GuniGuri ni GuruGuri

DeThe flounder fish is the only creature that has both eyes on one cheek! at birth, its eyes are equidistant on either side of the face but it undergoes metamorphosis, forcing the underlying eye to drift towards the top cheek as they reach adulthood.

Ponder on this: We are not all of the same make. Persistently sneaky bottom-dwellers defy physical restrictions set by nature or fate… but tigers can never change their stripes.

herberthumphrey 2007

Once
upon a not quite so long ago, a quarter past the hour of seven, the nocturnal
sky was peeping down the earth with its old demented white pupil that strangely
rouse dormant madness within wolves and loons alike, when it unexpectedly
decided to direct its mesmerizing gaze upon three blokes slumped in apathy
inside an old beat up car, enjoying -so to speak- a road trip respite in the
middle of nowhere. They were; Jim from
the broadcasting field, Jack the thespian and John the artist. (With the
exception of John, they are all married, thus, their actual names are omitted
to protect them from their temperamental wives who were purposely misinformed
about this little expedition.)

It is
not clear whose idiotic brain the stupid idea came from but the trio somehow
agreed to throw and lock their wallets inside the glove compartment and each of
them was suppose to find a way to acquire food through sheer talent alone
without spending a single dime from their pocket money -for most of which has
already been misspent during their last stop over; in a whore house.

Jim
was the first one who audaciously took the challenge. He got off the car with a
mischievous grin and strode off to the nearest sari-sari store while the other
two observed from the car. He took a cigarette out of his pocket, asked the
store clerk for a light then sat down the long wooden bench where some
middle-aged farmers were hanging about, drinking sioktong or some other sort of
cheap beer. 

Filipino
rural folks are known to be very hospitable to outsiders and Jim is very well
aware of that fact having been reared from the southern rural himself. So he
didn’t even have to initiate a conversation. The second he sat there, one of
the men offered him a shot which he courteously took. It was then followed by
their casual inquiries like “taga saan ka?” or “kumain ka na ba?” and soon
enough, with his talent in public relations and an unnerving charm politicians
would be very envious of, he was mingling with them as if he was their own and
the men kept on with their gestures of hospitality by ordering another round of
booze and cans of sardines for pulutan.

With
his mission accomplished, Jim went back to his friends and they drove away to
another area. 

Next
up at bat, was Jack the thespian. It was quite obvious what he would do but the
other two were having doubts if he could pull a performance worthy of an Oscar.
Yet the bloke was as confident as he always was in the numerous stageplays he
has performed in and all he need, he said, are props and proper motivation to
get him in character. So he sprinted back and forth an empty street and got
himself sweating like a pig, then he popped the hood of the car, greased up his
hands and shirt, took a rusty wrench and, in perfect timing, knocked on the
door of a house he has singled out after an hour of meticulous surveillance.

The
old woman who opened up was outright sympathetic to find in her doorsteps a
young man in such pitiful state; all greasy, sweaty and limping a bit from exhaustion.
Jack politely asked her for a glass of water and hoped if he could use their
landline because his car broke down and his cell phone ran out of load. The
kind woman didn’t have the heart to turn him down. After making his ‘phone
call’, he sufficed her queries of concern with such effective storytelling that
made the rest of the family stand up from the dinning table hoping they could
be of any assistance to their poor stranded guest. With the food already on the
table, the man of the house invited Jack to join them for dinner and it was a
generous offer which he modestly declined, explaining his cousin won’t take
long and will be there in less than an hour with the sparkplug replacement he
needed. But the hosts, being good Samaritans and rather very religious, (quite
apparent with the wooden image of a man they claim to be Jesus hanging by their
front door which was so freaking huge only the blind would not be able to
notice) insisted he should dine with them while he wait for his cousin’s
arrival. 

Under
the table, Jack sent Jim a text message to bring a sparkplug and pick him up.

As
Jim went to fetch Jack from his well performed act, John was left in the car
still unable to device a scam of his own. He’s an artist, not a con artist. So
what could he do? Dazzle barangay tanods with his cartoon animations? Serenade
a house for food? Take photographs of the trees and sell them to the mayor?
Write poetry for the tipplers? Or design a logo for the sari-sari store
perhaps? Ah, but none of these would obviously work. He might as well beg. So
then of what practical use is his versatility in art? Maybe the cynics in his
family were right and John should have listened. Art is indeed very
impractical. 

On
the other hand, the root of all his artistic talent is his highly creative
mind. After all, it wasn’t mathematical skill that enabled Albert Einstein to
come up with the theory of relativity… it was his creativity! John beamed as
that random and unpredictable spur of genius suddenly kicked in.

It
was already half past ten, most rural folks are already asleep by that time and
John required a cell phone apart from his own to accomplish his elaborate
scheme. So he walked into the lobby of a nearby pool resort, the last potential
place to find anyone with a cell phone. To his luck, he found a young lady,
typing a text message by the front desk. He approached her and asked if he may
be able to prevail upon her to let him send a single SMS for it was a matter of
great urgency. She generously lent him her phone and he immediately typed away
a message for his friend Jim. 

“GUD
PM! DIS IS DR. MANGUIAT. IM SORI 2BOTHER U. I’V BIN TRYING 2CONTAK JOHN BUT HIS
CP IS OUT OF REACH. HE USED DIS # EARLIER SO I’M HOPING MAYBE HE’S STIL W/ U,
IF SO, KINDLY TEL HIM HIS ULTRASOUND RESULT WASN’T GOOD AND HE SHUD CALL ME
IMMEDIATELY. TNX.”

The
message was intended to distress Jim and Jack who was both aware John was
complaining about UTI and has suspicions that it might be from kidney failure.
It will make them so anxious they’ll be distracted from the whole game and
would have to implore John to take the medications that will be given to him by
the good doctor. But John will adamantly say no to them because medications as
such must not be taken with an empty stomach, and he, being too pompous to
yield from the challenge and doesn’t want to lose to both of them, will insist
to finish the game first. He will be as stubborn as a seven year old until Jim
and Jack will be compelled to buy him his dinner just to get the stupid game
over with. 

John
intends to claim an all out victory by conning the conmen.

But
then again, aside from his fertile imagination and highly creative mind, John
also posses an uncanny ability to attract weird circumstances that get him to
his goal though in a manner quite different from what he initially intended.
It’s either luck or a fluke, call it what you will but he refer to it as “the
warp zone”. As he sat down and waited for his friends, the young lady from whom
he borrowed a cell phone from tapped his shoulder and said “Hello. Sorry,
nabasa ko kasi sa outbox yung message mo (giggles) and I got very curious.
Doctor ka?” 

John
quickly explained to her the game he and his friends were playing and the young
lady found it quite hilarious so they had a hearty laugh. As their conversation
went on, it was by and by revealed that her parents happen to own the pool
resort and she’s waiting there for her cousins and classmates from the University of Baguio for a pool party in celebration
of their semestral break. Bored in her wait but surprised to be acquainted with
such an interesting fellow, she proposed with a smile: “E kung pakainin na lang
kaya kita para matapos na yang game nyo?”

And
so the story ends with the three pilgrims partying all night with the girls
from the University of Baguio. Without a
single dime spent, John was not only able to finish his challenge but was also
able to get all three of them a place to stay with unlimited supply of food and
ice cold beverages. He eventually slept with that young lady and even provided
Jim and Jack the opportunity to get laid themselves.

Moral
lesson 1: Artistic talent is practical, the Japanese people can attest to that.

Moral
lesson 2: The winner doesn’t take it all; he acquires more than enough and
shares it.

Moral
lesson 3: UTI is not sexually transmittable, the lady from UB. can attest to
that.

((salvaged from me old blog)

(1:34pm, 07/19/05, mawnday)

i
have just finished the vocal mix on "a cynical lover’s ballad" and
suddenly fell under this lethargic spell… gave out a big yawn and
noticed the heavy rain has finally died down, the faint sun behind
blue-grey clouds seem ready to burst with tutty-fruity flavors any
minute now. you could almost imagine hearing bright-feathered birds
chirping a gladsome melody right outside the window whilst squirrels
with nimble eyelashes frolic around a big freakin’ nut.

normally,
i would have strode off somewhere forthwith to try and make the best
out of a sickening disney-like monday afternoon as such. instead, i
found myself right here, trapped inside my dilapidated quarters, in
front of a lent laptop, rummaging through olden freeze frames and
keepsakes that had accumulated dusts after years of confinement in
half-forgotten shoeboxes.

…i’m a tim burton character in the cheesiest disney film conceivable…

when
today’s forsaken hope would only be accentuated by tomorrows’ heartless
verification, what else is there but to resort to punctured past?… i
guess that’s what this is all about; a pathetic effort to try and
finally figure out who i’ve been… so i may have a hint on what i’m
bound to be… i’ve done this a million times and i should know better
than to give in yet again to another urge of nostalgic ego tripping
which my enthusiasm would eventually abandon half-way through… but
here i go again…

my
wonder years… ah, here’s a rather happy picture of me with a couple of
lads i grew up with; the three pesky runts of 10 de julio st.,… noel,
the cry baby, grew up to be a US marine while aris, the little runt,
became a PBA player… oh, and then there’s me of course, the daydreamer…
who ended up as a starving artist/musician…

…great start, shithead…

(4:16pm, same day)

‘was
suspended in a miserable stupor after my last entry and eventually fell
asleep… i think i should go for a walk and get some sun.

(9:45pm, after trudging)

‘went
to the tailor and finally got me new pants. i then ate a bowl-full of
scrumptious chami from the town’s oldest pansiteria (mabuhay si ka
timing!). stopped by a cyber café’ and surprisingly found some
refreshing sunlight from an intellectually stimulating individual… i
headed next to russell and samantha’s shoe shop and had a glimpse of HP
book 6. they offered to lend it to me overnight but i graciously
declined and settled instead for their DVD set of smallville seasons
1-4. the couple later decided to give me an advanced birthday treat. we
had dinner at pizza hut…

ah… sunlight…

(10:37pm, in the beauty of an ending day, back with the old shoebox)

i’m
the fruit of a transient fixation between a stubborn campus queen and a
young yet spineless college professor… the union, of course, didn’t
last long… and from the facts i’ve gathered from me folks, i was
supposedly brought forth to existence under a very bad spell, around
midnight, while the nation was under DST (daylight saving time);
causing a slight dilemma on what date should be put on my birth
certificate. so, apparently, i was born in between days… and judging
by the said circumstances, it’s easy to say that i’m one of mother
nature’s unwanted offspring…

…hah! ‘figures…

(12 midnight, in between days)

as
expected, the retrospective investigation proved futile… but it’s
well compensated by a considerably complete day (minus getting laid)…
finished a song, got new pair o’ pants, noodles, warm missives, a
promising acquaintance, old devoted friends, dinner and thoughts… it
started out raining cats and dogs and ended up like a summer day…
couldn’t describe it any better than the way holden’s little sister did
in j.d. salinger’s "a catcher in the rye"…

and all the while i thought this was going to end as another tragic write…

…happy birthday to myself…

(salvaged from me old blog)

I loath seeing these pseudo-surveys and pathetic Q&A thingies flooding the friendster bulletin board. To me they’re nothing but pathetic excuses to glorify one’s self and brandish egotism like a glimmering flag to everyone else. sometimes i’d see one posted by a friend whom i concidered intelectual enough for these kind of shit and wonder WTF!  has gottten to her/him playing along with these rubbish?

ok, ok… this is "friendster" nonetheless and not "anti-socioster", i can give you that much but come on! i mean why waste our time with these "pa-cute" nonsense? can’t people post point of views instead? stories perhaps, be it rather extreme or seemingly stupid, but from which society might essentially benefit or learn from?

Then, i woke up this morning and found this… this is what i call the CREEP of the CRAP! coz it’s both creepy and crappy and tops ‘em all. I wonder who’s the shithead behind this and what he’s gotten out of it. maybe he’s laughing right now telling his buddies "dude, i wiped shit off my ass and people passed it around! man, i’m cool!"

*sigh* i’m not openminded, heh? ok, i’ll try this once and figure out maybe i’m tragically wrong.

Psycopathic Tendencies

1. Have you ever killed an animal or have been cruel to one?

- connived in frustrated murder. We flushed a stray kitten in a toilet once but it resurfaced a few minutes later.

2. Did you feel guilty, contented or indifferent afterwards?

-  i thought it was fucking hilarious, especially when it got out (we didn’t see it though). We only heard the soft meow immediately followed by some other boardmate’s scream: "Ay, Pooootaaa!!!" as he stormed out of the cubicle aghast and clueless, sweating like a pig with his pants still half-down. We never told him what we did… i believe he still think it was the siopao he ate.

3. When was the last time you cried? What was it about?

- about 3 months ago. had a swollen heart, i bled it through my eyes…

4. If you can time travel and get a chance to talk to yourself, would you go 10 years ahead or 10 years backwards? What single thing would you ask/tell your younger/older self?

- i’d go back and tell myself : it’s a topsy turvy ride up ahead, kid. the world’s upside down. people pass around shitty questionaires and adore it. you gotta see it to believe it. don’t worry, you’ll get through it all in one piece.

5. Have you ever been in a fist-fight? How were you provoked?

- thrice. that’s as much as i can recall, and it all hapened during my highshool sophomore year. one was against kerubee kalaw, a kid i bullied around back in 5th grade who then got a lot bigger than me. I only fought back to break off from his Hulk Hogan headlock that could have potentially lead to a german suplex. Next was with Julius Bagasbas, my bestfriend in class. Asaran lang over a Tetris game. Last one was a childish macho thing. i wanted to impress a frat so i picked on this silent kid, Roderick Matibag, until he snapped and we got rowdy inside the classroom.

6. Have you ever fell in love with another person? How did it go?

- of course. let’s just say i should have known better.

7. Have you ever been broken-hearted? what did you do to get over it?

- saddly, yes. had a nice warm bath, sulked for a couple of weeks, wallowed for a whole day, bought an AK semi-automatic riffle the next morning, made a deathlist and now i’m down to eight names. make it nine, soon as i find out who’s behind this questionaire.

8. Do you have unsettled parental issues? What was it about?

- ja, with my father. i was already in college when i finally got to meet him. gave him another chance on fatherhood but he proved to be a spineless and selfrighteous piece of turd. he’s under emperor Palpatine’s control all this time.

9. Have you ever been physically abused?

-  in highschool, when i was training as a junior officer for CAT. got bitch slapped, kicked in the abdomen, hit by a riffle, water tortured, forced to eat pepper-stuffed tomatoes and all that.

10. Have you ever physically abused anyone?

- yep. i became a CAT officer so it was our turn.

11. Have you ever been sexually abused?

- ok, yes, but willingly to an ex-girlfriend. i broke off with her immediately afterwards. katawan ko lang pala habol n’ya e. hwehehehe.

12. Have you ever sexually abused anyone?

- now, see, i can explain….

13. Have you ever been suicidal or physically abused yourself? why?

- ja. i smoke. it’s a bad habit but it’s one of the few things i can always call my own.

14. Have you ever tried or thought of trying drugs? why?

- ja. i can admit stupidity having been involved with drugs but i’m not stupid enough to formulate some lame reason just to somehow give logic to it. if someone comes saying; aw, it’s because my father beat me up, the girl of my dreams went with some other guy, my parents are divorced. well, that’s bullshit. you tried drugs because it’s available and you’re one curious little rat. that’s all.

15. Have you ever felt sexually attracted to someone from the same sex?

- Fuck no, you twisted fag! stick your dick up your own ass!

16. Have you ever thought of killing a person? Why?

- ja, when i get extremely pissed off but i never intended to actually do it. I just think it’s therapeutical until the anger wans at least. Usually, i channel it through Grand Theft Auto vice city.

17. Have you ever concidered a particular woman to deserve rape?

- no. but with a girl flirting around in a very skimpy outfit, commuting at night with a predominantly male entourage, i won’t be surprised if the morning next i see her lifeless naked picture in the tabloid. gang raped. she probably don’t deserve it but i don’t think she’s completely blameless. can’t use being naive as an excuse now, can she?

18. If you were in college with Adolf Hitler and knew the genocide he’d conduct, would you kill him or convince him out of it?

- neither. butterfly effect. it would alter reality as we know it. how would i know if one of the jews he killed would turn out to be worst than him?

19. Do you think you can work as a death row executioner?

- no. music and art is the path laid under my feet and the only path i intend to walk.

20. Usually in a crowd, do you find yourself inferior or superior?

- i usually find myself odd and inapropriate. it’s up to their egos if they think they’re subordinate or superior over me. either way, i don’t give a fuck.

hoooookay! i’m done. now what? did it make me feel any better?

hmmmm, lemme see… NO!  so where should i get the psychological evaluation on this then, huh? there’s none? so did i at least win the living room showcase? did this help reduce pollution in some way? did this resurect mahatma gandhi or john lennon? but i do wish it proved my point.

July 15, 2005

I am not my father’s son

I may have inherited his gene

 -Of which
there’s nothing I can do-

But I don’t bear the same character as he has

For I am an individual who believes in individuality.

My soul is unique.

It empowers me to elude the path

That lead him to his own detriment

And gave me the backbone to declare

That I am grateful to have met him

-19 years overdue,
if I may add-

  For now I know exactly
what I shouldn’t be.

Instead of a mere fruit that could only fall close to its
tree,

I consider myself a knife

Continuously forged and sharpened by
my own decisions.

I strive not to end up like him.

I will not be drunken by the benefits of being a big fish in
a small pond

I will be a whale in the great blue yonder

But I will not end up alone.

I am his offspring

But was never his child.

I am the son of the fatherless world his absence has left me
to.

Only God has the right to call me His own.

Sakay ng bus mula Cubao, manaog ka sa Robinson’s Place-Lipa, tawid papuntang Mcdo-Bus stop TODA, sabihin mo "Granja lang, manong", (nota: linawin mo na "GRANJA" at siguraduhin mo din na tricycle driver nga talaga ang kausap mo dahil baka pamaya niyan e talampunay pa ang ibigay sa’yo). Wag kang papayag na tataas pa sa trenta pesos ang singil, di bale sana kamo kung papaypayan ka nya at may libreng footspa habang nasa biyahe.

Matapos makipagbaratan, alinman sa isikot ka ng drayber sa kabayanan o di kaya’y ipasok ka sa kalye Syete de Hunyo kung saan may masukal na lagusan papasok sa aming baranggay. Bilinan ang drayber na magdahan-dahan dahil apat sa labingtatlong humps na madadaaanan dito ay pawang invisible. Makalipas ang limang minuto, makikita mo sa gawing kanan ang mala-paraisong pasyalang-bayan na may basketball, volleyball at tennis courts bukod pa ang olympic-size pool.

Pag sapit sa tapat ng ospital uusisain ka na ng drayber "San ga dine?", itugon mo "kakaliwa po tayo sa sunod na kanto" at ito nga ang gagawin ng luging obrero. Makaliko, matatanaw agad ang basang lupa kunsaan may naglalarong batang hubo. Pumara ka na at magbayad. Abutan mo na rin ng dyes sentimos yung batang hubo para makabili naman siya ng salawal. Pagbaba, magbigay-pitagan sa mga tambay kung gusto mo pang makauwi ng buhay (lalu na kay Tukne, yung dura ng dura at may naka-tattoo na "BAHALA NA" sa leeg.) Pumaling ka sa direksyon ng masangsang na amoy at masusumpungan mo ang kumpol ng mga bakal at bote na binabantayan ng asong mistulang pinipig-crunch ang balat. Wag mahihiyang humiyaw at nang ika’y pagbuksan.

Yun ang aming hamak na barungbarong, sa kanila n’yo itanong kung nasaan na ako… Pero kwidaw! Kung masusumpungan mo ang ermat ko na hawak-hawak ang kanyang mahiwagang frying pan, tumakbo ka na at wag nang magtangka pang usisain siya. Pihadong nakalimutan nanaman niyang inumin ang kanyang medikasyon!

Apathy struck me yesterday so i decided to kill time by taking on line IQ tests. here are the results:

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I went out for a merienda break then took the same test again (using a different email address) and filled it up with the same exact answers as before. The result was upsetting:

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Wow! I never thought a couple of cigarettes and a ten peso worth of fishballs could kill that much brain cells in less than thirty minutes and cost me thirteen IQ points. But so far, from the four exams I took, I’m averaging 133 and that’s okay, right? I mean, now I know I’m definitely not an orc. So with that much of "Intelligence Quotient" spiked and stirred (tongue in cheek) by my skill in digital art and sardonic nature, i took the exam again here is what I got:

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Is it cheating? Well, yeah you can call it that but try to see it my way: I’m only making a mockery of this big mockery. These IQ test are all flawed and very unreliable. They’re culturally biased to start with. A Manobo would first have to interpret the english questions to his native language before he could even process what the question’s about, meaning he have to work twice as hard than a person born and bred in the english dialect but wouldn’t be given any crdit for it. Half the questions were more of assesments of what a person know. Correct me if I am wrong but, from what I understand, knowledge is what a person learned from books and institutions but wisdom is the ability to weild that knowledge regardless of its vastness or lack thereof.

These IQ tests are no different from questionaires entitled "How Good are You in Bed?" by Dr. Love, "Emotional Stability Quiz" from Cosmo, "Are You a Chick-magnet?" by FHM. Yeah, sure, they’re all formulated by well-known authorities but they are all still merely rough estimates based on currently prevailing standards until some radical mind comes forth to topple down the established norm the way Isaac Newton did back in his time. Mind you; every great advancement in natural knowledge required absolute rejection of tradition.

This is the same reason why I dropped out of Fine Arts and resolved to studying by myself without any guidance. I have my respects to my UST profesors, they were all experts and might even be able to piss on a wall, spell their name and make something more coherent than my best doodles but I simply don’t believe art should be graded based on their personal aesthetics. I think it shouldn’t be graded at all. Art should be boundless, right? I could have put up with the system, get good grades by presenting them with what they want to see but that would be making a joke of myself. I’d rather learn from my own folly than be contained by theirs.

Bottomline is; we can not let these intellectual assesment exams or any other human measures tell us who we are and shackle us with their standards. IQ certificates, BFAD approval, a pardon, a long article of commendation in a newspaper by a well-known critic… They’re all paper. Having a licence doesn’t neccessarilly prove or make you a responsible owner of a gun in as much as earning a diploma from the University of the

Philippines

doesn’t mean you’re intellectually superior than the graduates of Pamantasang Hindurupot.

I’ll say it again; they’re only paper. Man-made. Hand them to me and I’ll wipe my ass with it.