are warned, just so we partake in the sacrifices of the redeemer. eat bulalo, sinigang na baboy and similar mouth-watering dish and you are reduced to being a spiritual cannibal. reminds me of an old joke wherein a gay man queuing for the eucharist was asked, "katawan ni kristo..." to which the gay replied, "macho!", scandalizing the ostiya-wielding priest and the rest of the mass attendants.
the myth is not limited to the organic, since it extends up to the sexual. getting laid should be abstained too, supposedly. no blowjobs, even as you argue that you'll never consume the entire thing inside your stomach anyway and that you'll just lick and suck. apparently, the mere taste of hard, throbbing cock is supposed to earn you a celestial punishment. when i started asking friends with benefits "may papakuin ba kayo ngayong semana santa?" some were horrified with my double entendre that they pleaded, "sanctify yourself, for christ' sake!" i would have believed them but for the sacrilegious mentioning of the lord's name, which left me some doubt about saying sorry instead of being outright repentant.
good friday of 2003 saw me and my writer friend ruel prowling the callboy-dominated marikina riverbanks, notwithstanding my policy not to engage in sex facilitated by money. he was able to convince me to check out the place out of sheer fun, especially when the meat market began to reek of haggling amongst gays and rent boys. reaching the place devoid of the expected gigolos, we came to the conclusion that even these guys adhere to a certain superstitious pagtitika. i could imagine them flagellating themselves too, in order to atone for the sin of capitalizing on laziness and on the desire for them by obliging gay men. talk about a country that's predominantly catholic.
the lent a year after so bored me that i decided to pay a visit to a hospital-attending boylet, since people from the medical profession, the police, the tourism section and, last i gathered straight from the nonstraight friend of gorgeous that's hunk, from the airlines and from the call centers, do not enjoy vacation during the lenten season. as i crossed aurora boulevard, a bearded hunk about my age flashed me a smile, which made me change plans. it was 3 p.m. good friday, but here was a guy in the image of christ, and i was transforming into the snake temptress. ice--for that was the name with which he regaled me--accompanied me back home and apart from the mouse he saw crawling atop my cabinet, no natural catastrophe whatsoever halted our carnal education.
good friday of last year will always go down in my personal history as among the top three best sexcapades i've had, for i did it with a beautiful guy who would become an ad model for a telecom and a foreign fastfood. i just staggered from a short vacation in villa escudero in san pablo city (even as i was in san pablo, hindi ako nagpa-blo, hehehehe), and i incurred fever after sharing the jacuzzi with two pairs of lesbian lovers (one being an outed celebrity couple). now, this fever was the sacrifice the gay man that i am must redeem the world with in order to avoid a cataclysm of biblical proportions. however, seeing dreamboy, a ryan agoncillo looker with muscles, immediately made my fever vanish. the malls were closed as it was good friday, and glancing at dreamboy's boyish looks, i would have hailed a taxi to spare him a short travel home on foot. i was reminded that bawal ang karne, but what the hey, dreamboy is such a babe it's a greater sin not to obey my craving.
as for this year, i don't know yet what's in store for me, but my time for reflection will always include a supplication that the earth will not open up to engulf me as i hold my mouth agape to receive flesh.

southbound

childhood memories spent in the big city crop up whenever i'm reminded of southern metro manila, which is always, given that the last three objects of my affection coincidentally reside there. joni lives in las pinas, where i studied in grade two and three. the university system admitted me, with scholarship to boot, on the strength of my superior performance in grade school mathematics examination. that was before i still had a brilliant career in math; i failed to catch up with math's increasing complexity since grade six so more or less you have an idea why i later went on to become an english major. meanwhile, joni is a film major whom i met at school. i staggered at the screening of the closing film of the women's film festival at the university of the philippines film center, but to the dismay of most of the crowd, the scheduled film got corrupted. serendipity has other plans for my lovelife, so that must be the reason i stayed to watch a spanish-language film until an angelic-looking guy sat next to me. half of the theater was empty but the guy chose to beside me, so my hair elongated yet again till i had the courage to brush my elbow against his. no protest which could have hauled me in the up-diliman police station. i brazenly held his hand, and no protest still. i flashed a flirtatious smile and before i grew horns, the lights flicked on. end of the film but joni and i have just begun. armed with photocopies of study handouts, he walked side by side with me up till faraway philcoa.

the lack of originality in the country’s reality tv shows

From singing competitions like Star in A Million to talent search shows like Starstruck and Star Circle National Teen Quest, the Philippine media industry has been intent in emulating most of the internationally-acclaimed television hits. By doing so, producers have their hopes up that the public would warmly accept the shows they concoct, which are made a little more complicated by the addition of twists but are generally carbon copies of foreign shows. Using little manipulation, these shows that, ironically, Filipinos are proud to call their own turn out to be surprise hits in the country.
The talent search shows Star Circle National Teen Quest (also termed as SCNTQ) and Starstruck make the young dream big. These shows have a relatively upright objective --- that is, both serve as avenues for helping the underprivileged youth achieve their dream of making it into the colorful and astounding world of show business. The shows are all about extreme transformations --- several simple teenagers are chosen who are eventually groomed to be the next, big stars. Their road to fame is quick but humiliating. With roughly six weeks of careful deliberation, the kids have to undergo workshops wherein their weaknesses are heavily criticized. Nonetheless, these shows are gaining surprisingly towering ratings on television. People persist in watching them daily, having their own bets as to who will be pronounced the Next Grand Questor or the Starstruck Survivor. Since two rival stations generated these shows, avid fans of both parties keep arguing as to which station really came up with this “brilliant” concept. What the people don’t know, however, is that the shows’ theme replicates those of other foreign television series like America’s Next Top Model and Next Action Superstar. What made the local shows different however is the small twist added --- instead of grooming the contestants to be models or action stars, they are spruced up to be the next matinee idols. The same holds true for singing competitions like Star in A Million and Pinoy Pop Superstar, which are technically based on America’s television hit, American Idol.
The country’s lack of originality in coming up with unique television concepts weakens the Filipinos’ creativity and ingenuity. When producers desperately alter minor details in a show for it to appear as something new and inimitable, it cheapens not only the standards of the original plot, but it also questions the competence of the TV networks’ capability in coming up with their own spectacular ideas. In the media’s dire efforts to duplicate the same number of following received by these critically-acclaimed foreign shows, they end up defiling the original show’s objective by manipulating it for the networks’ own benefits. Rightfully so, duplicating shows can generally be considered a form of stealing. However, because of minor technicalities like added developments, the local media has evaded such indictment.
One of the reasons why TV networks continue to copy programs’ concepts from other culture is that they believe they are not stealing in any form. Minimal perks are incorporated and while the theme may be adapted, the way they execute the plot is an entirely different conspiracy. All right, these “added perks” may be regarded as points for originality. For example, the talent search programs can be given credit for their own singular way of deciding upon the winner. By incorporating audience’ cooperation through text votes, this particular segment differentiates local shows from the original programs. However, it is not this perk that made the programs a success. It is still the plot that the shows’ producers have adapted that won the interests of many, and the audience’ votes is merely a ploy to gain more money for TV networks rather than having the intention of pleasing the public. Thus, some of the added perks do not make the show better; they only make the TV networks richer.
Some critics say that simulations of programs may not be entirely the media’s fault because it wouldn’t be tolerated in the first place if the public refrained from patronizing these shows. Thus, it could be said that the country’s fondness for these series may largely be due to the colonial mentality of Filipinos --- that is, anything foreign is widely accepted regardless of the consequences it bequeaths which includes compromising morality and courtesy. For example, the flamboyant clothes that are too revealing for comfort are not what the general public is accustomed to. Also, the vulgar spiels and the humiliating manner of dealing with contestants are against the strict civility code of the sympathetic Filipinos. Most Filipinos believe that Hollywood is “in” so we must patronize it accordingly. Despite the glitz and glamour of Hollywood however, it shouldn’t serve as a basis for a show’s quality because beneath the dream-like packaging, the shows produced are relatively the same as ours. While it is true that it is almost impossible to eradicate completely the Filipino’s dependence on foreign culture, using colonial mentality as a reason to sidestep the reality that the Philippines has been replicating programs is insufficient and illogical. Besides, it even encourages dependence by doing so.
Some people may find the local teleseryes like Krystala trashy and cheap, with shallow plots and predictable endings. Who in his non-dysfunctional brain would expect a blue-and-gold costume-garbed superheroine crashing through the posh Powerplant to stop the forces of evil emanating from an active volcano? Well, it can’t be avoided since these shows are by-products of pop culture. While the upper class may censure the foreseeable twists in the shows’ plots, the masses seem to enjoy the predictability mainly because they can easily relate to the characters’ dilemmas and dreams in life. The masses nurture a lowly but full of potential Judy Ann Santos in them.
The derivation of shows also undermines Philippine ideas. Instead of giving enough opportunities to creative consultants to excel in their respective fields, they are peripherally outshined by foreign specialists. Thus, the Filipinos suffer a marginalized culture with no ethnicity and no identity. Aside from stunted creativity, the duplication of shows is an assault to the Filipinos’ level of civilization. We base our progress and refinement on foreign standards, and we purposefully overlook the pagan beliefs and rich culture we once had. This is because our culture is already a fusion of pagan and Western learning. Our ethnicity is not as authentic as it was before.
Instead of trying to use these reasons as means of support to this disappointing practice, the Filipinos could use it in another manner. Fondness for one thing is acceptable, but dependence on it is entirely a different thing. Philippine media must learn to survive on its own without any sign of influence from the dominant Western culture. What the industry needs is a radical makeover by patronizing local notions. The media could come up with Philippine travelogues that showcase scenic spots in the country like Travel Time and creative and youth-oriented shows integrating Philippine mythology/culture like Hiraya Manawari. The Philippines could further enhance highly commendable drama shows that promote values and that reflect the Filipinos’ custom way of living like Hiram. Educational shows like Sine ‘Skwela and Batibot are beneficial for kids, too. By promoting more local shows, this could serve as an effective strategy in developing our unique ethnicity since media is a very influential tool in connecting people.
The lack of originality in talk shows is just a microcosm of the general way Filipinos deal with colonial mentality. If we rely so much on foreign culture to the point that we cannot even come up with Filipino ideas, then perhaps the Philippines is turning out to be a hopeless case --- an extension of American territory with no voice, no expression and no identity. Hopefully, the suggested shows will help minimize copying and, in effect, resolve the side effects brought about by imitating shows from countries we look up to as superior than ours. It should not be forgotten that long before the gumamela-wearing Jasmine Trias invaded the world consciousness through the wildly popular American Idol, the Filipinos beat the Americans to that with Nora Aunor’s and Regine Velasquez’ discovery through Tawag ng Tanghalan and Ang Bagong Kampeon.

yonder is the star: the political underpinnings of manuel arguilla’s “how my brother leon brought home a wife”

The canonical writer Manuel Arguilla is deemed one of the best writers of Philippine literature in English not only during the prewar period but also of all times. It is interesting to note how Arguilla was able to handle the colonial language so dexterously that some critics both local and foreign were moved into acclaiming that in Arguilla’s fictions, English seemed like a Philippine dialect. It is likewise noteworthy that Arguilla tended to create a-world-of-its-own setting—no external factors whatsoever, only the characters existing in rural isolation—for some of his literary works, including the short story under study, “How My Brother Leon Brought Home a Wife.” This short criticism will take a departure from that vacuum world by attempting to explore the political undertones of the fiction in question.
The context in which Arguilla produced “How My Brother Leon…” was the point of the American Occupation when the Philippines was being granted the transitional Commonwealth government. It is not a hidden fact that American Imperialism always suspected that colonies are inferior lots, the self-rule of which will throw them into sure chaos, hence the American’s cynicism over giving them the autonomy. The Philippines, for that matter, was not an exemption, despite the ills of American Occupation far outweighing the difficulty of administering a newborn republic. This political underpinning is metaphorically commented in “How My Brother Leon…”
When Baldo was commissioned by Father to fetch his brother Leon and his pretty wife Maria, the party did not proceed the usual, shorter, more comfortable route of camino real but in the longer, rough, inconvenient Waig with its “rocky bottom.” Upon Leon’s interrogation, Baldo told that it was Father who “told [him] to follow the Waig.” Father also dismissed “Castano and the calesa” and had the couple ride the slow cart pulled by Labang the carabao. With the Father figure being the American Father, the newlyweds (the Philippines) were made to travel a jagged road toward their home in Nagrebcan because the independent married life they were leading was not going to be smooth. The country’s independence from the American Father was not going to be a walk in the park (actually, a tumultuous journey across the shadowy, bumpy fields) and to answer Leon’s question to Maria “why…Father should do that, now,” it was because the Father colonizer did not think it was time to free the colony.
Another manifestation of the same political undertone was when Maria exclaimed, “yonder is [her and Leon’s] star,” meaning the way to reach the embodiment of a fulfilled dream, say the Filipino nation’s colonial liberation, was still a long way to go. The colonizing Americans set the star of independence beyond the Filipinos’ reach—hence the training period Commonwealth government—because the country was not yet equipped with political maturity. Later, she also asked, “Have we far to go yet,” which was an appropriate question of a colony regarding her dependent condition. Whereas Baldo replied, “so near already,” the lost laughter of Baldo’s sister-in-law showed that the tedious journey across the fields has wearied Maria. The state of American independence for the Philippines was far away, and that was one not worth smiling about.
It may not be overt but considering the setting in which “How My Brother Leon…” was written, the political atmosphere of that time and space somehow emanated.

kayumangging 'kano sa tondo

Nakalulungkot isipin ang mga huling sarbey sa sambayanan hinggil sa pagkamamamayan (o kawalan nito) ng mga Filipino. Kung mabibigyan ng pagkakataon, kalahati ng mga nakausap ang gustong magsilayas na ng Pilipinas para sa mas maginhawang pamumuhay sa ibang bansa. Sa mga kabataan naman, isa sa apat ang naghahangad na ipinanganak na sana bilang ibang mamamayan kaysa bilang Filipino. Tila ba isang salot ang pagiging Pinoy kaya ikinahihiya ito ng hindi kakaunting kababayan. Ito ay lubusang totoo higit sa mga nakalapag na sa ibang lupain kung saan ang pamumuhay ay moderno at kaaya-aya. Para naman sa mga nakabase lamang dito, sitwasyong pulitikal at ekonomikal ang salik kung bakit nais magsipagsapalaran na lang sa dayuhang bansa. Pahiwatig kaya ito na kung pag-asa ang hinahanap, hindi matatagpuan sa Pilipinas saan mang lupalop tumingin dito?
Isyu ng (kawalang) pagkamamamayan ang basikong tinalakay sa dulang New Yorker in Tondo ni Marcelino Agana, Jr. Arketipo si Kikay, ang pangunahing tauhang nagbalikbayan mula New York, ng utak-kolonyal na Pinoy: kumpara sa galing Amerika, laos ang anumang bagay na Pinoy kaya dapat tangkilikin ang sa dayuhang kultura. Samakatuwid, ayon nga sa isang dating patalastas sa telebisyon: walang ganyan sa States. Dagdag pa rito ang tinubuang lugar na binalikan ni Kikay, ang notoryosong distrito ng Tondo sa lungsod ng Maynila kung saan siksikan sa mga barung-barong ang mga dukha, basag-ulo ang libangan ng mga maton at panganganak o tsismisan naman sa mga babae. Isang Kayumangging ‘Kana sa isang jologs (kolokyal sa alipustang-uri) na lugar at pihong sagupaan ito ng "mataas" at "mababang" antas ng kultura.
Gaya ng nasabi na, kinakatawan ni Kikay ang kolonyal na Filipino: napunta lang sa ibang bansa, nagkaroon na ng karapatan maging kritikal sa lahat ng bagay na kinalakhan. Nasa Pilipinas na nga, naiwan pa rin ang puso sa San Francisco, kumbaga sa lumang kanta. Kulang nang masabing sa paglapag ng mga kaugali ni Kikay sa paliparan ng bansang pinuntahan, nalulusaw na ang pagkamamamayan at nagiging dayuhan na. Kataka-taka ito kung iisiping ang ibang Oryental na mamamayan ay nagsusumikap protektahan ang kanilang kultura at gumagawa ng Chinatown o Koreatown kung para lang hindi lamunin ng impluwensiyang dayuhan. Si Kikay naman, sosyal na dahil iginigiit na siya si Francesca, kuntodo makeup at Ingles ng Ingles dahil nga naman sa Pilipinas o saan mang lupalop na naaapektuhan ng Imperyalismong Amerikano, mas impresibong magsalita sa kolonyal na wikang Ingles kaysa katutubong wika. Kalunus-lunos ito para sa mga naiwang kamag-anak at kaibigan na nananabik pa man ding makapiling muli ang minamahal na nangibang-bansa, nagtiis mahiwalay para hayaang makaranas ng edukasyon o trabaho o pagliliwaliw sa ibayong-dagat para lamang gulatin na ang balikbayan palang hinihintay ay hindi na makikilala pa.
Hindi kakaunting Pilipino ang ganitong klase, bilang pagpapatibay sa resulta ng sarbey sa pasakalye ng pagmumuning ito. Bilang bansang nakaranas ng halos kalahating milenyong pananakop ng iba’t ibang dayuhan, may umiiral na Kikay sa bawat isa sa atin, nakalabas man o papalabas pa lang. Ang pagtangkilik sa pelikulang Hollywood o sa pagkaing Mcdonald’s o sa mga produktong Stateside at tandisang pag-ayaw sa inaakalang mababang-uring produktong Pinoy ay pahiwatig ng kamalayang kolonyal. Pinatitindi pa ang anti-Pilipinong kaisipan ng talamak na kahirapan at pagbabangayang pulitikal—pag-asa sa laro ng kapalaran na nag-anak ng trahedyang stampede, pagpapatupad ng anti-mahirap na Expanded Value Added Tax, mala-batas militar na State of National Emergency ng Pangulo, at iba pa—kaya sino ba ang hindi maghahangad makaahon sa paglubog na ito na ang tanging nakikitang liwanag ay pagdayo sa ibayong lupain? Nagiging eskapista na ang hindi kakaunti sa atin kaya wala tayong pinagkaiba kay Kikay na naghunos ng pagkamamamayang Pilipino dahil ang paghuhunos na ito ang tanging paraang makatakas papunta sa mapagligtas umanong kulturang kolonyal.
Si Kikay: lumawak ang kanyang napag-aralan, nagkaroon ng breeding, naging bihasa sa Ingles pero kahit sa pangalan ay wala nang identidad pa. Filipino pa ba siya o Amerikano na? Katutubong Filipino siya sa hitsura ngunit hindi ang kanyang kalooban, kaya hindi malayong mababang-uring Amerikano siya kumpara sa lehitimong ‘Kanong maputi ang balat, ginintuan ang buhok, matangos ang ilong. Katawa-tawa kung ituturing ng sinumang Kikay na siya ay hindi siya sapagkat iba na siya dahil maliban sa kamalayan, diskriminado ang kaanyuan niya sa tunay na ‘Kano. Isang pagkukunwari ang paggigiit na ito ng ‘di-pagka-Filipino at hindi lingid ang katotohanang walang buting idudulot ang pamumuhay sa kasinungalingan. Sa kaso ni Kikay at iba pang utak-kolonyal sa ating katipunan ng mga mamamayan, saan sila lulugar kung kailangan na nilang iladlad ang kanilang pagkakakilanlan?