Of Beer and Pen

2009-02-03T20:37:00.002+08:00

DANCING SOLDIERS

2009-01-09T08:08:00.006+08:00

Found this clip at YouTube. The comment of the person who uploaded the video was even funnier.

THE SWEETEST THINGS

2008-03-06T18:12:00.002+08:00

“History does not record this, this passing of memory to momentary madness, needless impermanence, the lassitude of loving.” –Angelo V. Suarez, from The Nymph of MTV

There will come a time in everyone’s life when all the best things that happened will finally come to an end—childhood ended after elementary and innocence ended after high school. Each of them holds different memories that we can bring along as we journey on with our lives. And for every door that closed and opened, we can only look back and reminisce.
Sometimes, we miss playing with our G.I. Joes or shying away from the class muse. We miss staying up day and night to write our term paper for the terror teacher or climbing down from the second floor of our dormitory at midnight to have a much-needed mug of beer. And as years go by, eventually, we start missing life itself.
One of life’s inevitable features is leaving behind what we dearly hold on to – when it is not just an option but rather a necessity because we need to seek what we know will put us in a better position later on in our lives.
The moment I graduated from high school was the moment I knew I had to leave the old town where I lived my whole life. I knew I had to venture to a new place and learn to ease my way in.
Before I arrived in Dumaguete four years ago, I had no idea about what the place was like and even less about Silliman University. I was so bad in geography that I had to check the Philippine map to locate Dumaguete and Negros Oriental. I was to become the only Sillimanian in the family, the first among my two older siblings to choose a school that was a boat-ride away from my hometown in Bukidnon. The only thing I knew about Silliman was from the university brochure given to me when I took the SUAPE. What made me chose this university (despite the objections of my parents) was my high expectation about the education I thought would be the best for me.
But four years after, I got more than what I expected. Here, I found more about myself, my passions, and what my life would be like after graduation. Here, I found that more lessons are learned outside the classrooms, that my experiences shaped me to become who I am today, that people come and go into my life and I can never tell which one will remain, that there is nothing absolute in life, and that love remains elusive.
Now, I must ready myself to let go of this phase of my life as another door is about to open before me. I must ready myself to let go of being a student who is financially supported by his parents, I must ready myself for a stage where being a student is not an excuse for making mistakes. I must ready myself to wake up early in the morning whether I like it or not. After graduation I must brace myself to face the bigger, more challenging and much harsher world, and I must embrace my maturity despite my desire to forever remain a child.
It’s not easy to leave something behind, especially leaving something that is already part of myself. Dumaguete offered a lot of things to me. I am now spending the little time I have in recounting these memories because they are the sweetest things that I could look back onto whenever nostalgic sentiments overwhelm me.
Writing this last column reminds me of the three years I spent as part of the Weekly Sillimanian staff. Waiting for my remaining week as a college student reminds me of those long hours spent in the antiquated chambers of Guy Hall scrambling with my deadlines, while the College of Performing Arts plays Mozart in the background. I will miss having classes in the only place in the university where you can experience what it is like to have a class beside the sea.
Dumaguete has been so good to me but I know that I don’t belong here. After graduation I have to leave this place and only fate knows where it would take me next. I don’t know when can I return here or whether I will ever be back again.
Sometimes you must know how to let go of something no matter how heavy it is in your heart to do it. And sometimes it is better to know from the start that everything—even the sweetest things that happen in life—have to end.

LITERARY NEWBITS AND SPEAKING OF'S

2007-11-28T17:09:00.000+08:00

NEWSBIT No. 1

After winning the Grand Prize last year, Sir Ian once again emerged as winner (2^nd place) of the 2nd Philippine Graphic/Fiction Awards for his short fiction “The Sugilanon of Epefania’s Heartbreak”, making him the only person to win consecutively in the Gaiman contest. Take that from someone who also won in this year’s Palanca Awards.

NEWSBIT No. 2

Speaking of Neil Gaiman...
Thanks to Sir Ian, I had my copy of Neil Gaiman’s “Smoke and Mirrors: Short Fictions and Illusions” autographed by the literature’s rock star himself, which means that I could probably auction it for Php100,000 fifty years from now.

NEWSBIT No. 3

Speaking of the Neil Gaiman Award…
LitCritters Manila Andrew Drilon also bagged the 2^nd place in the comic category for his “Lines and Spaces.”

NEWSBIT No. 4

Speaking of 2^nd places…
The Dark Blue Southern Seas, the literary supplement of the Weekly Sillimanian, was awarded by the College Editor’s Guild of the Philippines-Visayas 2^nd place and the only winner in the literary folio category during the 1^st Lubas Awards last October 24, 2007.

NEWSBIT No. 5

Speaking of LitCritters…
After many months of trying to write the story and until now I’m still not done, this is perhaps the hardest LitCritters Dumaguete challenge yet. With our ‘out-of-our-comfort-zones’ challenge and being deemed as the masculinist of the group, my challenge has a specification to write “a gay love story that will make all of us swoon.” Now how the heck are you going to write a story like that?

NEWSBIT No. 6

Speaking of fiction writing…
While attempting to finish my LitCritters Original fiction, I was also asked, at the same time, to write a short story for the Portal yearbook. The story is supposed to set in World War II Dumaguete and I’m supposed to write this for the students of the School of Basic Education. In just a day and in just one sitting, I finished my children story which is about a boy who uses his imagination to escape the realities of war.

SO, YOU'RE GOING TO CENSOR ME THIS TIME?

2007-09-03T15:47:00.000+08:00

Perhaps the most underrated and misunderstood genre - be it in film, literature, painting, or in photography - is erotica. Many don't take this genre seriously, don't accept it as a form of art, and label it as pornography either because of people's personal religious prejudice, or morality issues, or simply because of their cultural ignorance.

It has been an old age claim that erotica is nothing but plain pornography and since then, those who believe themselves as "moralists" institutionalized censorship to respond to this. Many books and magazines are banned, many films are withheld from public screening, many paintings and photographs are burned, and many artists were jailed because of this offense.

Censorship has been a perpetual battle cry of many artists, saying that it kills their artistic freedom. National Artist for Literature Jose Garcia Villa once said that a piece of art should be appreciated as it is-as an art.

So where do we really draw the line between erotica and pornography?

Something 'sexually explicit' does not necessary equate to porn. If it titillates, stimulates (cerebrally or sexually) and doesn't leave one feeling degraded, then it's erotic. If it makes one feel ashamed, alarmed, disarmed, dis-empowered and repulsed, then it's porn.

American writer Erica Jong said that erotica celebrates the erotic nature of the human creature…and does so artfully, dramatically. Pornography on the other hand, serves simply as an aid to self-gratification, with no artistic pretension and no artistic value.

In erotica, the artists exhibit respect for all their characters. There is a motivation for the characters to act as they do, and they are portrayed as living, feeling beings, with an existence above and beyond their sexuality. Even if all you see in the scene described is sex, you are aware of the characters being human. There is likely to be at least an intimate relationship between the characters.

In the case of pornography, one or more of the characters is liable to exist solely to perform sex. There is no feeling of connection to, or respect for, these characters.

In Philippine literature, Villa was sanctioned for producing a work deemed to be pornographic. He was kicked out of the University of the Philippines for publishing a poem called "Man Song". Fast forward to contemporary time, another National Artist for Literature F. Sionil Jose wrote a very graphic rape scene in his short story "Dalipawen" and labelled it as children story. He was not penalized for it.

In the earliest history of film, Thomas Edison caused a very big controversy when his film showed a couple kissing in front of the camera he invented. But looking at this kind of display now, even Disney animated films have kissing scenes.

My point is this: standards change. Novelists D.H. Lawrence once said, "What is pornography to one man is the laughter of genius to another."

The novels with erotic contents of Henry Miller, Georges Bataille, Marquis de Sade, and Pauline Réage are now considered as important literary classics. Alfonso Cuaron's Y Tu Mama Tambien, which has a very sexual opening scene, was nominated for Best Original Screenplay in the Oscar. Jose Javier Reyes' Live Show, although banned in the Philippines, reaped awards and praises in international film festivals.

The ones who usually pose immorality issues against erotica usually get treated by history as 'hypocrites' who didn't know what they were talking about. Your reaction is basically a mirror of who you are. If you want to see something bad, then that's what you'll see. For instance, if you see the word 'penis' or 'vagina' and think it's obscene, then it's really obscene. But if you look at it as something very clinical, something that all people have, then there's nothing wrong with it. Certainly, a dirty mind sees dirty things.

I believe that erotica is a very underrated genre because snobby "intellectual moralists" are squeaky about sex. They would say that they are protecting the youth from the obscenities brought by erotica, but they are saying this without understanding the attitude of today's youths.

It is an undeniable fact that teenagers, especially college students, are sexually active these days. This is a product of the changing time that many adults don't understand. Teenagers can get sex everywhere and at the same time they are barraged by MTV and popular culture that they get this wrong information about sexuality. With this, their idea of sex are those scandal VCDs that they can buy at the musliman stalls for only P50 or less, or the unlimited supply of pornography they can get online.

And now comes erotica-which portrays sex in a creative, literary manner-and the "moralists" censor it. So, basically, they are pulling this kind of sex to the background. It is basically unsafe for the youth because it coats the whole thing into a forbidden territory. Nobody talks about it, so it becomes more dangerous.

A lot of people loathe erotica because a lot of them just feel that they are holy individuals. They like to think that they are so saintly than others, when they could just probably be covering their own insecurities about their own lives.

The youths these days spend most of their time developing their minds and careers, and are told very little of value about the emotional and the sexual. If those "moralists" really cared as much as they say they do about character development and depth, then they should realize that the danger comes in when that kind of information is deprived from them.

PALANCAS FOR LITCRITTERS

2007-08-18T17:38:00.000+08:00

He turned 32 yesterday.

He won 3rd place on this year's Don Carlos Palanca Awards.

This is his 3rd Palanca.

Yes, my writing mentor, LitCritters Dumaguete moderator, and favorite person in the world is this year's 3rd place winner of the Palanca Awards for Children Story. What's so amazing is that this winning short fiction, "The Last Days of Magic" is the story that Sir Ian wrote for our first writing challenge in LitCritters Dumaguete last February. The story will also be published in the upcoming PEN Anthology, to be edited by Vicente Groyon III.

Here's more:

Speculative fiction guru and LitCritters founder Dean Francis Alfar will receive his 10th Palanca this year. His "Poor, poor Luisa," is the 2nd placer, also in the Children Story category.

TAKING A BUKID BOY AWAY FROM HIS MOUNTAIN

2007-08-14T18:16:00.000+08:00

Living in Bukidnon for the 20 years of your life would deprive you from experiencing this kind of beauty.

BUS JOKE

2007-08-08T16:54:00.000+08:00

What started as a bus joke....

...is now bound to break the jinx that inflicted the College of Mass Communication for the last 8 years.

ALL IS WELL

2007-07-21T15:36:00.000+08:00

You wake up minutes before the time you set your cellphone to alarm the night before. It is still dark outside and you can hear your roommate snoring on the other side of the room. The clock of your cellphone, which is just behind the headboard, read: 5:30am. You could still close your eyes for another minute of sleep but then a lot of things had been going on in your mind, which is the very reason why you wake up unusually this early even though today is Saturday
Things are rushing in your mind like the first time you read the book—you were not yet in high school then—and you believed that you were the only one in school who knew Harry Potter.
You fell in love to the Boy-Who-Lived and the fact that you wore glasses made you fantasized that you were the real Harry Potter. When you read the first book, it was you that you imagined living on the closet under the staircase of the Dursley, it was you who ate the Every Flavor Beans and Chocolate Frogs inside Hogwarts Express, that it was you who caught the Golden Snitch and brought victory to Gryffindor.
If only you have a lightning bolt-shaped scar on your forehead, then you have all the reason to believe that an owl will soon come to your house at daytime to deliver your letter from Hogwart.
When you were in second year high school you covered the bulletin board of your classroom with cutout pictures of Harry Potter and at that time many still don’t know him and a classmate thought that Harry Potter was your personal pseudonym, that you were just making it up.
But later that year the movie came out and that was the start of the hype. Everybody knew Harry Potter. Everybody claimed they were Harry Potter. And you felt betrayed, cheated. You felt that what was yours was taken away from you and claimed by everyone else. Now that everybody loved Harry Potter, you didn’t find it cool anymore.
You still buy yourself copies though and you still love the book more than the Goosebumps that you used to collect when you were in elementary.
Deep inside you, you still tell yourself that you are Harry Potter and that you are the only one with authority to be called as a fan since you know that you were the first to read and love the books than anyone you know.
You’ve been saving your allowance for months just to buy the fifth and sixth books on the first day of its release.
Now that the Deathly Hallows will be released any minutes from now, you think that buying the book would be the perfect gift that you could give to yourself since it was your birthday a week ago.
You check again the time on your cellphone: 5:45am.
You could still go back to sleep but your feeling of excitement overcomes your desire to doze. So you jump off your bed and instantly take a shower.
After changing your clothes, you check again the time: 6:15am.
The bookstore will open at 7am and you need to be there the moment it opens its door. This is the last of the saga, everything will wrap up today and you have a mix feeling on this. Harry Potter became part of you adolescent years, the years you experienced all the turbulence a confused, curious mind could have. These days, just when you turned 20, you realize that Harry Potter has somehow defined your teenage years. Your fascination toward the books can be matched up to the fascination you had toward Ninja Turtles when you were still a kid, but minus the Ninja Turtles outfits you wore from head to toe.
Time check: 6:17am.
You are sitting on your desk, waiting for the time to near 7am since the bookstore is just a walking distance away from your dormitory. Your roommates are still sleeping.
Who will die in the book? Will Hermione really die as what the spoilers from the internet say? Who will die between Harry and Voldemort? Of course Voldemort will die, he is the bad guy… but Harry may also die and JK Rowling could always come up with a good reason if it will happen….
Time check: 6:20am.
Is the time even moving?
What will happen to Dobby? Did Dumbledore really die? How about Sirius Black? What will happen to the Dursley at Number 4 Privet Drive? Is Snape really on Voldemort’s or Dumbledore’s side?
Time check: 6:26am.
You start to become sentimental. Harry Potter will end, it keeps on repeating in you mind.
Harry Potter will end.
You remember Harry when he was still a baby and how Hagrid brought him to Privet Drive through a flying motorcycle. How the glass wall in the zoo disappeared on the thin air and setting free a snake that caused panic to Aunt Petunia. How Harry ran straight through the platform between 9 and 10 to reach platform 9¾ at King Cross station. How Harry learned to plant Mandrakes without becoming deaf. How Harry first mounted on a broomstick and how he received a Nimbus 2000 as gift from Professor McGonaggal.
Time check: 6:33am.
In high school you were at rage when the book was banned by private schools, saying that it was satanic and all those crappy claims. When your friends borrowed from you the book, you would instruct them to carefully read the book in such a way that there would be no creases on its spine when they open it.
In high school, you read the Sorcerer’s Stone eight times, the Chamber of Secrets six times, as well as the Prisoner of Azkaban, and four times for the Goblet of Fire.
Harry Potter will end.
You feel that after all those books, you already know Harry Potter like a best friend. And now that it will end, you feel that are about to bid goodbye.
Time check: 6:42am.
Now it is time to go to the bookstore. You step out of your room and the lobby is very quite, everyone is still sleeping.
Outside, the morning is sultry even though the sun has just risen. Your excitement has doubled this time. You seem to be walking unconsciously in the school campus because you can’t clear off your mind the thought of finally reading the last of the series.
Who will die in the book? Will it be Hermione or Ron? How about between Harry and Voldemort?
You hardly notice the first year students crowding at the Amphitheater for their NSTP.
Did Dumbledore really die? How about Sirius black? What will happen to the Dursley at Number 4 Privet Drive? Is Snape really evil?
Your feet seem to do all the walking because the next thing you know you are already standing outside National Bookstore, which is just outside the campus.
Time check: 7:03am.
The security guard opens the glass door and you enter, seeing that there is already a line of people at the cashier. You see familiar faces, but you miss to give a smile since you hurriedly walk directly to the Customer Service counter and you show to them your reservation receipt.
After you pay the rest of the amount at the cashier (you have a 10% discount, by the way), you have your first glimpse of the book, and its orange jacket seem to glow before your eyes as the lady put it inside the cellophane. You instantly get your book and you can’t wait to open it, to smell its pages, to scan the content, to savor the words.
You hope your LitCritter meeting today will be cancelled so that you could read the book for the whole day, uninterrupted.
Shit you still need to edit articles for the Weekly Sillimanian.
But you can deal with that later.
What you need now is coffee. And at once, you are walking toward Dunkin Donut, the first place that comes into your mind that is open at this time. You order the biggest cup, find yourself a seat and right away take the book out of its red plastic bag.
You run your hand on the jacket to feel its texture before opening it.
And now you are finally reading it as if the book is about to reveal the greatest secret of the universe.

KISS MONTAGE

2007-07-16T20:30:00.000+08:00

The best film montage of kisses from the movie I consider to be my favorite, Cinema Paradiso.

ANGST NO. 2

2007-07-13T20:06:00.000+08:00

After I turned 20 just days ago, I had my picture taken for the Portal yearbook this morning! Damn! I don't feel good about all these!

BIRTHDAY ANGST

2007-07-10T18:15:00.000+08:00

Oh shit, I'm already 20!!!!

LIFE IN THE BUKID...(NOW I WANT TO GO HOME!)

2007-07-08T19:43:00.000+08:00

...because I know he won't mind if I do this, I stole this YouTube clip from Prime's Friendster account... hehehe!

104 YEARS OF CAMPUS JOURNALISM

2007-06-21T19:01:00.000+08:00

GOING BEYOND SCHOOL PAPER
AND A STORY OF PEN, WORDS AND TRUTH

Hundred and four years of existence may seem too long for a school publication. It means it had witnessed the country's survival to the challenges of history. Hundred and four years means 1903 - just little time after the Spaniards packed their baggage and left the country after three centuries of colonization. The paper was there to take part as the Americans took control over the country, it experienced the ravages of Japanese inhibition, and it became a victim of dictatorship that lead to its temporary closure. Hundred and four years and the paper are still alive and breathing. Its mantras are still the same – towards a progressive campus press – and serving as avenue for students’ voice and story that is fueled with the values of service, fairness, and truth.

At the height of the American’s power over the Philippines, the alleged first campus publication in Negros Oriental, and most probably the whole country, was launched in January of 1903. The periodical was named the Silliman Truth, and the project of putting out this newspaper started off when philanthropist Dr. Horace Brismade Silliman supplemented the ‘small job press’ that Dr. David Sutherland Hibbard acquired during his trip to Japan, with a $400 grant for the purchase of a ‘real’ school press.

Being the first publication of the province, Silliman Truth was not only for campus but also for public or community use as well.

The Silliman Truth was a multilingual newsletter. It used English, Spanish, and Cebuano interchangeably. It contained articles in English, Beatitudes in Cebuano, and a number of other bilingual personal items. For some years the back page of Silliman Truth was given over to Sunday school lessons which were in the vernacular.

In 1920, Silliman Truth was replaced by the bi-weekly The Sillimanian, with the first issue released during the school year 1920-1921. Silliman Truth still existed though, but it was turned as the official publication of Silliman’s Board of Trustees, and came out once a month.

The first issue of the new Sillimanian did not necessarily depart from the original format of the Silliman Truth. Though it was a little bigger in size, it still contained similar items as its predecessor.

The Sillimanian didn’t have a consistent number of pages when it came out fortnightly in the first half of the 1920s, and bi-monthly in the later part of the decade. The pages varied from four to six pages, depending on who the editor was, or how much fund they got to sustain a regular campus paper. Interestingly, the paper was even circulated around the world at that time, especially to the alumni, with a subscription of P1.00 for a year.

The outbreak of the Second World War caused fear all over the province, as the Japanese found its feet on the shores of Negros.

The Sillimanian, together with people from the University, fled to the hills at the height of the war, to avoid the Japanese juggernaut which came to occupy the island, and to settle in the campus.

From the start of the war to when the Japanese started occupying the campus and until the liberation in the mid-1940s, daily dispatches were published by The Sillimanian. It carried wires about what was happening in the warfronts of Europe, Australia, and the Pacific Rim. The paper was used as propaganda to update the citizens of the province. It also published items of encouragement for the troops, and for the Filipinos who were beginning to lose hope.

The 1940s eventually saw the end of the war, the liberation of the Philippines, the subsequent establishment of the Third Philippine Republic under Manuel Roxas, and after almost forty-eight years of American dominance, the Philippines became a newly independent nation on 1946. In Silliman, there was not that much war damage and people began rebuilding the once glorious University, finally coming down from the mountains to reestablish the foremost Christian university in Asia.

To ease the trauma caused by the war, The Sillimanian came up with an ingenious plan to sponsor a contest by recognizing the beautiful faces on the campus. Later on, this became the prestigious Miss Silliman, which was claimed to be the oldest beauty pageant in the country, if not the world.

A lot of things were happening all over the world during the 50s. The Cold War was brewing between the United States and the Soviet Union, and 1953 saw the inauguration of the third president of the new Republic with Ramon Magsaysay.

Meanwhile, in the island of Negros, The Sillimanian continued to be newspaper for the community as well as for the campus. Subscription at that time was P2.00 a year.

To show the multilingualism of the newspaper, the 1950s issues of the paper had a Spanish section. Editorial cartoons lifted from international newspapers with hard-hitting themes about the cold war between the United States and the Soviet Union was a mainstay of the paper then.

The lay-out of the paper changed monthly. There were editors for each of the Literary, Society, City, and Spanish sections of the paper. An added feature of the paper was a column titled Pitak sa Wikang Pambansa, where writers wrote in Filipino.

The year 1957 was a significant year of the rise of The Sillimanian. This was the year when it was awarded a First Place certificate by the Columbia Scholastic Press Association (CSPA). The publication was not a member of the Association but it won on its first try.

Being awarded a First Place certificate was one of the highest honors bestowed to a campus publication, and The Sillimanian bested other contestants from the United States and other college publications from all over the world.

Headed by Editor Samuel Occena, The Sillimanian made its presence felt among other campus newspapers by featuring articles that the CSPA considered “very expressive and thought-provoking.” It was truly the dawn of the new The Sillimanian. It was both member of the College editors Guild of the Philippines and the CSPA. It affirmed the status of The Sillimanian as one of the leading campus newspaper in the country.

The mid 1960s saw the ascension of Ferdinand Marcos to the highest office of the land. The following years of the Marcos’ administration changed the whole course of Philippine history, and The Sillimanian was there to play the role of a very vigilant campus press.

The Sillimanian has evolved from a paper that students read for its interesting tidbits about campus personalities and campus life, to a paper that promoted student activism upon entering the dark years of Marcos’ dictatorship.

With martial law declared, the students’ main tool for expressing their thoughts on matters pertaining to the dictatorship of Marcos was through The Sillimanian. A section in the paper, “Ang Bayan,” was devoted to Marxism-Leninism-Kaisipang Mao Tse-tung. This particular section elicited complaints from students, especially from the Student Government, asking why The Sillimanian was being a frontline for the National Democratic Front (NDF) when they should be catering to the students’ needs and interests. The staff retorted that the students should be aware of the present situation. Activism was the fad of the 70s.

Silliman University was at the height of student activism at that time that it paved way to the eventual closure of the University, with no exception to The Sillimanian. Many students were put behind bars and The Sillimanian staffs were not speared.

“There used to be an airy Sillimanian office behind the SU press where we used to spend hours and hours writing reports on heavy-duty Underwood typewriters, discussing trivia, as well as earth moving events and issues—Armstrong’s walk on the moon, Philippine claims on Sabah, the First Quarter Storm, Dumaguete Times, Ferdinand Marcos campaign trail and others.... The significant thing was that everything was significant, and university was life,” recalled current Silliman University Member of the Board of Trustees, Noel Villalba, and former The Sillimanian associate editor (1969-1971)

Former The Sillimanian staff (1975-1976) then later on associate editor of the Weekly Sillimanian (1976-1977), Cecile Madronal Genove shared: “Our journalism class of 1977 has always been a trailblazer. We were privileged to have been tasked with the challenge of comprising the editorial board of The Sillimanian (it was a fortnightly, not yet a weekly) when it was finally revived during the Martial Law. After a year, the paper came out on a weekly basis. The years spent writing for and editing tWS were very memorable. It was in the campus paper that we found an avenue for our creativity. The regiment that we imposed on ourselves as members of the staff taught us discipline. The wisdom that we got from our mentors and advisers has served us in good stead until today.”

The mid-80s ushered in the end of the Marcos dictatorship. The Filipinos had finally awakened from being passive and afraid, joining hand in hand in a bloodless revolution, the 1986 EDSA Revolution.

Sillimanians, on the other hand, especially the staff of the Weekly Sillimanian (the new name of The Sillimanians after it regularly came out in a weekly routine), went to the mountains and had interviews with rebels and military people. The Weekly Sillimanian still wielded its pen in staving off the power being forced upon the people by Marcos.

The 1990s saw the emergence of a new breed of writers for the Weekly Sillimanian. The pages of the paper were full of creative writing articles, spearheaded by creative writer Timothy Montes.

Being part of the Weekly Sillimanian gave not only the values of hard-work, teamwork, and perseverance to its staffers, but it also gave memories and sweet nostalgia.

(1996-1997 staff)
tWS Editor-in-chief Ian Rosales Casocot (1997) recalled: When I became part of the feature staff together with firebrand Dinah Rose Baseleres, I gained entry into a period of the Weekly Sillimanian that would remain to this day its last golden age…. We were also scandalous bunch: we fired two editors-in-chief for various reasons, and transformed the office into a cabaret. I remember Jade Yamut climbing on top of tables to grab the hanging electric fan switch, which she would use as a microphone to sing the songs of Alanis Morrisette. I remember our eternal battles with a crafty midlevel administrator otherwise known as The Witch. I remember Dinah Baseleres making endless prank calls to radio jockeys with irritating American accents. I remember a Christmas party where we all trooped Irma Pal’s house, all dressed in futuristic costumes. Being in the Weekly Sillimanian with that old bunch is one of the best parts of my life. I can even say that that privilege transformed me, and made me what I am today.”

The Weekly Sillimanian did not only became a witness to our nation’s history but it was also there to record it. But a hundred and three years of existence is enough to make the paper an institution and a history in itself.

SUMMER END

2007-06-10T14:55:00.001+08:00

It was not really as sunny as how I expected my summer would turn out to be. For two months, it seemed that the weather had its own daily routine: from sunrise until noon you'd get a fairly hot sunny day, but from past noon until evening you'd get the worst rain and you were crazy if you forgot your jacket when you go out at night.

On my previous post, I wrote that I will not go back to Dumaguete without having a clear mind, but only to find myself in Dumaguete right now and realized how melodramatic I was this summer. A day before I left the bukid, I was arranging my belongings inside my stoller-bag and told myself that my summer break had officially ended. But really, there were a lot of melodramas this summer, topping the list the one I am still uncomfortable to write here. A lot of unexpected things and events had happened. There are a lot of tears, confrontations, coffee talks, sleepless nights, and of course beer.

I was there to share the beer of my high school bestfriend and his father as he was confronted about his adoption, I had a midnight picnic while stargazing for that reported meteor shower night, I received money last election from politicians even though I'm not a registered voter, my friends and I threw a beer glass at someone's house, and even tried something for the first time that made a friend shave his head, and my internship at Cagayan de Oro gave me a taste on what my life will be like if I chose to study there instead of Dumaguete.

This summer was not as fun as last year's but it was still the best, and still-- whether summer or not -- I always get the best whenever I returned home.

IT'LL BE A SUNNY DAY

2007-04-12T19:49:00.000+08:00

Realizing that Globe prepaid's load rates are just too expensive for our convenience, we are now Sun users. Now I'm excited to try the unlimited services.

THE DREAM

2007-04-11T13:28:00.000+08:00

Almost two years ago, I wrote an entry on the private journal that I already abandoned for some time now. If it weren't because of last night's beer talk with Prime, I would not probably remember this journal because that time while we were talking about how things are turning out this days, it suddenly came into my mind that I actually wrote something that has a close relation when I wrote here that 'things might never be the same again.' It's still early to presume how things would turn out from now on, but reading again this entry gave me a haunting feeling that I wish it will never happen. But right now, I'm totaly certain that it will never happen.

I'm posting here that entry dated June 16, 2005

It was a dark and stormy night...
I had a brief dream of Karla and Kitty last night. We were in our high school and the three of us were walking in our playful mood. I was in between them; my one hand was holding Karla's while the other on Kitty's. Then the next thing I knew, when I turned my head behind I saw Ivan and when I looked back at Kitty, she was gone. Then Karla also disappeared as sudden as how my dream drifted on my subconscious mind.
I stirred in my bed as I opened my eyes and realized that it was raining outside and the strongest gust of wind swayed the trees on our dormitory’s backyard and the booming thunder heightens the eeriness of 2 in the morning. It took me a while to bring myself back to sleep. When I woke up after that dream, I was submerged with flowing thoughts on how that dream relates to me. I may not have gotten myself much knowledge on dream interpretations as what Sigmund Freud proposed, but I recalled Alfred Adler and his proposition that dreams have a close association to one's waking life. He suggested that dreams occur when one is troubled by something in his life. You may not believe me but all these thoughts were in my mind during that time when I tried to go back to sleep.
In relation to that dream, I can only deduce one possible interpretation. That dream represents my "fear of losing my friends".
I’ll be on my second year here in Dumaguete and every time I returned back to Malaybalay, whether for a short time or for the rest of the summer, I always had this feeling of not wanting to go back here. During my first few months in college, I had an epiphany that ‘having fun doesn’t mean that you’re happy.’ I’ve been over-using this statement to Greg every time we had a talk when we get drunk but somehow I still adhered to it until now. I am the kind who revered happiness as the ultimate goal of man and failing to attain such could result to self-destruction (think of Vincent Van Gogh, Virginia Woolf and Kurt Cobain).
I have a different experience here every time I hang out with my newfound friends. I don’t get to have that feeling of surreal fun compared to when I was with my old peers. In short, I don’t get to have that same happiness that I always had every time I was with them. To all my friends whom I haven’t had the chance to spend much of my time with, they had no idea how much I misses them and that they are in my mind constantly. And they have no idea how much I wished to myself every time I had a good time here that if only I spent those moments with them, I could be happier.
I still have fear of losing them.

Prime and I agreed that this could be the most turbulent summer that we'll have on the 19 years of our lives. That's why I don't want to go back to Dumaguete without having a clear mind.

TO THE Gs 0.2

2007-04-08T19:59:00.000+08:00

I wish someone
would tell me

it's not true,

but I know no one
would do that.

Oh well, we're not anymore in high school where what we care about is passing our math exams. Things are getting tougher in college and this is just the start for the years to come. I'm just not ready for this--we're not ready for this.

THINGS SO FAR

2007-04-01T17:56:00.000+08:00

I'm already here in my hometown for a week now since I left Dumaguete and I realized that I only ate twice at home for dinner. Now that I'm here, things are getting sweeter, not only the beer. I'm back to my old life of being a nocturnal creature where the word curfew is as distant as my dormitory in Silliman. Things are just starting to kick off now that everyone is done with their final exams. I could only assume how this summer would turn out.

II.

I missed it!

The draw back of being back in Bukidnon and spending too much time with friends is that I totaly forgot about the Dumaguete National Writers Workshop where LitCritters Dumaguete members are expected to apply. I only wrote two stories and the workshop calls for three and I told Sir Ian before that I will just email him my third story, which I'm suppose to write here. The deadline is yesterday and if my fellow LitCritters didn't text that they already sent their manuscripts to the workshop, it would never cross my mind to think about it. But everything's too late for me, so good luck nalang to them.

III.

I'm leaving for Davao tomorrow to supervise the printing of The Silliman Magazine at Midtown Press. The last time I was in Davao was five years ago. I asked Prime to go with me but I changed my mind of spending a night there So i'll just go alone. I'll go back to Malayabalay in the afternoon, which is a 4-hour bus ride from Davao.

TO THE Gs

2007-03-18T14:41:00.000+08:00

Things
might
never
be
the same
again.

ENTRY SENT

2007-03-15T10:25:00.000+08:00

Ignoring the suggestions of Sir Ian and fellow LitCritters on how I can revise my story, I already sent Andoy's Quest to the Bahaghari to the Romeo Forbes Children 's Storywriting Competition. The deadline is today and I already received their confirmation letter that they received my entry.

I don't care about winning this contest. I don't think my story is good enough to win or even just to be included on the short list. But it just amuses me that I'm actually joining a national literary contest for the first time.

I'll just take Sir Nikko's advice: "But just remember that you are not writing for the awards - you are writing for yourself, and the people who care to read what you write."

This is the first short story that I've written and this is our first LitCritters Dumaguete's Original fiction. Our second original fiction will due next weekend and Im still struggling to come up with a plot for my story.

Here's an excerpt of Andoy's Quest to the Bahaghari:

The Great Fire that ravaged the town of Manalog caused too much distress to its people. The fire consumed many of the town’s properties; not only the school, the post office, the church, the market, and the many houses, but also half of the pineapple plantation where the people relied much of their living. Two years after the Great Fire, the town folks were still having a hard time recovering from their loss. Although they already built new establishments to replace what the fire had once devoured, the rest of the plantation had remained unplanted and blackened by ashes. Because of this, the people learned to share with each other what little things that remained on them. What was left from the plantation was divided among all the people of Manalog so that they can still sustain their daily needs.
The people became poor and all of them believed that the only answer to their problem was to get the chests of treasures at the foot of the Bahaghari. But everyone knew that that was the most impossible thing that could ever happen.
“You can’t even point the Bahaghari without losing your finger,” said a man whose index finger was missing.
“You can’t even point it with a stick without it being struck by lightning shooting out of nowhere from the sky and burning it to ashes,” said another man whose hand had scars from burn.
The Bahaghari stretched on a big arch over Mt. Kitanglad. Its seven colors were so bright that it even glittered at night. No one really knew how and when the Bahaghari first appeared in Manalog. No one had been able to climb Mt. Kitanglad. And no one had been able to get near the Bahaghari because of fear of what danger it would do to them. No one except Apo Kaluwaan, that is. He was the last Wise Man of Manalog who died exactly a month after the Great Fire, and the grandfather of Andoy.

WHERE THE WHITE SANDS AND THE CORAL/ KISS THE DARK BLUE SOUTHERN SEAS

2007-03-14T11:19:00.000+08:00

Coming soon...

After five years, the Silliman Magazine is back with me as the Editor-in-Chief. This issue of the maganize, that we called Dark Blue Southern Seas, is composed of short stories, poems, and essays by selected Silliman students. I hope this magazine will answer the question: Is the pen really dry in Silliman?

Thanks for the really wonderful layout sir!

Call for Submissions to the 46th Dumaguete National Writers Workshop

2007-03-02T09:00:00.000+08:00

National Artist for Literature Edith L. Tiempo has announced a March 31 deadline for applications for fellowships to the 46th National Writers Workshop to be held in Dumaguete City from May 7 to 25.

Panelists this year are Gemino Abad, Alfred Yuson, Susan Lara, Anthony Tan, DM Reyes, Marjorie Evasco, and others. They will compose the revolving panel of writers together with National Artist for Literature Edith Lopez Tiempo, and resident panelists César Ruìz Aquino, Bobby Flores Villasis, and Ernesto Superal Yee.

Fifteen (15) fellowships are open for young writers all over the country.

The first screening panel, composed of the workshop's resident writers, selects the writing fellows for the summer based on the manuscripts submitted by the applicants. These selected manuscripts are forwarded to the Director of the Workshop, who does the final screening and formally approves the final lineup of writing fellows.

The writing fellowship covers lodging for the full 22 days of the duration of the entire workshop, a modest stipend, one-way fare reimbursement, and workshop manuscripts and reading materials.

The applicant must submit original manuscripts consisting of at least three to five short (3-5) stories, or three to five (3-5) essays/creative non-fiction, or two (2) one-act plays, or seven to ten (7-10) poems. Stories, poems, plays, and essays in English are preferred. Only unpublished manuscripts are accepted. Works which have previously won in literary contests will not be accepted.

Other requirements include an application letter addressed to Workshop Director Dr. Edith Tiempo; a diskette or CD containing the various submitted literary works encoded in Microsoft Word; a recommendation letter from a renowned writer or literature teacher; two 2x2 pictures; and a brief biodata or résumé.

These must be sent before the 31 March 2007 deadline to Dr. Edith Lopez Tiempo, National Writers Workshop Director, c/o College Assurance Plan, 2nd Floor, CAP Building, Rizal Boulevard, 6200 Dumaguete City, Negros Oriental, Philippines.

Accepted fellows are usually notified by postal mail, or email, or by phone call, although the announcement is usually published by major Philippine dailies.

Interested parties may also apply for sit-in or auditing privileges.

The National Writers Workshop was established by Edith and Edilberto Tiempo in 1962, making it the longest-running creative writing workshop in Asia. The 2007 edition is sponsored by the National Commission for Culture and the Arts, Silliman University, and College Assurance Plan, in coordination with the Creative Writing Foundation Inc. and the Dumaguete Literary Arts Service Group, Inc. Donors to the fellowship program include Senators Edgardo J. Angara and Mar Roxas as well as former NCCA Chairman Jaime Laya and Ms. Erlinda Panlilio.

CALENDAR GIRLS

2007-02-15T19:42:00.000+08:00

What a surprise!

My two bestfriends, Carlyle Rianne Torres and Katrina May Cudal, were featured on the 2007 calendar of the Department of Tourism Region 10.

Too bad, Kitty told me there were only six copies given to Bukidnon, so that means I cannot get my own copy.

This picture were taken during last year's Kaamulan Festival when they were the emcees. I heard they will once again emcee this year's Festival.

GIFT FROM DEAN ALFAR

2007-01-08T09:28:00.000+08:00

I still can't believe it but Dean Francis Alfar (the man behind Salamanca and the Siglo graphic fiction anthology series, and winner of nine Palancas) gave me a free copy of the 2nd volume of his Philippine Speculative Fiction!

Right now, I have all copies of the Philippine Speculative Fiction series signed by Alfar!

LITCRITTERS DUMAGUETE

2007-01-08T08:19:00.000+08:00

Last semester, I received a text message from Sir Ian asking me if Im willing to join LitCritters Dumaguete, a branch of Dean Francis Alfar's creative writing/reading group in Manila which Sir Ian will be moderating here in Dumaguete. Without hesitation, I replied with a big 'YES.'

Sir Ian said that he could only accommodate six students, so the LitCritters Dumaguete includes me, Michelle Eve de Guzman, Robert Jed Malayang, Lyde Villanueva, Marianne Tapales, and Anthony Odtohan, which according to Sir, "all of whom show the greatest potential in terms of creative writing right now in Silliman University."

The name LitCritters is a reworking of the term "literary criticism" to denote "those who take part in the practice." It was first conceived by the novelist and speculative fiction advocate Dean Francis Alfar in Manila in 2005 to help his circle of closet writer/friends appreciate and develop the craft of fiction writing. LitCritters Manila remains to this day an exclusive group of six that includes Dean, Andrew Drilon, Vincent Michael Simbulan, Nikki Go-Alfar, Kate Osias, and Alex Osias.

The mechanics for LitCritters is simple. We meet once a week.

Everyone is expected to read. Writing, after all, begins with reading: you cannot be a serious writer if you do not do the reading required for your artistic education. Every week, we will read four stories which are emailed early in the week by Sir Ian. LitCritters Manila mostly tackles speculative fiction. Due to the nature of the members of the LitCritters Dumaguete group, however, we will be infusing our reading with selections from the classics, as well as genres that include realism, etc. The purpose of having different sorts of stories is to see the strengths of each genre, including the "genre" of realism. Sometimes, we will deliberately choose poorly written stories—this is to deny the "praise the story" mentality that tends to crawl in most workshops. We will aim to elevate the ability to critique.

There is a brief lecture (between 30 to 45 minutes) on some aspect of craftwork or storytelling or literary interpretation.

Each person in the group is expected to critique the text by turns, based on discourse elements and craftwork. The main purpose is to learn from the stories how to write better. We in LitCritters are expected to go beyond simple "critiquing" such as: "I like it," or "The story is nice."

Every three weeks, we are expected to write original stories (we call these the LitCritter Originals) for the group, not to exceed 5,000 words, nor to go below 1,500 words—unless otherwise specified. The goal is to improve the story, and to revise it for national publication (in Philippines Free Press, Philippine Graphic, Story Philippines, or in any of the anthologies that are regularly published), for national workshops (Dumaguete or Baguio or Iligan), for national awards (the Palanca Awards, the NVM Gonzalez Awards, the Neil Gaiman Graphic Awards, the Salanga Writers Prize, and others), and eventually for international publication.

Last Saturday, we had our first meeting at Chantily and we tackled three short stories by William Faulkner (A Rose for Emily), Jorge Luis Borges (The Book of Sand), and Socorro Villanueva (We Won't Cry Over This).

Our first challenge is to write a children story by February 3. The story should use this painting as inspiration and we will then submit our stories to the 2007 Romeo Forbes Storywriting Competition.

To those who read this, please help me think of a story based on the painting above.

ENDING THE YEAR

2007-01-03T17:48:00.000+08:00

Because the weather was icy cold at night...

Because there were beers to drink everyday...

Because everyone had the energy to go out until 2am for a week straight...

Because everyday was a get-together and party day...

Because Kitty picked my name for our exchange gifts party for the second time...

Because Prime taught me how to drive motorcycle...

...This was the most stressfull, most tiring, most weight-gaining, and most fun and most memorable holidays I had so far!

(1/1/07 First photo taken for 2007)

Another year to kickass with you guys!

SALAMANCA AND OTHER MATTERS ON PHILIPPINE LITERATURE

2006-12-14T16:32:00.000+08:00

It is easy to brand fantasy stories as childish. There comes a time in our lives when our preference for literature changes from one type to another, and many of us would detach ourselves from fantasy readings in exchange for realistic stories as we ‘grow’ older.

For a long time, fantasy stories about magic and supernatural phenomena had ceased out of my mind; and I had regarded houses made of candies, fire-breathing dragons, man-eating giants and talking animals as childish images once used by my mother to snare me into slumber on lazy afternoons. When I realized I was already too ‘old’ for these, I shifted my choices to stories that portrayed real people and depicted real lives. In short, I began reading about what I believed to be ‘serious’ literature that tackled serious and realistic situations.

A conclusion could be drawn that literatures about fantasy and magic are touted as childish, not serious and easily fit for children categories; while those about social-realism are the ‘real’ literature whose preference associates ones maturity, growth of knowledge and development of literacy. So to claim matured is to let go of childhood imaginations, and to transmute to realistic ideas what everyone has accepted. It also means letting go of childhood illusions for the fantastic, in exchange for realisms that claim to mirror our own lives.

But questioning the value of speculative fiction is not the only pressing issue that seems to affect the condition of Philippine speculative fiction or the Philippine Literature in general. There is also a question of value to the overall readership to Filipino novels.

It is easy to believe that Filipinos these days do not read novels written by Filipinos. I am even among them. I learned to appreciate and enjoy reading short stories and poetry by Filipino writers only in college. My first attempt to proceed to reading novels brought me to Alfred Yuson’s Palanca grand prize-winning novel in 1987, The Great Philippine Jungle Energy Café. But to my dismay, I barely finished reading half the book, considering it too poetic for my comprehension.

This year’s fellow of the Dumaguete National Writers Workshop, Dominique Cimafranca, once shared his sentiment on this matter. He said that Philippine novels don’t have the preference for readership by the Filipinos, because they lack the element of entertainment, which is a very important ingredient for any novel. He said that Filipino writers aim more on writing to earn praises from literary critics rather than on writing to entertain general readers. This could be one of the explanations why the only Philippine novel that most young Filipinos know are Rizal’s Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo.

So if these are the evident observations that seem to concern Filipino novels, then it is easy to say that Dean Francis Alfar’s Salamanca is a triumph of Philippine Literature. Not only did Alfar take the Philippine literary scene by storm for giving back the life of speculative fiction to mainstream Filipino readers, but he also succeeded in igniting the interest of Filipinos to appreciate Filipino novels (his debut novel sold like hotcakes in bookstores) without compromising critic’s praises (he won last year’s grand prize for novel in the Palanca).
Salamanca is a tall tale of Gaudencio Rivera, a perverse prodigious writer, and Jacinta Cordova, a native Palaweña whose ethereal beauty could transform house into glass.

The whirlwind that brought the story’s characters together did not only bring them flying in the air, but it also served as the objective correlative that characterized the general theme and the characters of the story.

Consequently, Salamanca is also a whirlwind story that spans decades: from Gaudencio’s abandonment of Jacinta at the eleventh day of their sexless marriage in preference of Cesar Abalo’s company, to Jacinta’s acceptance of Gaudencio’s offer to beget him a child in exchange of her freedom after 18 years of being away from each other. From the rebirth of Carlito Abalos to Carlos Abalos after Jacinta’s prophesy of the boy’s death in water, to the death of her own sons (the first one a stillborn that she wasn’t aware of and the second to a pedestrian accident); from the cruelty of a man to his dog by slicing off his leg and eventually finding a new homage to a Japanese who had hidden since the war, to the great fire of Tagbaoran that roasted the American missioner and teacher, Mrs. Helen Brown.

Throughout the story, we also meet twisted characters whose absurd idiosyncrasies brought humor and depth to the novel. Major characters worth noting are: Gaudencio Rivera whose penchant for words brought him not only to places where he became celebrated but also admirers both male and female; Jacinta Condova whose beauty triggered the town people to stop bearing child for fear that what they would bear could become monster until her own luminescence eventually waned brought by the fiasco of her own marriage; Cesar Abalos whose first encounter with Jacinta caused him an instant flood of hormones and later on satisfying it by thrusting it in mid-air with Mrs. Brown, until eventually, ending up to live with Gaudencio in Manila; Mrs. Helen Brown whose settlement in Tagbaoran caused her to become an albino and whose hatred for Jacinta had remained until her own tragic death; Shiro, the three-legged mongrel, whose longing for its Japanese master after being lifted in the air by the whirlwind caused it to turn human to convince Mrs. Brown to bring it back to its home; Bau Long Huynh, the Vietnamese who found the shore of Tagbaoran and whose only means of communication with the town people is through drawing on the sand, and who had remained devoted to Jacinta for the longest time. These characters, among others, have become part of the roster of memorable characters in Philippine Literature.

These characters compare to Doña Agueda, Don Badoy, and Amanda by Nick Joaquin and Dr. Lazaro by Gregorio Brillantes.

Alfar succeeded in creating a familiar setting that never fails to bring us to new places and give us new experiences. Tagbaoran, the fictitious barrio somewhere in Palawan, can remind us of our own hometown whose nooks are as familiar as the imprints on our palms. This sense of familiarity on Tagbaoran can be attributed to the fact that Alfar himself grew up in Palawan, which made Tagbaoran as concrete and as real as our own memory of our own town.

Fictionist Timothy Montes wrote on his essay, “A Sense of Place”, that what influences writers in creating a setting are the images of their hometown—how they carry it with them. Montes wrote: “It is there inside my head, a town within a bubble, gilded by my imagination…. My idea of Philippine literature has also assumed the probinsyano’s vision of walking along familiar streets and meeting familiar faces…. The sense of place is such a given in fiction that it is overlooked as an active element in its creation. So much emphasis is given to, say, character or plot, that setting (which is not equivalent to what I mean by sense of place) is reduced to a decorative, cosmetic role. But writers know that the perception of the blueness of the water in an aquarium is necessary before the orange scales of a goldfish will appear in their imagination.”

Another setting worth probing is the city of Manila, the place of origin of Gaudencio and where the other half of the story is set. But to further discuss it, it is better to use binary opposition—comparing Tagbaoran with Manila—for better appreciation: That while Tagbaoran is the “secluded town on the island province of Palawan,” Manila is the “Pearl of the Orient.” That while Tagbaoran still has “carabao-drawn cart,” Manila is “filled with vessels of all sizes.” That while Tagbaoran’s serenity is untainted, Manila is recovering from the horror brought by foreign interventions. That while people in Tagbaoran seem to know each other, people in Manila seem not to know each other’s names even if they live on the same house and belong to the same family.

Alfar created the setting of Tagbaoran, the representation of his childhood town, and Manila, the representation of his present residence.

Salamanca has a well-conceived plot whose images are so visual that it would remain in your mind. Everything is unpredictable but its pacing is written in such a way that there is no room for the readers to assume or predict what will happen next; you would simply turn from one page to another, as if compelled to read the book in one sitting. It makes you marvel its use of words because you get entertained at the same time. Magic simply happens in Salamanca like it is part of life and nature. You accept it with enough sensibility and satisfaction. You don’t have to seek for explanations on why it happened because it simply does.

A story close to our hearts, Salamanca has one of the best endings in Philippine literature that when you finish reading the novel you would still find yourself, although satisfied, still wanting more. It is a story about love, misadventures, family, sacrifices, devotion, and passion—all these thrown into a whirlwind that explains why life is so magical. A salamanca.

ON ZSAZSA ZATURNNAH

2006-12-07T18:00:00.000+08:00

I was at Copyer last week when I noticed a stack of what seemed to be photocopies of a comic magazine. Upon a closer look, I found out that it was copies of Carlo Vergara's award-winning graphic novel (National Book Awards from the Manila Critic's Circle in 2003), ZsaZsa Zaturnnah. Last semester, I got myself a photocopy of Gerry Alanguilan's Wasted for my Philippine Literature class, although I already read the komik way before that because my brother have his own original copy, which is now rare to find in newspaper and magazine stands.

In my Lit class, we were required to write a review of Wasted and I already posted my review here and the author had already linked my review to his own blog, but I haven't submitted yet my paper to Sir Ian along with the book review of Dean Alfar's Salamanca. Until now I still have an INCOMPLETE grade in Literature.

ZsaZsa Zaturnnah was supposed to be on the top-list of my soon-to-buy graphic fictions along with Siglo:Passion, but when I found the photocopies of Zaturnnah at the Copyer, I didn't think twice to ask the manong who manned the xerox machine to get me a copy (I know the original book is quite expensive).

I already suspected that this heap of photocopies were from Sir Ian's Philippine LIterature class for this semester, so i texted him.

"Sir, I just found photocopies of ZsaZsa Zaturnnah at the Copyer. I got myself a copy." I remember that I once asked him if I could borrow his copy of Alanguilan's another komik book, Elmer, which fortunately he lend me and I photocopied it.

"Haha... Actually we're using it for my new Lit class," Sir Ian replied.

"Haha so your students now need to write three reviews," I texted back.

"Nope, I'll just have them compare Wasted with Zaturnnah," was his reply.

Now I'm missing something in his class, which had become my favorite subject and what I considered to be the only subject last semester that was worth my tuition. The other night, I texted again Sir Ian, asking him if I could sit-in in his Philippine Literature class and I received a "Sure!" response.

Anyway, ZsaZsa Zaturnnah is now adapted in the silver screen under Regal Film and was directed by Joel Lamangan, and was among of this year's entry to the Metro Manila Film Festival.

I'm glad to know about this adaptation and it made me wish that they should have pushed through also with the film adaptation of Wasted. And the same wish I have on Dean Alfar's Palanca-winning one-act play Short Time (which was supposed to be played by Piolo Pascual and Richard Gomez who later on backed out).

But for now, I'm excited to see ZsaZsa Zaturnnah in the big screen and I wish there's more film adaptations to come on some of our great literary products (escpecially Salamanca!).

Here's the video on the making of the movie:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iP7EtAe4NZ4

URBANDUB

2006-12-04T08:53:00.000+08:00

“Hoy buang!” shouted Gabby Alipe (vocalist/guitarist), when asked to describe a typical rehearsal for the Cebu-based rock band, Urbandub.

“We argue a lot,” chimed Lalay Lim (bassist). “But usually band practice is flowing. The hardest part is to finish the song. The start is usually okay eh.”

Impish grin aside, Gabby added, “Yeah, there are times when we have songwriting sessions that end on just one day. Meron ding times when we don’t know what to put in. It depends on the song.”

And he has to know. After all, Gabby is the main songwriter in the band. “I start with the basic arrangement sa studio. Then, they listen to what I did, and yun, they add na or edit it. It’s a collaborative band effort to make it a whole,” he said.

Their third album “Embrace”, released last year, Gabby said, “It’s more moody; more personal. We’d like to think na deeper ang content, lyric-wise and message-wise.”

Other members of the band are John “Janjan” Mendoza (drummer) and John Dinopol (lead guitarist).

According to their website, www.urban-dub.tk, Urbandub has proven that there is hope for the struggling artist. “Forced to be independent due to the lack of support coming from major record companies, Urbandub released their debut album called “Birth”. Unique, timely and yet experimental, it was something that entertainment scenes around the Philippines needed: a kick start into the future of original music.”
Their second album “Influence” held the track “Soul Searching” which later won the Best Song of the Year Award in the 2003 NU107 Rock Awards. The album later won the Album of the Year Award in the 2004 NU107 Rock Awards.
“How has it changed from the time when we had to pay for our fares to Manila, and stayed in one hotel room to save on bills? Well, we still eat in the same carinderia. We’d like to think that nothing has changed,” said Gabby.

He added, “I think that’s the main reason why we never wanted to be based in Manila. Whenever we have a long break there, we make it a point to come back to Cebu para grounded ba. Our family and our real friends are there.”

So is there always pressure?

“Every time naman,” said Lalay.

“We’ve been a band for six years; we’ve been playing for six years, and we still get nervous. Every time we play kasi we always want to play the best that we can. Especially in Manila. For us, we’re not just playing as Urbandub eh. We’re carrying the scene back home in Cebu,” Gabby said.

“Before it was always Manila, Manila, Manila. At least now there are bands making a name for themselves outside Manila, like from Mindoro or Cebu and hopefully soon from Dumaguete,” he shared.

Lalay said, “But there is no discrimination against Bisayan bands, at least not for us.”

“We’re very lucky and blessed that when we got to Manila, the bands there were very accepting, really showing their support by going to the bars we played in. Almost all of the bands that we looked up to were there, and they had only nice comments to say to us,” shared Gabby. “I still get starstruck when we actually get to play or hang out with them.”

Last Q&A
Have you always wanted to be musicians?
Lalay: It started out as a hobby when I was 14.
John: I always wanted to make music.

What do you do on your free time?
Lalay: Sleep.
Gabby: In manila, we just stay home and watch TV. We’re always tired eh so we usually spend the day sleeping.

Biggest realization?
Gabby: That we can actually play music and earn a living. Looking back now, we always surprised. It’s a job that’s fun.

Descriptions from other bandmates.
Lalay- party girl.
Gabby- beer.
John- cigarettes
John John- mysterious drummer

Best thing about being in a band?
Gabby: Travel. We like nature trips like Boracay and Baguio.

Advice to Dumaguete bands?
Gabby: Just keep playing music. Just be original. Never box yourself into one genre. Try expanding your musical tastes.

What to expect?
John: Hopefully more good music.
Gabby: For sure, even if Urbandub will be long gone already, all four of us will still be playing. But for our immediate plans, we go back to the studio and write new material.

First thing that comes to mind when we say—
Dumaguete? Relaxed.
Silliman? [Gabby:] That’s where my sister goes to school.
Anything else? Hayahay pizza rules.

(Written by Michelle de Guzman with interview by Rodrigo Bolivar II and Luz)

Look Who's Back...

2006-11-20T08:42:00.000+08:00

Poet and my first English teacher in college (and instantly became my favorite), Sir Nikko Angelo Vitug, is now back blogging at Pebbles and Sex.

I miss our talks at Steds, Sir.

NOT-MUCH-OF-A-REVIEW ON WASTED

2006-10-11T19:17:00.000+08:00

My earliest memories on komiks are those serialized in Liwayway and Bisaya magazines that we used to subscribe when I was a kid. It seemed like it had become a weekly ritual in my family to read the komiks in its full-colored pages from those magazines that was delivered at our house every Wednesday. We also had a collection of komik books written in Tagalog, whose stories range from horror to drama and fantasy to comedy. I also remember those komik books whose characters were based on famous celebrities. I wish I could still remember the titles of those komiks, which at one point in my life I became an avid fan. But I guess this is the sad thing about komiks—its value was only regarded for entertainment and escapist purposes, and no one really took it seriously—that once we have outgrown it, it would eventually ceased out of our mind as our preference for reading material. And I am guilty on this.
Editors of the National Book Awards-winning komik anthologies Siglo: Freedom and Siglo: Passion, Dean Francis Alfar and Vin Simbulan wrote: “There are those of us who grew up with comics imported from the U.S. and were influenced by their superhero dominated selection. Others grew up with local titles of the Wakasan and Funny Komiks mold which were the staple of the time. Because of the dominance of these types of comics, the general public formed a stereotype that comics are for children: escapist fiction with little or no literary value. The idea of comics as a serious medium for telling stories with social relevance has been met with skepticism in the past. Creators have had to struggle to overcome the popular perception that comic books could not be taken seriously.”
My purchased of Siglo: Freedom had brought my interest back on this now called “graphic novel or literature” or “sequential literature.” When I received the book through mail, my roommate commented that it’s a ‘weird’ kind for comics. The very next day, he bought X-Men comic books and showed it to me, as if to tell me that this is what real comics should looked like.
When I got a hand on Gerry Alanguilan’s Wasted, it was then that I realized how much had changed in the local komiks industry, compared to those that I used to read when I was still a kid. Wasted has redefined the comics genre that Filipinos are used to—those kinds that settled on fantasy stories and shallow narratives. Alanguilan, along with many contemporary komik artists today, showed that the komiks industry in the Philippines has ripened to its maturity, and that can be observed through matured storytelling.
Perhaps what may seem evident on Alanguilan works is its penchant for violence. Not only in Wasted, but the story he contributed for Siglo: Freedom can also be characterized as such, which tells about a violent epiphany of a man out to free himself from the sins of the past that haunted him. But when I read Alanguilan’s latest comic book called Elmer, I got a new picture of his theme—which is hostility and anger. In the case of Wasted, it is the character’s tendency for hostility that was put to the extreme.
Indeed, Wasted goes beyond pure violence. It is about human’s hostility brought about by the strong emotions of hatred, disgust, confusion, loss, anger, and most especially, love.
Anger, as psychologists would put it, is a strong emotion that is accompanied by arousal of the nervous system and it produces effects throughout the body. It eats away at your cardiovascular system, your gut and hijacks nervous system, often obliterating the capacity for clear thinking. And it may even grow in intensity. Such intensity is very well illustrated on the pages of Wasted. The comic book has a disclaimer that read: Not suggested for normal readers. And indeed, Wasted is not for those who were used on reading comics about characters in tight suits with superpowers and saved the world before bedtime.
When Wasted came out, it was raved with positive reviews locally and internationally, which is ironic for a comic whose panels are full of violence. Could this mean that although violence is the major theme of Wasted, readers can still empathize with the character?
Traditionally, the function of komiks, as Soledad Reyes wrote, “is for entertainment fare that provides the readers temporary relief from the unbearable monotony oppressiveness of life.” But Wasted is totally an exception to this. Who would be entertained to a kind of komiks where a preacher is shot on the head, where a man sitting in a jeepney is strangled with bare hand, or where gays are mercilessly shot to death? If ever scenes in Wasted were real, it would be gorier than those from Saw and Hostel movies.
Reyes is right when she said the komiks serve to release deeply suppressed emotions—such as anger, hostility, and hatred. In fact, Wasted is all about these three emotions.
Human has an innate instinct to kill. When you were a kid, you took pleasure killing ants and small insects, and you bit those fingers that provoked you. As you grow older, you found it amusing to stuff firecracker inside the mouth of a frog and enjoyed the display of guts bursting all over, and you also learned to hit your classmate straight on his nose until blood comes out.
But as you mature, you have enough sensibility to control yourself from exploding you emotions. But the urge or desire to kill is still there—only this time you learn to confine it just inside you.
Don’t you want to kill the boyfriend of the girl that you like, you dorm manager, your Philosophy teacher, or your feeling-so-smart classmate who keeps on answering in the class simply because you are annoyed? Don’t you want to kill that guy who inserted in the line even though he knows that there are still a lot of people lining behind him, or that lady in the school cashier where you pay your tuition because she’s working too slow? And while writing this, don’t you want to throw a baseball bat to the computer, partly because the computer keeps on hanging every second, and also partly because you don’t know anymore what to write?
Almost everyday we are confronted with situations that trigger our superego. Sometimes you liked so much to kill yourself “just like every lovers do… [because] this world is never meant for one as beautiful as you,” or as that song goes that you keep on listening whenever you convince yourself that you’re an artist. But later on you want to kill yourself more when it finally sinks into you that you can never become one.
Sometimes we could become the most protagonist person in this world, much better than those lead actors we see in our favorite soap operas. But sometimes we could also become the most antagonist person to ourselves, much worse than Jigsaw.
But somehow, and fortunately, all these dark thoughts were safely kept in our mind until we learned to dissipate it.
When Reyes mentioned about komiks and how it serve to release our deeply suppressed emotions, we could make Eric as our personal hero for fulfilling our urge to express our innate violence that we can never release—without inflicting damage to society.
Wasted author Gerry Alanguilan is a licensed architect who chooses to write and draw comic books for a living. Perhaps his best creation is Wasted, which has received acclaim from such renowned comics writers as Warren Ellis and Steven Grant. His other personal comics project include Timawa, Crest Hut Butt Shop, Dead Heart, Elmer, and Komikero, a portfolio of his sketches, illustrations and comics. He contributed inks for international titles like X-Men, Fantastic Four, Wolverine, X-Force, Darkness, Stone, and High Roads, and has done the inking of Superman: Birthright for DC Comics.
To fully understand Wasted, it is better to consider the story of how it came about. Alanguilan was at the verge of devastating breakup with his girlfriend and his test script for DC comics was rejected. Alanguilan was at the turbulent period of his life, which made him conceived Wasted.
The intensity of Alanguilan’s emotion can be felt on every pages of the comic book: its drawings are roughly drawn and its inking are darkly done. The best thing about the artistry of Wasted is that the graphics can stand on its own. Meaning, even without words you can still get the story of the komiks and every panel is full of fierce emotions that you could actually feel blazing. The eyes of the characters has enough details on it that you can really see all the dark intentions buried inside—the despairs, grieves and insanities.
The effectiveness of Wasted lies on the fearless outpour of raging emotions that is unstoppable and uncontrollable.
Alanguilan put himself in the character of Eric who loses his girlfriend because of another guy. Added to that mess is the death of his father and the death of his friend. All these incidents lead Eric to an extreme confusion, rampaged roamed around the city, holding in hostage and killing all those that came on his way.
In Wasted, we can see real characters because the emotions are too close in our hearts. When we want violence, Wasted provide us with a big bang that is so real we could hear our hearts pumping. When we want anger, Wasted could provide us with the kind of anger that we always wanted, the kind that is unbarred with sensibility. And when we want love, Wasted could also provide us with profound love that at the end of the story we could realize that we could also do the same thing if ever confronted on the same situation. Furthermore, Wasted is the perfect illustration of how powerful love could become.
Love is the most deceiving and misunderstood emotion of all. It cannot be described because it can only be expressed. It goes beyond words and passion and it can be both intimate and dangerous.
In appreciating Wasted, you do not need to dig dipper for social relevance. As what National Artist for Literature Jose Garcia Villa once said, that literature should be appreciated as it is—as art. And although Wasted is easily labeled as a komiks of violence and brutality, art is something every evident in all its pages.

Letter From A Poet

2006-10-04T14:33:00.000+08:00

tI appreciate it that you're asking me these questions. These just go to show that you're serious about taking writing seriously - since you are also probing into your experience, and trying tofind a way to deal with the emotions, thoughts, and the many other influences that come your way. Probing into your experience is very important - this should help you discover more of yourself. When you know yourself better, you'll understand more what you want to do, and say, and write - and what you want, and who you are, will inevitably be reflected in your creative works.

Let me be honest with you - writing has always been a difficult process for me. Some writers already have their concept (this can mean insight, technique, style, all at the same time, I think) very clear to them when they start writing. They know what they want to communicate, and how to do it - and so they write with great deliberateness and awareness. It is not difficult for them to revise the works, because they know what they want to achieve. I am a different writer. I just write about something I am interested in and continue writing until what I really want to communicate becomes clear to me.

I've always wondered why I write like this. I think the reason for this is that I don't really acknowledge my thoughts and feelings. I usually repress these in order to please other people, so that they would accept me. Now that I'm trying to acknowledge my self more, the writing comes easier (at least, I do not censor myself as much as I did before). But the difficulty is still there, as much as I am having difficulties honoring my own voice.

Honoring my own voice is still difficult, because it is easier to look around and say, "Whoa, this writer's so good! This is the kind of writer I want to be!" I urge you to avoid comparing yourself with other writers. I know that learning technique and style from others is good, but repressing your own creative energies in order to be pleasing to others, or to create imitations of other's works. One things I'd like you to remember is that, in the final analysis, it is you who will write what you want, and no one has the right to trample on what you want to write and say. You won't write like anyone else, and that you should cherish thesingularity of your own voice.

Now, let me tell you about literary awards - these are good, because they provide a venue for writers to honor the works of fellow writers, and to motivate themselves to write the best way they can. But, remember that awards are not the end all, be all of writing. I honestly used to think like this, and I came to hate awards because I wasn't winning them. I was beginning to hate my own writing, and this had to stop because I was killing myself with this thought. I began to appreciate myself, and my writing, and stopped listening to awards. However, when a friend told me that it was a venue to help one's self work on how hecan better his own writing, I came to liking the idea of awards again, and of joining another literary competition. But just remember that you are not writing for the awards - you are writing for yourself, and the people who care to read what you write.

Sir Nikko

Mapping the Literary Culture of Silliman

2006-10-04T14:27:00.000+08:00

Mention Dumaguete to a non-Dumagueteño and the first thing that would come into one’s mind is Silliman University. Mention Silliman University to a non-Sillimanian and the first thing that would come into one’s mind is nursing. This impression of Silliman as a center of excellence in Nursing education may seem fair, considering in today’s time when Nursing is the course favored by the majority, and people would seek for a fine school that caters to this course of global demand. But Silliman University and Nursing was not the reputation this institution once holds and was famous for.
For the longest time (which may still be true today), Dumaguete City is easily touted as the creative writing capital of the Philippines, with Silliman University as having the distinction of producing the best writers in our country today.
Writers walked to and fro through this acacia shaded campus, musing their literary imaginations and threading thoughts with pen and paper. It is perhaps the sunrise on the boulevard, the cricket’s chirps on late the afternoon, the moon looming over Silliman Church, the laid-back ambiance, the ice-cold beer, or perhaps it’s simply in the air. Writing in Silliman is a way of life – it is a pulsing passion.
The names Lakambini Sitoy, Leoncio Deriada, Marjorie Evasco, Anthony Tan, Jaime An Lim, Timothy Montes, Ricaredo Demetillo, Merlie Alunan, Cesar Ruiz Aquino, and of course the Tiempos (Edilberto, Edith and their daughter Rowena Tiempo-Torrevillas) would certainly ring a bell in your ears when you know your Philippine Literature. They were the frontlines of our literary history and it would be impossible to study Philippine Literature without stumbling on these names.
Even at the early history of Silliman University, prominent writers were already going in and out of its classrooms. Because of the student-writers need for an avenue to publish their literary works, Silliman University gave birth to the Sands & Coral in 1948, which is considered as one of the country’s oldest literary journal.
. The Sillimanian (now the Weekly Sillimanian), which used to be 30-40 pages, was also publishing literary works and sponsored a literary contest. In 1953, the Silliman Writers Guild was established to gather students who share the same passion in writing. In 1976, Graciano Arinday Jr. sponsored a literary contest with prizes amounting from P50 to P300.
Students’ works would see the light of publication in national papers such as Philippines Free Press and Philippines Graphics (where National Artist for Literature Nick Joaquin was the literary editor), the Comment (also edited by another National Artist for Literature F. Sionil Jose), Women’s Weekly, and among others. The writing culture in Silliman was so vibrant that it paved way to the establishment of the Creative Writing Program of the Department of the English and Literature.
But what placed Silliman University in the map of the Philippine literary scene is the Silliman Writers Workshop, which is the first writing workshop in Asia. Multi-awarded writer and former English teacher of Silliman University, Alfred “Krip” Yuson, once said: “Dumaguete has become nearly synonymous with Silliman University, first, and what is still sometimes called the Silliman Writers Workshop, second.”
To give one a picture on how vibrant the writing culture was in Silliman, imagine stepping inside the Department of English and Literature and seeing formidable teachers such as David Quemada, Dolores and Rodrigo Feria, Leoncio Deriada, Edith and Edilberto Tiempo, Albert Faurot. Later on, one gets to see Anthony Tan, Jaime An Lim, Cesar Ruiz Aquino, Timothy Montes and Merlie Alunan.
Get a thick copy of The Sillimanian and one can read short stories, poems, essays and short plays by campus writers such as Aida Rivera-Ford, Reuben Canoy, Cesar Amigo, Claro Ceniza, Lugum Uka, James Matheson, Leticia Dizon, Kenneth Woods, Maria Luisa Centena, Graciano Arinday Jr, Jose Montebon Sr., and Carminia Anonuevo Yaptenco, Honorio Ridad, Eugenio Alexis Baban, and Eliseo Banas. There are also news clips with headlines that read: “Mrs. Tiempo Wins FP Story Contest,” or “Tiempo’s novel is fourth bestseller”, or “Deriada Wins Two Palancas,” and on that same year another would read, “Deriada Wins Two Awards on Focus.”
Visit the nearest newsstand and buy a copy of national periodicals and only to find out the literary works of Erlendo Constantino, Raymond Llorca, Williamor Marquez, Rhoda Galima, Myrna Pena Reyes, Cesar Ruiz Aquino (who was among the “Terrible Children of the 1960s” in Philippine Literature history), Edgar Grino, Nancy Teves.
Campus beauties also had a passion with the pen such as 1964 Miss Silliman Elsa Victoria Martinez (now Coscoluella) who is now inducted to the Palanca Hall of Fame. Dumaguete City’s own muse Rowena Tiempo-Torrevillas, one of the country’s best writers is now based in Iowa, USA teaching literature and creative writing. Campus head-turner Christine Godinez Ortega, now based in Iligan City, is also a name to consider in our literary scene.
It was on these decades that Silliman considered having the “Golden Age” in creative writing.
But then, a lot of sentiments were shared over the years about the waning of this creative writing culture in Silliman. One factor cited by many is that many of Silliman’s English and Literature teachers had already left the university in search of a greener pasture in other schools around the country. The Department of English and Literature only have Cesar Ruiz Aquino and Ian Rosales Casocot left in the faculty whose literary achievements merit Silliman’s reputation in the Philippine literary circle.
Anne Marie Eligio shared her experience when she came to Silliman in 1993 to study Creative Writing:
There weren’t enough professors to teach me: the Tiempos had retired, Cesar Aquino had gone back to Manila, and the rest, to name a few – Merlie Alunan-Wenceslao, Jaime An Lim, Anthony Tan – had long left. They left, I would suppose, to seek for greener (read: financially fulfilling) pastures. I think the English Department panicked when I came in. I was the first one to enroll for a Creative Writing degree again after Timothy Montes defended his masters’ thesis. I never knew then that the program was in shambles, and all those graduating hopefuls – Creative Writing majors who are one step away from having an M.A. degree (if only they’d finish their theses) – were turning helpless. For lack of professors to teach, the program was dead.
It would explain the kind of panic which struck the department. Who would teach this virtually unknown newcomer? They would have to take a close look again at the subjects I would have to enroll in. I could only look back at it now: I might have been the small spark which made the program alive again.
But this sentiment may still hold today as the number of students currently enrolled in the Creative Writing Program has drastically dropped to two. Maybe because students preference for a college course these days are those that would give their future a certain security. It’s hard now to cite campus writers compared to student nurses who seem to be everywhere. Majority of students in Silliman now do not anymore hold pens and papers but stethoscopes and PH bags. And the result on this was perfectly described by Silliman’s English teacher Misael Ondong, who said, “Silliman’s creative writing culture is in a drought right now because the best student writers in campus are now in the College of Nursing – and they are busy students to bother writing and do [poetry] reading.” Ondong further explained that the students right now only write when they are required to do so in their classes, which according to Ondong, was one reason why this year’s edition of Sands & Coral had delayed its publication because of the lack of student contributors.
This waste of talent could be a fitting example of Fr. Miguel Bernad’s (a Jesuit priest and columnist) contention on his essay Philippine Literature: Perpetually Inchoate where he said that, “To write well, one must have leisure. Leisure to read, leisure to think, to talk things over, to listen oneself in and out of a position, to compose and rewrite and polish, to travel, to observe, to listen, to let the sounds and voices sink into one’s consciousness until they are ready to come out again having ‘suffered a sea-change. ’”
It could explain why Silliman’s creative writing culture seems to hibernate these days. It could be because the best student writers now are nursing students and that they cannot find the leisure to write. Passion in writing may still be there, but a passion is nothing if one has no time to practice it. This could also be the explanation why the last time a Sillimanian qualifies on the Dumaguete National Writers’ Workshop was still in 2000. The thought of it is very ironic because the Tiempos designed the Writers’ Workshop in the first place for Silliman students.
But then, award-winning writer and English teacher Ian Rosales Casocot disagrees on the idea that the “pen is dry in Dumaguete.” He said, “But is the creative writing really dead in Dumaguete? Not in the very least. Everything goes through cycles, and all great institutions have undergone a merry-go-around of fortunes in their histories.”
Truly, student writers are not only limited to those student nurses. In fact, campus writers are still around campus whose avenues for writing may not seem so visible like being published on national papers. Think of online blogs, for example. Practically most of the students now have their own web blogs and scanning from one blogs to another would give you can idea that Sillimanians are still working with their pens.
To give proof on this, sophomore mass communication student and another campus-beauty-turned-writer (for winning the Miss Silliman crown in 2004), Stacy Danika Alcantara had lately published a novel, which could only give you an idea that more can be expected from her in the future. Dr. Cesar Ruiz Aquino had recently won the National Books Awards for best personal anthology, given by the Manila Critics’ Circle, for his book Checkmeta. And Ian Rosales Casocot seem to have the hobby of collecting literary awards, the most recent is bagging first place in the Neil Gaiman’s Philippine Graphic/Fiction Awards. These people have proven that there are still many who can carry the name of Silliman to the Philippine literary scene.
Consider it good news that Silliman University President Ben S. Malayang III has come up with the proposal to establish a Creative Writing Center in the university He also offered Dr. Edith Tiempo an agreement to bring the Dumaguete National Writing Workshop back at the hand of the university. “Since the workshop started out as a Silliman Writers’ Workshop, we hope that it will soon return to Silliman,” said Malayang.
The pen in Silliman is not really dry nor does it need refilling. Maybe students these days still don’t find enough courage to pick it up from their table and put their literary talents into serious scrutiny– but then, this is not a problem at all. With enough encouragements coming from the school itself, the reputation of Silliman as the creative writing capital of the country will soon be back to its own glorified legacy.
As what Timothy Montes shared: “What I like best about the place was the sense of humanity it gave me, a sense of humility that is a by-product of a reverence for life—an attitude necessary for a serious writer…. In Dumaguete I learned that one can live life with integrity as a writer… [In Dumaguete], to be a writer was no big deal because the act of writing and the living of a rich internal life was what mattered, not the title or the adulation. If writers continue to go on pilgrimage there every summer, then it comes from a realization that it offers something to them on a deeply personal level….”

DECADES

2006-07-28T09:32:00.000+08:00

1945

In the decadence of war, you bid
mother goodbye and her tears became
your epiphany

while you
crawled on bushes and wished for
her embrace.

1986

In the decadence of uncertainty, you bid
mother goodbye and flocked with the people
on EDSA

after you learned the body of best friend Jun
drenched on his own blood
and the whole nation mourned.

2006

In the decadence of deception, you bade
mother goodbye to become among of
your kin

your words etch history and your cries
are their cries and the nation
shared your tears.

*This poem won First Place in the World Population Day 2006 celebration sponsored by the Silliman University Student Governemnt. Judges of the contest were multi-awarded writers and Palanca awardees Ian Rosales Casocot and Cesar Ruiz Aquino, and tWS editor-in-chief Michelle de Guzman. This was also published on the The Visayan Daily Star's Star Life Sunday magazine.

From Marjorie Evasco

2006-06-20T15:08:00.000+08:00

I got the best dedication from multi-awarded and one of the greatest poets in the Philippines today, Marjorie Evasco, writen on her poetry collection, Dreamweavers. This book won the National Book Award for Poetry and the Gintong Aklat Award for Poetry.

GETTING HIGH WITH KAMIKAZEE

2006-06-18T16:12:00.000+08:00

The place smelled the stench of cigarettes, chilly, cluttered, and dimly-lit. At a corner there stood five guys who seemed to swallow us whole. Yikes! Have we walked right into the devil’s lair? We didn’t know. One said something like “Upo kayo,” and we all heaved sighs of relief. “We’re safe. They don’t bite!”
There’s Jay Contreras, lead vocals and the band’s frontman who looks like a tattoo that had grown a head and a body, Jomal Linao, guitars and second vocals who had a goofy smile plastered on his face. Seated on the unmade bed were Jason “Puto” Astete, bass guitarist who looks skinny and Allan Burdeos, drums who is such an opposite of Puto. There’s Led Tuyay for guitars who was quite in a couch. Yes, we really are interviewing the rock band, Kamikazee who was responsible for the punk-rock version of Britney Spears’ “Lucky” that won an MTV Pilipinas Award 2003 for Best Music Video, was featured along with Parokya ni Edgar in the song “Ordertaker,” there’s “Chicksilog,” “Chinelas,” and of course, one of the country’s chart-topping single “Narda.”
What we thought as the end of our lives meeting these semi-crazy people we see on television turned out to be an afternoon full of madness, mockery and taunting, and tons of boisterous laughter.

Starter
Dirg: Is this your first time in Dumaguete?
Jay: Oo, first time.
Dirg: How do you find Dumaguete?
Jomal: Dumaguete… ganun ano, Dumaguete. Hehe!
Jay: Ang dali lang naming nakita eh. That’s how we find Dumaguete.
Ianne: Nakita na ninyo yung place?
Led: Di pa kami nakakalabas ng hotel eh, bawal daw kami lumabas.
Jordan: Ganun ba.

Band History
Dirg: So why do call your band Kamikazee?
Jay: Ang una naming pangalan, dapat Side A, kaya lang may Side A na sa Manila… yung kumanta ng…
Ianne: Forevermore?
Jay: Yung Heaven Knows… joke (laughs)
Ianne: Ginawa niyo na lang sana Side B (laughs)
Jay: Wala namang storya yung pangalan namin, nagsulat lang kami ng mga pangalan sa papel, tapos nagbotohan, tapos kamikazee cornflakes yung unang pangalan namin, tapos lagi naman nakakalimutan ung cornflakes so tinaggal nalang namin. Minsan nga mali pa rin ang spelling, so baka magbago pa rin ang name, baka maging ano nalang, kamik or kam.
(Laughs)
Dirg: Paano ba kayo nagsimula sa band?
Jomal: Gitara, drums…. Laughs
Ianne: Magkakaibigan ba kayo at first?
Jay: Oo.
Puto: Magkababata!
Jomal: Hindi…
Allan: Magkababata tayo hoy!
Jay: Hindi. Kasi, may audition para sa Kamikazee dati. May nakalay-out na: “Forming kamikazee band kelangan gwapo tsaka kahit walang skills,” tapos kami yung mga guapo na nasa Quezon City nun eh…. (pause) Di, loko lang.
(Laughs)
Jay: Magkakaibigan lang kami. Magkakatambay kami sa UP tapos…
Dirg: Kayong lima?
Jay: Anim kami dati. Yung isang miyembro namin tinawag na ng responsibilidad ng magulang, kelangan ituloy ang pag-aaral. Tapos ayun, bumitaw siya sa amin. Galing naman, kasi nakagraduate siya. Tapos kaming lima matigas ang ulo, tinuloy namin.
Dirg: Pero at least mas sumikat naman kayo sa kanya?
Jay: Pero mas malaki kinikita nia.
(Laughs)
Jordan: Anong year ba nagstart yung band niyo?
Jay: 1984?
Ianne: Ha????? Ang tanda niyo na.
Jay: Two years old lang kami nun. (pause) Loko lang.
Jomal: 2000 kami nagsimula.
Ianne: Saan kayo nagpe-play dati? Yung bago pa lang kayo?
Puto: Madalas kami mag-front sa Parokya dati.
Allan: Sa mga out of town gigs… sa mga bars, nakikijam kami. Tsaka sa U.P.
Jay: Si Chito [of Parokya ni Edgar] kasi , wala pa kaming banda, kaibigan na namin kasi Fine Arts din siya. Magkakatambay kami sa U.P, nagkakainuman, tapos sila [pointing to Led and Puto] may banda silang dalawa dati, tapos nagbuo lang sila ng banda nun para sa gig sa Fine Arts. Iba pa yung line-up nun, di pa ako yung kumakanta. Pero silang apat na yung instrumento. Sabi namin na baka pwede kaming kumanta kasama nung isa naming kaibigan, sabi namin, “Sige na nakakatawa kami pare, tapos sumasayaw kami.” Kinuha nila kami kahit hindi kami marunong. Tapos, si Chito naman, palaging nanonood kahit nuong una pa lang. Sabi namin, “Chit, may banda kami, nood ka naman.” Tapos nanood siya, tawa lang siya ng tawa. Tapos tinanong niya kami, “Gusto ninyong mag-front sakin?” Eh, gusto lang naming tumugtog nun, so nag-front kami, tapos yun, sinuwerte. Tinulungan kami ni Chito at ng ibang banda na kaibigan namin.
Allan: Nag fo-front kami sa Parokya kahit anong probinsya. May dala kaming sasakyan. Kami nagpapa-gas, wala kaming bayad. E, libre lang ung pagkain, tapos tugtog lang. Sobrang saya namin!
Puto:Gusto lang naming tumugtog. Yun lang, enjoy na kami. Di kami nageexpect na…
Jay: Pinapagalitan na kami ng mga magulang namin, wala naman kaming kinikita, puyat pa kami lagi, ung iba napapabayaan yung school, tapos laging lasing. Wala naman kaming nakukuha.
Puto: parang yun na yung pinaka-gimik namin.Jomal: Di naman kami nagdidisco, nagbabar. Nood lang kami ng mga tugtog tapos un nga nabigyan kami ng chance na tumugtog kaya wala na kaming ginawa kundi tumugtog.

Influences and inspirations
Jordan: So malaki talaga ang influence ng Parokya sa band inyo o… si Chito lang?
Kamikazee: Buong parokya,
Led: Kasi kaibigan eh.
Jomal: Parang mga kuya namin sila eh.
Ianne: Sino ba ang mga musical influences ninyo?
Jay: Marami.
Jomal: Kami kasi ni Allan, trip talaga namin yung mga maiingay. Tsaka yung nagfe-feed sa amin ng mga punk, yan sina Led at Puto. Si Jay naman, more on OPM.
Jay: Ako mahilig talaga ako sa OPM, maka Eraserheads talaga ako, Rivermaya at Parokya. Kasi before nung high school pa kami, yung eksena ng mga banda parang ganun din dati. Kasi pag tumingin ka sa TV, panay banda. Patok na patok yung mga banda nun, may music bureau pa sa tv na panay banda. Parang nakakatuwa na parang noon. Kahit saan ka tumingin-- sa mga commercials at kahit anong lipat mo ng program, laging may banda. Diba nakakatuwa na nabuhay ulit ang mga banda? Kahit mga bata ngayon, bata palang nagsisimula ng magbanda.
Ianne: Saan kayo kumukuha ng inspiration ninyo?
Jay: Sayo! (laughs) hindi loko lng.
Jomal: Kay Pepe na malaki yung tete.
All: Laughs
Jomal: Hindi… kaibigan namin yun si Pepe.(Laughs)

Their music
Jordan: Ano ba yung music ninyo dati?
Led: R&B (hehe)
Jomal: techno-reggae…
(Laughs)
Ianne: Before?
Jay: hindi… Dati!
(Laughs)
Led: Eto, serious na. Rock-punk.
Dirg: ahh.. parang rock na punk? Hahaha!
Led: Ganun na nga.
Ianne: Diba nag-mellow kayo?
Jay: Feeling namin pareho lang yung tugtugan naming before tsaka ngayon. Siguro mas tumanda lang kami.
Puto: Kasi yung album namin nung una may mga mellow din na kanta dun, di lang masyado na-expose.
Jay: Hindi naman kasi nabenta yung album namin. Wala namang bumili.
Allan: Kung minsan nga nagugulat yung mga magulang dun sa probinsya kapag nanood ng tugtug namin. Kasi akala nila yung mga kanta namin parang purong Narda lng, di nila alam para kaming sira-ulo.
(Laugh)
Jay: Basta kung ano yung ginagawa nmin dati ginagawa parin nmin ngayon eh.
Dirg: Sino ba nagco-compose ng songs?
Led: Dinadownload lang namin sa internet hahaha! Hindi, collective sa lahat. Bawat kanta, kami ang gumagawa.
Jay: Si Papa Bords at Si Jomal sa intruymento. Kung buo na nila, ibibigay nila sa amin at lalagyan namin ng lyrics ni Led at ni Puto.
Dirg: Tell us about Narda?
Led: Yung lyrics galing talaga siya sa parang may crush ka tapos…
Jay: Imposible talaga.
Jomal: Ginawa naming Narda para medyo poetic….
(Laughs)
Dirg: Eh yung Chiksilog?
Jay: Title nun dati ay ‘Corazon.’ Tungkol siya sa katulong na crush mo.. lyrics nun dati:
“Parang laman ng wallet ko
Ang larawan mo
Sigaw ng puso ko\pangalan mo
\Corazon, ang bango ng yong sabon Corazon..” Binago naming para dun sa Level-Up Ragnarok.

Rivalry
Dirg: Ano ba ang masasabi ninyo sa pagsikat ngayon ng mga OPM band?
Jay: Maganda hehehe
Ianne: So wala bang rivalry?
Jomal: Wala wala wla
Jordan: Kasi di ba magkakaibigan kayo dun?
Jay: Oo. Kasi parang bata lng kami.
Jomal: Respetuhan lang sa bawat band.
Jay: Mga kaibigan namin ang mga yun. Tsaka sa Manila, pag magkakasama kami, kahit nanonood ng sine, sina Gab, yung ibang miyembro ng parokya, sobrang komportable ang band sa isat isa. Kahit naghahalikan lang…
(Laughs)
Ianne: Brokebacker! Pero na-imagine ba niyo dati nung nagsa-start pa lang kayo na sisikat kayo?
Jomal: Di namin iniisip yun.
Ianne: ohh ??? sure???
Jay: Ang showbiz natin?
Jordan: Showbiz talaga…
Dirg: Ano ba ang pagkakaiba ninyo sa ibang band?
Allan: Pangit kami!
Jomal: Kami yung pioneer ng pangit rock.
(Laughs)
Jay: Ano ba ang nakakatawa dun?
(Laughs)
Jay: Joke lang, joke lng. Ano ba ang pinagkaiba nmin sa ibang banda? (thinking) Mas suplado ka (pointing to Led).
Led: Sa amin hindi naman issue yun eh. Di naming iniisip na naiiba kami.
Jomal: Di nmin talaga kinocompare yung sarili namin sa iba.
Allan: Ginagawa lang namin kung anong trip namin. ‘Di nmin ginagawa yung mga bagay na hindi namin gusto.
Jomal: Kanya-kanyang trip lang yun.
Dirg: Ano ba talaga ang trip ninyo?
Jomal: Kami! Trip namin ang isa’t-isa.
(Laughs)
Jay: Kung ano yung nakikita ninyo ‘samin sa TV, yun talaga kami.
Ianne: Kung ganun kayo kagulo onstage, ganun ba talaga kayo?
Jay: Oo.

Accomplishments
Jordan: How does it feel endorsing Rexona?
Jay: ‘Di kasi namin iniisip yun na umaangat kami ng level eh. Kumbaga yun pa rin, may mga breaks talaga na ganyan. So ini-enjoy naming.
Led: ‘Di namin iniisip na “T*** i** ano to? Endorser na tayo ng Rexona.. ang laki-laki na natin!” Hindi, ‘di talaga…
Dirg: Ano ba ang biggest accomplishment niyo so far?
Jay: Makabuo ng banda.
Led: Yung una naming plano, bago lumabas yung second album, makapaglabas lang kami ng second album…
Jomal: Kahit walang label.

Their second album
Dirg: Diba nag-Gold kayo?
Jay: Oo. Pero para sa’min naman parang walang difference dun sa unang album. Kung baka mixed parin…may punk, may metal. Dun sa second album meron paring mas-maingay kaysa first na hindi pa naririnig ng ibang tao.
Jay: Yung mga kanta sa second album, sobrang pinaghirapan namin talaga. Limang buwan na puyatan talaga.
Puto: Nagrerecord kami nun, wala pang plano, walang record company.
Led: We always strive to make the second album better than the first.
Jay: Sabi nga namin kung hindi na naman kumita yung second album, magtatrabaho na kami pero hangga’t kaya namin, magbabanda kami.
Ianne: Bakit si Eula yung model niyo?
Led: Kasi siya yung original na….
Jay: Bagets.. sobrang astig niya, sobrang hot niya.
Dirg: So crush niyo lahat si Eula?
Led: Umm, nakita niyo ba yung FHM?
Dirg: Oo
Led: Anong masasabi mo? (talking to Dirg)
Dirg: Yun nga. Eye-popping!
Led: 'Di ka ba tinigasan ‘nun?
(Laughs)
Jomal: (pointing at something) “Tinitigasan ka na nga o!”
(Laughs)

Personal
Ianne: Saan kayo nag-college?
Jay: Sa UP [University of the Philipines]… Dilliman.
Dirg: Ang talino niyo pala.
Jomal: Matatalino talaga kami.
(Laughs)
Jordan: Ano bang course niyo?
Jay: Fine Arts.
Ianne: Ilang taon na ba kayong lahat?
Jomal: Ako 14.
(Laughs)
Led: Yosi? Gusto niyo?
Jay: May nagyoyosi ba sa inyo?
tWS: (shook our head)
Jomal: Patay!
Jay: Ilang taon nab a kayo?
Dirg: 18, legal age.
Jay: Kayo? (Looking at Marianne and Jordan)
Jordan:18, flat.
Ianne: Ako 12.
Jomal: 12 ka? Kaya pala ganyan ka…
Ianne: hahaha!
Jomal: ‘Di joke lang.
Jordan: Sinong pinakamakulet sa inyo?
Jomal: Ito! ( pointing at Jay)
Jay: Ako?
Jomal: Ikaw!
Puto: Lahat kami makukulit, iba’t-ibang klaseng kakulitan.
Ianne: Sinong pinakamahilig matulog?
Led: Kaming lahat!
Ianne: Sinong chickboy?
Jay: Si puto.
(Laughs)
Dirg: Sino may anak?
Kamikazee: (All members laugh pointing to someone. Jay guilty shots up his hand and admits it) “Magkakababy pa lang, matanda naman ako, ayos lang! At least, di ako baog!”

***

We dared to ask for more questions but as always, good times never last. Kamikazee had to perform in the Silliman Soccer Field for the Rexona First Day High. After all our futile attempts to have a word from them, finally we did get a lot from their mouths. Putting it all in this paper is not enough.

BookWorm (still hungry for Philippine Literature)

2006-05-31T15:58:00.000+08:00

New titles on my poetry book collections:
Quantum Fluctuations by Afv Serrano
Dust Devils by National Artist for Literature Virgilio S. Almario a.k.a Rio Alma

Soon to have books:
Philippine Spectulative Fiction by Dean Francis Alfar
Dreamweaver by Marjorie Evasco

Summer readings:
Sarcophagus and Other Stories by Jose Dalisay Jr. (courtesy of friend Dana)
Love in the Time of Cholera by: Gabriel Garcia Marquez (courtesy of Karla, the book is my Christmas gift for her)
Deception Point by Dan Brown (courtesy of my brother)

On my wait list (still to be published):
Sir Ian Rosales Casocot's short stories collection (to be published by UST Press)
Angelo V. Suavez third book, tentatively titled "Dissonant Umbrellas."

Summer Fun at Kaamulan

2006-05-24T18:56:00.000+08:00

Who says summer's only for beaches?

INTERVIEW WITH RAZCEL JAN LUIZ SALVARITA, President, Silliman University Student Government,2006-07

2006-05-18T22:16:00.000+08:00

Q: Why did you run for the SG Presidency?

A: I was approached and was challenged to take the lead for next school year’s Student Government. It goes to show that they think I’m capable of leading the Student Government. Personally, I see myself as someone who can lead the students. I am communicating with the different groups and sectors in Silliman (not just those involved with arts and environment). Some of them were very much willing also to make me lead them.
Q: What does your winning the SUSG presidency mean to you?

A: Those who voted for me want change. They somehow trust my being part of that change that they are thinking of for next year. And so I have to stand as a vehicle for change in Student Government actions and projects. Actually, they were responsible for my winning, so they must do their share for next school year’s activities.
Q: What are your top priorities?

A: One of the priorities is to engage students in all SUSG activities by creating activities that are of interest to our time. Second, is to make the students feel that they’re part of the Student Government. Third is to utilize and hone the skills of students.
Q: What is creative style of leadership?

A: It’s progressive and innovative and, of course, using traditional knowledge as the basic tool for creative leadership…I will personally engage “pop culture” psychology to channel activities for students’ active participation.
Q: What specific programs are you planning in line with creative style of leadership?

A: Of course, art would be a big part of it, because for me art is also a tool for educating students. Art is a communication tool. I don’t have a concrete plan for next year, but I have some things in mind. And, of course, we’ll try to really use the Student Government as a vehicle, as a voice for students’ concerns and also try to use the Student Government as a voice for certain issues not only inside the campus but also outside the campus.
Q: Do you think Silliman is ready to embrace this kind of leadership? Why is there a need to have this kind of leadership?

A: It’s a different generation, you know. We’re in the 21st century and we must somehow embrace a progressive approach in leadership. You know, obviously, if we use traditional stuff and most students are not anymore traditional in terms of thinking... We must also try to use their language for this kind of leadership to be effective. I think Silliman as a progressive institution must try to evaluate what approaches the university must conduct to also try to connect with 21st century students, something like that.
Q: In terms of the arts, culture, literature, do you think Silliman is still active or has the interest slowly waned?

A: Yes, it’s a pity that the University and the city are not doing something for arts, culture, heritage, etc. In the first place, Silliman and Dumaguete are a conducive place for artists, poets, writers, etc. We have institutionalized the National Writers Workshop and we have artists here who are not only known in the province but also nationally. I will try to tap outside organizations who are into the arts and culture to bring their stuff here in Silliman…such as the National Commission for Culture and the Arts. I have friends there who are willing to bring something here in Silliman. They have projects for the students and all you have to do is write them.
Q: Why are you taking up Master of Environmental Policy?

A: When I told them about my plan to pursue environmental policy, most of my friends would say better for me to do a Masters in Creative Writing or Fine Arts or Photography. Some of my teachers in mass com encouraged me to pursue (further studies) in Photography. But then I realized I’m more inclined to environmental work. That’s why I took up Biology for two years, before I shifted to mass com because of my love for writing, photography and art. So I fused both environmental courses and arts. I’m taking up Masters in Environmental Policy because we need environmental policymakers and environmental journalists.
Q: Please tell us a bit about your family background.

A: I belong to an artist family. My tatay is a full-time painter and artist. He stays at home painting, every single day. And my nanay, she’s a teacher, but she also does some drawings at school. Both of my brothers are painters and artists. I have two (brothers) and I’m the youngest. My place of origin is Bacolod City. There’s a plan to put up a painting gallery, but wala pa, maybe in a year or two.
Q: What are your main interests?

A: Major interests…of course, environmentally inclined activities, arts and culture. Minor interests…probably communicating with people and traveling. That’s why I travel around the Philippines just to connect with people and also to experience other traditions. I’ve seen most of the Visayas. I’ve been to Babuyan Islands (monitoring) the Humpback whales, been to Luzon but not yet to Mindanao. Abroad, a taste of Hong Kong and Canada.
Q: What are your achievements as an artist?

A: I’ve done art exhibits. I organized art exhibits here in Silliman and Dumaguete…I also participated in some art competitions and I won in some. In elementary, high school and college, I won first place in most competitions I joined. Outside the school, I was a semi-finalist in Metrobank (national painting contest). But for me, I participate just to empower myself. Of course, opportunities and awards are just end results of the challenges.
Q: What is art to you?

A: Art is an extension of my way of dealing with life itself, an instrument for me to express myself. It adds color to my being. Without art, I’ll go crazy.
Q: How about your passion for the environment, when did this start?

A: It started with my exposure to the environment through mountain climbing and traveling. It was triggered three years ago with that Balinsasayao thing (Note: The controversy following a proposal to reduce the area of the protected forest in Lake Balinsasalyao in southern Negros, against which Salvarita was an active protester.) I work for environmental conservation because of my vision of the future for my kids to enjoy the beauty of the environment.
Q: Who are your heroes?

A: I admire Rachel Carson. She’s an environmentalist. I admire people who work for the environment and have made an impact in the world.
Q: Your motto?

A: Create a vision and take action to make a difference.
Q: How do you see yourself 10 years from now?

A: I would be 30 something then. Hopefully, I will be traveling around the world and be an instrument of communication for the environment and the arts. From art, that’s where appreciation starts. For me, the connection between art and the environment is appreciation, which is the key to concern. I am happy that in my life I have been able to fuse the two.

Good News To All Writer Wannabes (Like Me)

2006-05-07T17:14:00.000+08:00

Sir Ian Casocot informed me that the Graciano Arinday Literary Awards will soon be revived,probably this school year, to award the best fictions, essays, and poems from Silliman students. Now that's certainly a good news and something that a lot of Sillimanians will be anticipating to join. It's now time to recognize and bring back the glory that Silliman are famous for--it's pool of writers which made multi-awarded writer Dean Alfar believe Dumaguete is the home for writers. When Sir Ian first told me about this news, it has already been on my mind on what to write and if I have what it takes to write literary. Right now, I still need to convince myself that I could actually write and once I get through with my frustrations then probably it's time for me to get my pen and paper and wait in agony until blood comes out on my forehead.

Poetry Tips From My Favorite Poet

2006-05-04T18:32:00.000+08:00

Poet and my former English teacher, Niccolo Rocamora Vitug, sent me an email giving me tips on poetry writing. Sir Nikko, a Creative Writing graduate of Ateneo de Manila, is the one who influenced me to appreciate Philippine Literature when part of our class requirments is to read books from Dumaguete-based writers such as National Artists for Literature Edith Tiempo (The Builder), Bobby Flores Villasis (Suite Bergamasque), and Ernesto Superal Yee (Ember Days). After his class, I found myself spending more time on browsing Filipiniana shelves of National Bookstore and having a regular meeting with my classmates at the Filipiniana section of the school Library.

Im posting here his email.

Hi Dirgy! I'm very happy that you have taken an interest in Creative Writing and Philippine Literature, and that I, somehow, had partly sparkedthis current enthusiasm.
About your request for tips on writing poetry:
1. The first thing you have to do is WRITE poems. Do not feel bad that the do not sound, or work, as other poems work on readers. You have to respect your artistic and creative self, and just write, whatever the others say about you and your work.
2. I would suggest that you read more poems aswell. You will get a feel of the form and the elements of poetry when you read more. And, I think, you will also have a greater idea of what you're really after when writing poems - and pick and discard ideas that you get from the poems that you read. Make sure you read the works of the Dumaguete writers, and a healthy dose of works from other regions and countries as well.
3. Reading critical works will also be of great help. But, always remember that critical works are not end-all be-all works. In the end, the human consciousness and awareness is always changing, and what was considered artistic back then may not be considered artistic now. Maybe, you will also not agree with the things that you read, and you must respect what you think and feel, and write what you think is poetry. For starters , read up on Aristotle's Poetics, The 10th chapter of Plato's republic (or the chapterabout artists, am not sure about the chapter number), Longinus's "On the Sublime", and Seneca's "Ars Poetica". To contrast with these readings, you may want to read Julia Cameron's "The Right to Write". Ask your Sir Ian -he is well versed in contemporary critical works (he was my teacher, actually :) ).
4. What I am really saying is that you should learn to be alone - to believe what others say about literature and writing; and yet be critical, and fromyour own experience, choose forms and elements that ring true for you. Always be brave - not everyone will agree with you, but if you think you're doing the right thing, there shouldn't be a problem, is there?
This sounds simpler than it seems - I mean, about facing the world and presenting your work to them. But that is the only option there is - to a certain extent make yourself vulnerable to what others will say. Make sure you have a space that is all your own, where you can review what you have written, what you believe and stand for, and restore the energy to face the sometimes cruel, but more often the world full of joys and inspirations, which give us life, the drive to create, the drive to write. If there weren't so much beauty in life, we would have no energy and reason to write.

Sir Nikko

Barrio Lass of Bukidnon on PBB

2006-04-25T22:12:00.000+08:00

Finally, someone is bringing the name of my hometown Malaybalay City, Bukidnon in the showbiz scene through Clare Cabiguin who was basically unknown by many even by the locals until she found herself inside the Big Brother house. Since the plugging of the show, there was already a stir of speculations on who was the lucky one from Bukidnon who passed the screening for the hit reality-show. So when the night came for the 12 teen housemates to be introduced, it actually raised some of our eyebrows upon learning who she was. If I’m not mistaken, never before had someone from Bukidnon have reached this far in national television—except perhaps by some politicians. But to have a teenage Bukidnon that qualified for Pinoy Big Brother is something that we should all be proud of. But then, the expected disappointment (on cases embarrassment) was shared by some because of her hard bisaya-tagalog-accent, her being dark skinned, and being less sosyal compared to the other girls. The worst part is that she is even being defined as ‘barrio lass.’ I think these are the reason why Clare passed the audition, because while most of the chosen ones were city-breed, they also favored a probinsyana to be mixed with different teenage personalities in one house and see how they will survive each others difference. Being a true-blooded Bukidnon, having my province represented by Clare is not a disappointment at all. Whether she will be voted out early or not, her bisaya-accent, her dark skin, and her simplicity are enough to consider this barrio lass as the province’s pride.

****

The Bukidnon lass found out early in her beauty pageant life that you cannot please everybody. "Naniniwala po akong friendly ako. Pero yung iba nami-misinterpret nila ayaw nila sa akin kasi sinasabi nila maarte ako and mahilig mag-make-up." She finds her gay friends the most supporting though. "Sumasali po ako sa beauty contests sa Bukidnon, sa mga search sa iba't ibang munisipyo. Kinukuha nila ako like nung huli kong sinalihan sa Ms. Sugarland sa Maramag. Masaya po ako dahil nanalo naman po ako."
Besides winning beauty titles, Clare says her list of goals includes finishing her studies then helping her siblings finish their own education. "Gusto ko pong matulungan ang pamilya ko." Clare's family lived a luxurious life before her father's loaning business went bankrupt. Her father now works as a janitor at a local hospital and drives a multicab, a mode of transportation in Bukidnon, as his sideline. "Kaya nga po ako sumasali sa beauty contest sa bara-baranggay at munisipyo dito para magka-pera at matulungan ang mama at papa ko. Para kahit minsan ako naman ang bumili ng bigas." Clare reasons out to why she's striving so hard to succeed at her young age. She also states that her stint on Pinoy Big Brother will take her closer to that goal if she wins plus to another dream of hers - becoming a TV actress.
Clare doesn't consider her boyfriend, who works as a fireman in her town as a roadblock to her dreams. In fact he is very much supportive of her ambitions. "Siya pa nga ang nagsasabi na 'Sige. Sumali ka.'" She does not consider her lack of cooking skills a big minus point as a house maker nor PBB contender. "Kaya ko po maglaba at plantsa. Prito po kaya kong lutuin. Matututo din naman ako siguro balang araw."

Eternal Sunset

2006-04-22T11:28:00.000+08:00

Sundown has always been my favorite time of the day. Being a photographer-wannabe (I’m a wannabe on almost everything), nature is always my favorite subject because of its unpredictability and natural beauty. I find everything in nature are beautiful, it’s just a matter of finding the right angle and focus (as if I know anything in photography!) And for me, nothing is more beautiful than to capture nature’s own canvass of the sun casting low that results to a magnificent mixture of hues bringing out in me the feeling of awe and profound emotion (though unclassified). I consider sundown as the climax of the day when the sky could showcase its own splendor through display of heavenly colors as it envelop behind the clouds. It’s always a good thing to have your camera with you to record this moment since the sundown today will always be different tomorrow.

Strolling along the acacias

Silliman Church on its divine beauty

Camiguin sunset

Malaybalay beauty

Dean Alfar's Call for Fiction Submission

2006-04-19T18:19:00.000+08:00

Dean Alfar is now accepting submissions of short fiction pieces for consideration for the anthology "Philippine Speculative Fiction Vol.2". Speculative fiction is the literature of wonder that spans the genres of fantasy, science fiction, horror and magic realism or falls into the cracks in-between.

1. Only works of speculative fiction will be considered for publication. As works of the imagination, the theme is open and free.

2. Stories must cater to an adult sensibility.

3. Stories must be written in English.

4. Stories must be authored by Filipinos or those of Philippine ancestry.

5. Preference will be given to original unpublished stories, but previously published stories will also be considered. In the case of previously published material, kindly include the title of the publishing entity and the publication date.

6. First time authors are welcome to submit. In the initial volume, there was a near 50-50 split of established and new authors.

7. Each author may submit only one story for consideration.

8. Each story’s word count must be no fewer than 3,000 words and no more than 5,000 words.

9. All submissions must be in Rich Text Format (.rtf – save the document as .rft on your word processor) and attached to an email to this address: dean@kestrelimc.com. Submissions received in any other format will be deleted, unread.

10. The subject of your email must read: 2nd Philippine Speculative Fiction Submission: (title) (word count); where (title) is replaced by the title of your short story, without the parentheses, and (word count) is the word count of your story, without the parentheses.

For example - 2nd Philippine Speculative Fiction Submission: The Last Siren 4500.

11. All submissions must be accompanied by a cover letter that includes your name, brief bio, contact information, previous work (if any).

12. Deadline for submissions is September 15, 2006. After that date, final choices will be made and letters of acceptance or regret sent out via email.

13. Target publishing date is December 2006/January 2007.

14. Compensation for selected stories will be 2 contributor’s copies of the published anthology.

Escape to Camiguin

2006-04-18T15:28:00.000+08:00

Together with my brother and his friends, I spent the rest of the Holy Week in the volcano island of Camigiun. It was a three-day escapade with endless swimming and picture taking. Camiguin Island may only have a total land area of 238 sq. km but it is the home of seven active volcanoes whose number is unmatched by any island in Southeast Asia—that’s our equivalent to Hawaii. Nicknamed as the island “Born of Fire,” volcanic eruptions and land movement formed this only island province in Region X with spectacular natural wonders and historical riches.My initial impression of Camiguin is its close resemblance to the island of Siquijor where I once had my sojourn last September. The island may be small but its beauty is incomparable to any places that I’ve been. The island is not only blessed with towering volcanoes but you will also find hot and cold natural springs, pristine patches of dark- and white-sand beaches, majestic waterfalls, exotic marine life, blue-ridge mountains, church ruins, and even a sunken cemetery—all these are just few of what made Camiguin among of the top tourist destinations in the country.

First Day, Maundy Thursday
With our things packed and tents all ready, we took a one-hour bus ride from Cagayan de Oro to Balingoan, Misamis Oriental. From Balingoan, it was a one and a half-hour barge ride to Camiguin, docking at the port of Benoni. Upon reaching Camiguin, I was surprised to see that the island was flocked with tourists and a thought came into my mind that with this number of visitors, what if the island would actually sink. I later learned that this was usual during Holy Week where tourists, both local and foreign, would celebrate with the Camiguingnons their Panaad Festival.
Our team didn’t waste any minute as we headed directly to our find stop at the Cold Water Pool in Sto. Nino, Catarman. With our stomach full from our lunch in Benoni, we took a dip on the spring water whose name is a reiteration to the coldness it has. The spring was also full of people, all enjoying and shivering from the cold water.
Not yet contented with our dip, we then headed to Soda Swimming Pool where we once again took a swim. Locals said that the water from the pool has mineral-contents from the volcano that towers on the backdrop, giving the water a distinct sweet soda-like taste. But I cannot attest that as I didn’t dare to taste the pool-water.
Our next destination brought us to the Walkway to the Old Volcano. Along the way, we passed by people doing their Holy Week Penetensya by hiking around the 64 km circumferential road of Camiguin which made me think that people who was crazy enough to walk this far must have committed a lot of sins and in dire need of redemption. It was like a feast when we reached Walkway and it was only there when I found out that part of our itinerary was to climb all the way up to the volcano. There were a lot of people crowding the Old Volcano as you can also find here the 14 Stations of the Cross dotted along the trail. There were life-size statues depicting the passion of Jesus Christ and a lot of devotees hike their way up to the volcano while reciting their prayers. Not a devotee myself, I was still opted to climbed and agonized for hours of walk all the way to the last Station. A while ago, we were soaked in cold water from our swims but now we were drenched by our own sweats. It was late afternoon and just when I was about to give up, the most beautiful sunset unfolded before me in the horizon, and the more I ascended up to the mountain, the more breathtaking the view had become. I’ve never seen a sunset this beautiful!
With pain in our muscles, it was already 7 pm when we went down from the volcano and after we had our supper (fortunately not our last) we went to the Old Catarman Church Ruins to camp for the night. I found out that the church which supposed to stand on the area was built in 1697 but in 1871 Mt. Vulcan devastatingly erupted wiping out the town of Catarman and what remained to this once magnificent church are ruins of adobe walls of the church, belfry and convent.
A lot of people had already erected their tents on the ground of the church when we reached there. We assembled out own tents and ended our first day stay in Camiguin with the full moon overhead and the stone-wall ruins surrounding us.

Second Day, Good Friday
After we packed back out tents, we then went to the famous sunken cemetery which is just beside the Church Ruins. This sunken cemetery is also a testimony to the devastation of the 1871 volcanic eruption. Coral encrusted tombstones can still be explored by snorkellers and scuba divers. A huge cross was installed in the sea to mark the community cemetery that sunk.
Before we went to Camiguin, we already had an arrangement for a one-night accommodation at the Camiguin School of Arts and Technology in Mambajao, the capital town of Camiguin. We went there after our quick stop at the Sunken Cemetery and the moment we found our soft foam bed, we all fall sound asleep which only showed how tired we were from our adventures the day before.
We didn’t wake up until afternoon and we then went to Ardan Hot Spring. From our cold-water dip yesterday, this time we were all soothed by the warm natural spring at the foot of Mt. Hibok-Hibok. One pool even has a temperature of 38 degree Celsius and many says that dipping in its hot water is a best treatment for any therapeutic ailment since it contains sulfur, which is said to be a medical element that may cure some illnesses. The warm water was so comforting to our ailing muscles that we’ve stayed there immersed for hours.
After we felt contented and all soothed in the hot spring, we head back to our dormitory to change clothes and took a night stroll around the Mambajao. Just like Siquijor, I found Camiguin to have the same features as being laid back and sleepy with idyllic lifestyles, a perfect haven for those who need a getaway from the stressful urban environment.

Third Day, Black Saturday
We started our day early as it is best to go to White Island early in the morning when the sun is just rising above horizon. We cross the sea to reach the island in a small pumpboat. The small inhabited white sandbar island, with a shape that differs depending on the tide, is ideal for swimming, sunbathing, snorkeling, and shell collecting. What made it more picturesque is the Mt. Hibok-Hibok and Mt. Vulcan on its backdrop. I’m not really a fan of beaches but I just can’t resist taking a swim on its crystal clear water. During high tide, this small sandbar will then be overflowed with water.
Our last destination was the Katibawasan Falls which is located at the foot of Mt. Timpoong, five kilometers away from Mambajao. The waterfalls measures about 250 feet high and I instantly stripped my clothes off and plunged on the ice cold water. The water was so cold that I was shivering making this falls a perfect place to cool off from the hot summer heat.
At about 2pm, we head back to the port of Benoni as we were all ready to leave Camiguin Island, feeling all contented but not fully satisfied as well all know that there are still a lot this small island could offer.
It was my first visit to Camiguin and I have all the reasons with me why it is so easy to fall in love with the island. The main attraction of Camiguin is not only the sheer concentration of its natural wonders but also to its residents who are simple, genuinely friendly, jovial, and hospitable.
While people celebrated the Holy Week for Christ’s resurrection, I celebrated it in a different way through connecting with nature and experiencing all its divinity through appreciation of all its beauty—and that for me is part of ones spiritual quest.
Surely, it will not be impossible if I will find myself again going back to Camiguin someday.

Two Lightyears Ago

2006-04-06T14:39:00.000+08:00

I got this picture from my high school yearbook and this is how I looked like two years ago. This kind of photo reminds me of those portraits placed on top of the coffin to remind others that the one laying underneath has once had a face, before it was disfigured to an embarrassing appearance. It also remind me of those old portraits hanged on the wall of our century-old house in Bohol that always give me a creep wherever I stare on those unrecognizable faces, and they would tell me that they were my ancestors.

Years from now, this picture would end up either of the two.

IS THE PEN DRY IN DUMAGUETE? (You don't get this often)

2006-03-30T14:38:00.000+08:00

From MetroPost column, Tempest in a Coffee Mug by Ian Rosales Casocot

[I'm out of words reading this. I didn't expect my letter to create such impact. Thank you,Sir]

Near the end of the second semester in Silliman University, one of my former students -- a brash and promising future mass communicator named Rodrigo Bolivar -- wrote me an email which stirred the writer and teacher in me. What I felt, perhaps, after reading the email, was a sudden awareness of the need for a kind of cultural advocacy, or a realization that something must be done to awaken what has been virtually sleeping in Dumaguete for the past years -- which is our creative writing culture.

I am printing that letter in full, which goes:

Dear Sir Ian,

During my last trip in Bacolod for the Negros-wide Journalists Fellowship, I was amazed to see how much the students in the University of St. La Salle are into literary works. They publish an annual literary folio, and I [found] all the [published] short stories and poetry to be not mediocre [at all] but could be considered [seriously literary]. I was also amazed when they told me that one of their past times is to do poetry reading at local cafes and coffee shops.

So when one student from St. La Salle asked me how the creative writing "culture" was here in Dumaguete, I [couldn't] answer because I really didn't know what to say. Sir, let me ask you, how is the creative writing "culture" here in Dumaguete?

I remember asking somebody in Silliman how come not many in the faculty of the English department are getting themselves involved in literary competitions, in publishing books, etc. The person was not able to answer that. This afternoon, I asked Mr. Misael Ondong [note: an English teacher in Silliman] about the creative writing culture in Dumaguete, and he told me that it was in a "drought." Mr. Niccolo Vitug [note: a poet and former English teacher in Silliman] even told me before that the Creative Writing Program in Silliman wasn't as good as it had been before.

Is the creative writing 'Golden Age' already over in Silliman? Weren't you the one who once told me that Dumaguete is a rite of passage for Filipino writers, and that there's no significant writer in the Philippines today that has no connection [of some sort] with Dumaguete? What has happened to our Silliman students? How come it has been quite some time since a Sillimanian even qualified for the Dumaguete National Writers Workshop?

Mr. Ondong told me that it is because the best student writers in Silliman right now are enrolled in Nursing, and they are busy students -- and they know they will not be pursuing a writing career in the future. I remember that the Kapunungan ng mga Mass Communicators once held a poetry reading at Sted's Locker Room during the first semester, but it flopped.

Do you think the students right now are not anymore interested in writing, or even reading? Do you think it is because the best writers on school are now in the College of Nursing and that they are all busy [to bother with] poetry readings? Or has the creative writing culture here simply diminished or has deteriorated?

I think something should be done on this, Sir.

Yours, Rodrigo

You don't get letters like that from students everyday. It moved me, and alas it also awakened something in me. What I find most tragic in the aftermath of reading the letter is the fact that Rodrigo -- in many senses -- hits it right on the bull's eye. Dumaguete, once easily touted as the creative writing capital of the country, seems to have gone the way of a dry well.

I formulated a response to Rodrigo's email, after nights of agonizing over the right thing to say. What resulted is an essay that will surpass the acceptable length of this post. So this literary thread has to continue next week.

[It even got comments from Dean Alfar(whehehehe!), Dominique Cimafranca and Kristyn Levis]

Dean Alfar:
I, for one, am startled by this. I was always under the assumption that there was a vibrant writing culture in Dumaguete. I mean, how can there not? Mom Tiempo is there, you are there, writers live there. It's very distressing and I look forward to your response.

Kristyn Maslog-Levis:
This is very sad. What's happening to SU?!

Ian Casocot:
we do have a writing culture, it's just not very active right now.don't worry. am changing this.

Dominique Cimafranca:
I was thinking about this when I first read it in the Metro Post. Three things came to mind, though these don't necessarily point to the heart of the matter:1) We're suffering from narrow overspecialization. This is not an observation on Dumaguete alone but on Philippine society as a whole. Even Rodrigo falls prey to this, I think. Literature should not be a specialized endeavor limited to AB English or MassCom, but should be encouraged among everybody, nursing students included. Alas, the professionals have edged out the amateurs (and if we go back to the root of "amateur", it really means someone who does it for love).2) We need to move with the times. Literature should no longer be limited to the printed word on dead-tree. Instead, Literature should begin to explore other media, such as comics, the hyperstory, and even film. As it stands, the way we tell our stories and even the stories that we tell have become stultified (see previous discussion).3) Together with point (2), we should explore the means by which writers can get compensated for their work. Case in point: someone from Guimaras writing erotica and earning $200 per month on AdSense. Love is one thing, and money is another.

Ian Casocot:
very good points, dom. may i incorporate these in my column?

Dominique Cimafranca:
Sure thing, boss!

Dirg's: Engrave in his hand

2006-03-18T12:43:00.000+08:00

by: Gabriel Urdaneta

Write his epitaph...

He is a man who avows(together with Gelo) that alcohol
begets wisdom and
wisdom begets his craft.

Write his epitaph...

He is a man with spectacles
that gave him visionlike a hawk and saw
metaphors in everyday life.

Write his epitaph...

He is my ally in treading
the path towards our progression
as poets and as vanguardsof liberty and democracy.

*Gabriel Urdaneta won Third place in the STRAW poetry writing contest. He is my co-founder of the Literary Guild of Silliman (LiGid).

Applications Being Accepted For Dumaguete Workshop

2006-03-13T17:53:00.000+08:00

Applications for fellowships to the 45th National Writers Workshop in Dumaguete City are being accepted until March 31. National Artist for Literature Edith L. Tiempo, workshop director, announced that the summer sessions are to be held from May 8 to 27.
Application letters should be addressed to Dr. Tiempo, 2nd Floor, CAP Building, Rizal Boulevard, Dumaguete City, together with a resum, two 1x2-inch photos of the applicant, and manuscripts in English in any of the following genres, with respective quantity: 3-5 short stories, 7-10 poems, 3-5 creative non-fiction essays, or 2 one-act plays.
The manuscripts can be sent as hardcopy, but should also be accompanied by a disk copy, preferably in MS Word, plus a certification that the works are original and a recommendation letter from a professor of literature or creative writing or a writer of distinction.
Fellowships cover board and lodging and a modest stipend for the duration of the workshop, as well as partial reimbursement of travel fare.
Writers who have already received fellowships in other national workshops for this year are enjoined to apply at another time.

Signing off...

2006-03-10T17:09:00.000+08:00

(Editorial,March 10, 2006)

Once again another school year nears completion. With the culmination of yet another academic year comes the time to reap the fruits of one's hard work and the time to bear the consequences of one's failure, most likely the outcome of one's procastination. With March comes the smell of starched togas and the sweet fragrance of victory of the graduating seniors as they walk the final walk, diploma in hand while others wallow in the thought of the years in school that still loom ahead.

This year has been both particularly gratifying and well, disappointing at the same time, which is to say, it had both memorable high and low points. As far as infrastructures are concerned, the thorn on the side of many Sillimanians that still throbs is the insistence of Rep. Sunny Madamba to darken Hibbard Avenue with that overpass monstrosity at the expense of some Acacia trees. On the other hand, many found the construction of Silliman Hall-inspired Jollibee within the campus happy news, that is, before they found out that there will be no entry points from the campus to the famed establishment.

It was also this year that Silliman decided to be less lax (even though the students have always reveled in the freedom this laxness inspires) and impose a 'No ID, No Entry' policy. Expectedly, the Admin had a hard time imposing this, but walking around, we see more and more students wearing IDs. Sillimanians always come around after all.

Next year, we have many developements to look forward to: the Udarbe Chapel, possibly a new program under the College of Bussiness Administration, a new student government president and of course, a new University president. What do you know, perhaps, we should all look forward to a new Silliman, as well.
One thing's for sure, whatever changes may come some things will remain the same. The paper will always be here to deliver information, air out concerns and urge Sillimanians to think and be involved. And so, even as we bid you farewell for now, rest assured, come june, tWS will be there to welcome you.

We were there at the beginning and now, we meet at the end. It's been one heck of a year and it's been our pleasure to serve you. This is the Weekly Sillimanian, signing off.

For laughing out loud!

2006-03-06T21:20:00.000+08:00

To all those who can't get over with Brokerback Mountain and its lost to the Oscar for Best Picture, now check these bunnies as they do their own brokeback. The Brokeback Bunnies.

The Tale of Tonyo the Brave

2006-03-06T20:30:00.000+08:00

Finally, I found a short fiction that use Bukidnon as setting. The Tale of Tonyo the Brave by Maria Aleah Taboclaon. I don't know , though, how she is connected with Bukidnon.

Something to be busy on...

2006-03-01T19:57:00.000+08:00

BE ONE OF THE 15 FELLOWS IN THE IYAS CREATIVE WRITING WORKSHOP WITH MULTI-AWARDED WRITERS!
The Iyas Creative Writing Workshop is now accepting fellowship applicants for this year's workshop, to be held April 25 to May 1, 2006, at Balay Kalinungan, University of St. La Salle in Bacolod City , Negros Occidental.
Fifteen fellowships will be awarded according to genre and language. Grants will cover board and lodging and a partial transportation subsidy. Deadline for application is on March 31, 2006.
Interested parties may send two short stories, six poems, or two short plays for consideration, signed with a pseudonym, along with a sealed business envelope containing the author's real name and pseudonym, a 2x2" ID photo, and a short resumé. Works must be submitted in five hard copies, manuscript format 12 pt Times New Roman, letter-size paper), accompanied by a soft copy (MS Word format) on a diskette. Works may be in English, Filipino, Tagalog, Hiligaynon, or Cebuano.
Send applications to: Dr. Gloria Fuentes, college of Arts and Sciences, University of St. La Salle , La Salle Avenue , Bacolod City, Negros Occidental 6100. Inquiries may be sent to glofuentes@yahoo.com .
This year's panelists include Cirilo Bautista, Marjorie Evasco, Elsi Coscoluella, Rayboy Pandan, Genevieve Asenjo, and Malou Jacob.
The Iyas Creative Writing Workshop is sponsored by the University of St. La Salle , the Bienvenido N. Santos Creative Writing Center of De La Salle University, and the National Commission for Culture and the Arts.

13th Iligan National Writers Workshop (INWW) Now Accepting Applicants
The National Commission for Culture and Arts (NCCA) and the Mindanao State University-Iligan Institute of Technology’s Office of the Vice Chancellor for Reseach and Extension (OVCRE) are accepting applications from writers to the 13th Iligan National Writers Workshop (INWW) to be held on May 22-24, 2006 in Iligan City.Panelists this year are Rosario Cruz Lucero, Erlinda Kintanar Alburo, Jaime An Lim, Leoncio P. Deriada, Merlie M. Alunan, German V. Gervacio, Steven Patrick C. Fernandez and this year’s keynote speaker, the poet Michael U. Obenieta, 3rd INWW Fellow (1996)Fifteen (15) slots, five each from Luzon, Visayas and Mindanao are available for writing fellowships to the INWW.Applicants are required to submit five poems, or, one short story, or, a one-act play in Filipino, English or in Cebuano, Hiligaynon, Kinaray-a, Waray (with translations) along with the applicant’s biodata, two 2X2 photos and a certification that his/her work is original. For short stories or plays, please submit a hard copy and a 3.5 diskette with the manuscripts encoded in MS Word 7.0. Unpublished works are preferred. Writing fellows will be given free board and lodging, honoraria and a travel allowance. Applications must be postmarked on or before March 30,2006. No applications or manuscripts will be accepted if sent by fax or e-mail. Applicants are also advised to keep copies of their manuscripts since these will not be returned.
Send all applications to the 13th INWW Director, Christine Godinez-Ortega c/o OVCRE, MSU-IIT, Iligan City.
For more information call Pat Cruz tels. (063) 3516131; or e-mail: ovcre-mepc@sulat.msuiit.edu.ph

The River Affair

2006-02-08T11:28:00.000+08:00

(for someone I once knew)

I.
Just like any girls you dreamed of your hero who
could save you from your own nightmares.

Have you remembered when this river of winding flow
became the playground of our childhood mischiefs,

Sharing our nakedness
with no malice
as we showered each other with its ice-cold offering?

Have you remembered when we stared at each other's
body and gaze with curiosity the changes that unfold?

And have you remembered when we realized that
these changes could pave way to a new mischief that we
could play?

We made love
behind the giant rocks
away from the eyes of women doing laundries,

And at that moment when our moans echoed
at the rock with our names painted on it,

You said you found your hero who
could save you from your own nightmare.

But I was never that.

I left you because I could not love you,
and there was never a heart drawn between our
painted names.

II.
What beckoned me to return to this river,
now murky and the rocks full of graffiti?

I found our withered names at the spot
where we once made love--

but there was never love
only desire and lust.

I saw your ghost carrying a life within
your frail body that I once devour.

You still have shackles around your bony hands
and he left you because he too

cannot love you.

Your mischiefs caused the fishes of this river to die
and those memories I have long buried the moment
I left my sould away from you.

The river still has life but barely breathing
and calamities still hit it once in a while.

Your eyes are ghost of itself,
haunting the tears off you, and

Just like any girls you still dreamed of your hero who
could save you from your own nightmare.

The Wonder Years

2006-02-07T19:06:00.000+08:00

Time is a one-way route and there’s no turning back. What was done was already done, and there’s no way can we alter the past or perhaps travel back in time where everything was bliss of innocence and nothing more.
Longing.
It best describe the melancholy I has almost every night wherever I find myself in solace after the day of meeting deadlines and finishing workloads. It is the pensive I had every time I put on the earphone of my MP3 and listen to my music until the rhythm on my ears would drift me to slumber. The music are not anymore just melodies but a mementos of distant childhood—and they were real and concrete, and the flashing images are as vivid as a television screen on my mind’s geography. It was those music that woke me up in the morning as my brother would play his rock collections. Or those that were once on MTV’s Hit lists before they became Classics.
I am now 18—going 19 and what haunts me once in the while is the thought of growing up. It is this apprehension to fully accept reality. I grow older everyday and what I have now will all become my yesterday, my yesterday into past, and past will nothing be but memory. My nostalgias are strong and infectious and every time I ponder on it, it gave me a heavy heart for longing. My body may grow faster than I want it to be but something tells me that my heart remain as the child that I was.
I still find comfort at reconciling with memories, like an old company that I once left behind. It was those times when the world is at the confinement of playgrounds and mud-cakes. It was those times when life is all about ice cream and Ninja Turtles. It was those times when words are simple; where “real” was all there is before I learned the meaning of “imagination” and “pretension.” Or “magic” was the hare that hopped out of the hat, before I knew of the word “illusion.” It was those times when laughter was true before I learned to use it as cover-up for loneliness. The wonder of it is at its color of bright and fresh, far away from the sepia or black-and-white that I have now.
Straight up, I’m still a kid—occasionally get lost and in need of company to play with once in a while. Years from now, I will miss everything, even today and the days that follow. What I am certain of is that memory can be a company that I once lost, and to search it is just to open my mind to remembrance for they already lay buried within me.

Below is an article from Young Blood by a man whose sentiments are the same as mine.

Six

2006-02-07T19:04:00.000+08:00

Simon Louis Errol E. Torres, 23, finished BA Philosophy at the University of the Philippines in Diliman.

It was five o’clock on a breezy Monday morning. My head was still buried in my soft pillow and I was rubbing my left check. Somewhere between being awake and asleep, I yielded to the temptation to continue my slumber. I forced myself to dream.
I was 6 years old again. There was no need to hurry. No long lines and traffic to beat. My day’s activities consisted of endless games, sloppy eating, running and smashing antique vases along the way. There’s no annoying boss in sight, no cubicle to limit my movements, no covetous and nosy colleagues. No gossip to ruin the day. And best of all, no dreaded deadlines and stressful meetings and paper-works to be done.
The alarm clock suddenly rings. Is it the end of the world? The banging sound in my ear makes it seem so. I forced myself to get up.
I’m no longer 6. My feet are bigger and I’m a wolf below my torso. I stare at myself in the mirror and all the tell-tale signs of staying up late so many nights are painted beneath my eyes. There are white strands of hair on my head, but luckily no wrinkles on my forehead yet.
I reach for a towel and take a bath by myself. Put my clothes on by myself and make breakfast by myself. I reach for the match box in the cupboard without hearing a high-pitched voice telling me not to do so. I do not need a chair to step on to get the bowls on the drawer. There’s no hand to hold my spoon but my own.
I go outside and cross the street without an arm to cling on to. I do not stand in the middle of the crowd crying for my mom. I get on my way in a robotic fashion.
I have grown up. I have become an independent soul. Carebears and Bioman are icons of the past. Rambo slippers are now comforts of a distant child.
I cannot go back. I cannot run and hide behind my father’s legs when a man with a thick beard arrives. I cannot run around the neighborhood sucking my thumb. I cannot squeeze myself inside a tree house when I am lonely and sad. I cannot poop in my pants or wherever. I cannot dive to the floor and wail when I don’t get what I want.
I am a man now. And social norms tell me I must be gentle and not too loud. There are expectations I need to meet and responsibilities I must fulfill. I should act my age and be a model for the young. I should be mindful of the consequences of my actions and decisions. I have to face pain on my own.
And yet, at times, I miss the little guy. Worry-free. Oozing with energy. Spontaneous and free. I miss the chuckle and the infectious smile. I miss rolling like a madman on the spongy grass in the park. I miss hopping like a bunny or balancing on the street gutter. I miss the chocolate and ice cream. I miss the camaraderie and tender love when my brother carried me on his back.
I miss the pinches on my cheeks given by doting aunts and cousins. I miss the stinging sensation when the leather belt came in contact with the skin. I miss the bumps and bruises on the head, elbows and knees. I miss the innocence, the stillness and the pain.
But it’s inevitable. You have to let go some time. Sometimes you have to play along not because it’s the right thing to do but because it’s the practice. I have to accept that childhood is now in my past and there’s no going back there. Maybe I can return when I reach 80, but something tells me it will not be the same.
Childhood is a completely different world from my own. It’s a world where everything seems to happen for the first time, a place of discovery and excitement, where cartoon characters are real and alive. Anxiety is an alien word there. It’s a world I want to forever belong to but to which I cannot return.
The next morning, it rained. I got up, went outside, spread my arms and let the rain touch my face and run through my hands. It was bliss. I was 6 again.

Remnants of 90's

2006-02-07T19:00:00.000+08:00

Still remeber...?

Ø Semisonic, “Closing Time”
Ø R.E.M, “Day Sleeper”
Ø Boyzone, “No Matter What”
Ø The Wonder Years
Ø Lou Vega, “Mambo No. 5”
Ø Los del Rio, “Macarena”
Ø Ang TV
Ø Tender Juicy Hotdog, “Dear Carlo” commercial
Ø T.G.I.S.
Ø Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle
Ø Eraserheads
Ø Hulk Hogan
Ø My Girl
Ø Saved by the Bell
Ø Back to the Future
Ø Smart Guy
Ø Power Rangers
Ø Goosebumps
Ø Power Pens
Ø Play Dough
Ø “Are You Afraid of the Dark”
Ø Baywatch
Ø Archie Comics
Ø Bazooka bubble gum comics
Ø Botchoy
Ø White Rabbit
Ø Orange candy
Ø Tarzan chewing gum
Ø Lego
Ø Belt bag
Ø Jumpers
Ø Angel’s Breath
Ø Baby-G watch
Ø Bon Jovi
Ø Guns ‘n Roses
Ø Brick game
Ø Trolls
Ø Slinky
Ø Tamaguchi
Ø Gwapings
Ø Shake, Rattle and Roll
Ø Walkman
Ø Family computer
Ø Super Mario
Ø G.I. Joe
Ø Betamax
Ø Rubik’s Cube
Ø Rambo
Ø Madonna
Ø Free Willy
Ø Michael Jackson, “Heal the World”
Ø Wham!, “Wake Me Up Before I Go Go”
Ø USA for Africa, “We are the Children”
Ø Olivia Newton-John, “Let’s get Physical”
Ø Grease
Ø APO Hiking Society
Ø The Little Rascals
Ø Hoy Gising!
Ø Batang X
Ø Michael Learns to Rock
Ø Skittles
Ø Richie Rich
Ø Moffats, “If Life is So Short”
Ø Hansons, “Hmm Bop”
Ø Spice Girls
Ø Home Alone
Ø Ovaltines candy
Ø Space Jam
Ø Night of the Living Dead
Ø Cindy Lauper, “Time After Time”
Ø Coney Island’s Sandwich ice cream
Ø Carebears
Ø Beverly Hills 90210
Ø Star rice
Ø Aqua, “Barbie Girl”
Ø New Kids on the Block
Ø U-2, “The Sweetest Thing”
Ø Undercut haircut
Ø Cedie
Ø Princess Sara
Ø Snake and Ladder
Ø Pogs
Ø Denis jacket
Ø Sustagen
Ø Sweet Valley series
Ø Club House crackers
Ø See, Oh See
Ø Suspender
Ø Fido Dido
Ø Benson Candy
Ø Hi-C juice
Ø Zwetzal no-tears shampoo
Ø Super Laughin’
Ø That’s Entertainment
Ø Flames

Dirg and Greg Sober (on one beer-drenched afternoon)

2006-02-07T10:00:00.000+08:00

(Dirg)
What makes a man a man?
to live in the norm of set standards?
or to deviate from the expected individuality?
Mediocrity we all are.

(Third)
We all succumb in being conventional,
to be original, profound, to be unique
thus we suffer in being deviated from humanity
We all are insecure.

(Dirg)
But it is with deviation can we identify our identity
To set ourselves from others
And to live with our personality
that recognized our long fought sanity.

(Third)
True, but our perspectives are veiled
by our worldly views
Our material goals hinder our creativity
The world restricts our greatness.

(Dirg)
Although we are part of the norms
It doesn't mean you belong
To try hard on something we are not
And to recognize beyond our own recognition.

(Third)
Idealism doesn't exist on the void by its own
just as thought over feeling, head over heart
Pathetic are those who give in
blessed be are those who think and believe.

(Dirg)
So what makes a man a man?
Is it with living in the judgement on what is not a real man
To feel the ridiculities others had
And live like what others lived?
But one thing for sure
Man can never be who he really is
He lives on what others set
And accept it even it oppossed his morality.

(Third)
(can't write no more, drunk.... puking all over....blech)

My Fair Malady

2006-01-16T17:18:00.000+08:00

Others may regard eyeglasses as one of those fashion accessories, but for me, it has become a necessity. When my ophthalmologist prescribed me to wear spectacles, I realized that I was living in a double-vision world. The first is my 5.45 and 5.50 eyesight, which has become my normal vision, and the other is my suppose-to-be 20-20 vision which I could enjoy when I put on my pair of glasses.
There are only two instances when I could experience the former vision, that is when I take a bath and go to sleep. Since I cannot often take my glasses off other than that, I have a clear view of my surroundings at most time. If I take it off, what I will see is only distant blurriness and dancing images. I cannot even recognize the faces of my classmates in my swimming class, thus, I ended the semester without even knowing them.
I was in fifth grade at that time. I sat three seats away from the blackboard at the farthest left side of the room. Without having an idea on how it started, the blackboard and those written on it became an obscure material for me. At that moment, I was scared to face the reality that there was something wrong with my eyesight and the thought that maybe someday it would eventually blind me. I am certain that the year before that, my vision were still perfect because even though I sat at the last seat at the back of the class, I could still read with clarity those written on the board.
I did not tell anyone about my poor eyesight, and because of that I tried alternative remedies with which I could perhaps regain what was starting to lose. I came up with an idea of covering my eyes with ice-cold towel, thinking that it would relax the nerves of my eyes and hopefully it would correct my eyesight. I also tried using eye drops with the assumption that there could just be some foreign particles covering my eyeballs and the eye drops could somehow cleanse it. I also discovered that fixing the slit of my eyes to smaller sizes would actually adjust my vision but I instantly stopped the idea as it really made me look ridiculous doing it. It didn't take long for me to realize that none of these were working and my vision continued to worsen.
Failing to cure my eyesight, I took another option. I once again formulated a hypothesis—if only i could know the causes of my nearsightedness, then probably I could prevent my eyesight from further damage. After all, prevention is better than cure. I did came up with two possible, yet very absurd, causes: masturbation and pornographic films.
I ridiculously adhered to the 19th century belief that masturbation could cause blindness and other eye disorders. This notion had long been rejected and was regarded as a total myth. But because I am desperate to do something with my diminishing vision, I took that fallacy to consideration.
As a result, I objectively abstained myself from performing my habit of excessive self-stimulation. I was at the verge of puberty and adolescent stage at that time, and restraining myself from the urge was a sure impossibility. So I crashed out masturbation on my list and finally deemed the idea as wholly unreal.
Then I proceeded to pornographic viewing. I usually obtained restricted movies from friends and classmates, and at the late hour of the night, I would discreetly watch it on TV. It was more of my conscience that made me include this habit into my list of alleged causes of sight impairment. Later, I rationalized that having a nearsighted condition could not possibly be the kind of divine punishment to be penalized on me.
With my failed attempts, I gave up my reckonings and was left with no other options but to tell my parents that I was nearing to possible blindness. I was brought to the ophthalmologist and had my eyes examined. The doctor explained that my eyes are too long from front to back and as a result, the corneal lens focus images of distant object in front of the retina, which causes me to have myopia or nearsightedness.
From that day onwards, my glasses became my priced possession because without it, I won't be able to recognize anything, even those that were just a couple of feet away from me. It literally lit my world after years of blurriness. Now, with my glasses on, people give me the first-impression of being serious and studious, but my glasses became a perfect disguise of my real personality.

The Nymphs of Malaybalay

2006-01-13T11:43:00.000+08:00

(Air)
From her old hammock
She breathe

Sending chill
To the placid dream.

(Fire)
From her blaze is
Born life

Conjuring magic
To the green nape.

(Earth)
From mountains of North
Linking South

West Wind
Kissing with the East.

(Water)
From her maelstrom rain
Lucid puddle

Sprouts rise
Reaching for the sky.

(Heaven)
From her calm sleep
Gods snore

The stars
Witness of no bounds.

(Mortals)
From her lone heart
A haven

Sole memento
To yearn for embrace.

Tempest of Drunkiness

2005-12-20T20:23:00.000+08:00

Even the drunk has a story to tell
The lost love and the lost pennies,
The broke heart to the empty hand
It goes on and on following a cliche of losing balance.

Every bottle is worth a mile
And a mile is worth the while.
The faces around you are blurry distances
Of long ago images never ceasing on memory.

You never really know them
And the words are aliens of lost allies
A gunshot to the gibberish time
And their words are the words you once had.

2005-12-12T14:50:00.000+08:00

Remember the words you used to stutter
The syntax that hardly come out from your sealed lips
The mumbling verses that you swallowed like a sumptuous meal.

Remember that beer you used to quenched
In that vicious nights when you were tipsy from dizziness
Knocking the bottles in that arena before the bell called for timeout.

Remember the wasted ink and the wasted paper
That ended in the mountain of rotten leaves and poetries
Decomposing your last attempt of quilting the patches of your trashes.

Remember the nights when you are alone
How darkness feasted on you but you fought fear
Spitting you whole and foisted with the foible of dry tears.

Remember this rainy night when you realize
That there is volition in the faltering of retention
There is poise between forgetting and rekindling the reverence of kept memories.

2005-12-07T18:30:00.000+08:00

for K

What you are in the boob tube is
all a single speck of light that
Illumine the static screen of your
Own blackout. Your eyes are of
lilies that dance on the
murky lake of convoluted
Tears. But the
same tears that resurrect the
Wounded from hibernating
in the asylum of self-doubt.
Your are driven by the tempest
Of introspection and what
they see on you is only a
nip of drifting iceberg
That one can never delve deeper
even on your
hour of fame.

2005-12-02T18:53:00.000+08:00

Funny how you teach others
To stand on firm ground
Teach them how to walk
And accompany them so that
They will not walk alone
But when they mastered it
They do more than walking

They simply run away.

EPITAPH

2005-11-28T19:06:00.000+08:00

Here lies the body...

He put injustice on words
And succumed lifetime toward
Subvertion.

He struggled for sanity
And embraced limitations for
Sublimity.

He took an early surrender
And embarked eternity from
Sublunary.

BLOOD~BR[OTHERS]

2005-11-26T16:08:00.000+08:00

Tell me my friend what have
Become between us. Perhaps
You can recall what similarites
we used to have that
Bound us together--
for I've already forgotten it.
Instead, what I can only see now
Are these differences that caused
This wall of partition
And as time goes it continued
to expand.

What had driven us to become
who we are--what we are
Perhaps you could start telling me
As I would contemplate upon all
my delusions--my deceptions
And remember who I really am.

The Familiar Poetry Before The Sun

2005-10-31T14:58:00.000+08:00

The constant rain
regularly pouring in a
rhythmic drops from heavenly
tears overshadowed by
darkness
covering the farthest it can reach
its familiarity to be likened
by own features
the constituents that comprise our being
familiar though but never fully
learned, never fully mastered
every streets of its every borough
what's behind it
and what lurks on its distant
corners--
untamed and resided by the unknown.

The rain sufficiently sustained what it has
from its inchoate existence
to the transcendence of its maturity
what towers on its boundaries
goes beyond what our eyes can see
the misty summit
of low hanging clouds
moving and changing at
usual paces
its shapes and dapples
of every hues the prism
can display
it is the exhibition of primitive
discernments and divinity
the knowledge of every epoch
that unfolds at every turns
and every falls.

The drizzle with gusty wind
or ghastly breeze
sweeping you as memory comes
rushing towards your face
sweeping with no escape from what you
left behind--it all came back as you
returned
avenging for your abandonment
what you knew is not enough
like the unpredictability of the rain
unnoticed it came with no
invitation
but bringing life to its scenery
of green and nervy
what nestled the newfangled
glory came plenary
after the storm.

Elegy of Beer Drunk Fraternity

2005-10-25T15:58:00.000+08:00

The bottle I firmly clutched on my hand
feeling the coldness
the wetness from the moist that formed
on the outside
i tilted it towards my mouth
feeling it run down to my throat
into the whole veins of my body
certainty of its reality
quenching the thirst of desire
what goes straight to your head
no longer comes out alcohol but
wisdom, as what Gelo said.
is it enough to recollect
to mull over the effect of intoxication,
the allegory of beer and pen
i took another shot
much more this time after I took toast
with my sole comrade
drenched from his own pool of vomit
in comparison with his own flood of angst
maybe I too had my share.

the world spun in the smoke-filled air
the music on the background, the dirge
of detachment from own soul
feeling the upbeat of its rhythm
my head getting heavy
together with the weight of what we
conversed
it’s a never ending spree
short time anticipation in search for
short time euphoria—
could it be much better than the short
time
climax, a brief experience to the gate of
nirvana
the impossible intention of ruthless
purpose
maybe there’s no profound purpose at all.

what transpired was beyond my
consciousness
i got it going,
unstoppable, merciless
vague it became but searched
for no answer, I still got it going
until my body can’t take it anymore
it rejected it as I drank it again
should I take it all out this time,
or should I not?
it will end soon—
eventually
tomorrow I’ll still be thirsty
but this time of purity,
the fluid of necessity
and some headaches perhaps
but for now, I need to finish the last
bottle
i’d take to let my thoughts control me
i am already helpless
you control me this time
maybe tomorrow I can still
remember everything—vividly,
and hopefully with no remorse.

Charmed in Siquijor Sojourn

2005-09-20T21:04:00.000+08:00

(A travel essay, submitted for Advance Composition Class)

Its eeriness heightens by the dark clouds overhead, covering its summit in haze, as I surveyed the bulk of stretching land bulging its outline on the horizon. The sun is merely rising and the sky is overcast with a hue of scarlet that enveloped behind the whirl of broken clouds. It seemed that at five in the morning, the sea is at rage. The pump boat I was in braved the crashing waves, spraying tangy sea water towards me, and the passenger’s survival was stubbornly dependent on its bamboo wings extending at its both sides. Aside from viewing with awe the panorama that beholds before me, I tried to battle my composure from possible nausea as the pump boat get the occasional sweep by the furious waves. On the other hand, sitting beside the window gave me that rare opportunity when I can witness the day starting to take shape, red and loose in its features.
Legends has it that when the Spaniards first spotted from their galleons the island of Siquijor, they were amazed by the peculiar specks of lights that seemed to illuminate the island, as if it was ablaze in fire. They later learned that the sparkling nocturnal scene came from the great swarms of fireflies that harbored in the numerous molave trees. They called the island “Isla del Fuego” or Island of Fire, referring to the glow the island gave at night as Spanish galleons passed by.
The multitude of fireflies has long been gone and its nickname as the Island of Fire was now shrouded by its current appellation as the “witchcraft capital of the Philippines.” That reputation has both brought a mark of uncanny and of sheer curiosity to the island, attracting sightseers on its shore to experience the mystery that resides within this white sand coastline. Being a paranormal aficionado, I came to Siquijor with two goals in mind—to personally affirm the reputation of primeval magic, and to survive a night unscratched and in one piece.
Being deprived of a chance to travel at my own fancy, it has been a long time since I last experienced the feeling of being a stranger in a new land. Upon my step on the soil of Siquijor, I once again experienced that longing. The sea was at low tide and there was a sign of drizzle, and before me was the outset for exploration—an almost certain assumption that I was feeling the same way as those long-ago Spaniards when they were first beckoned on this enchanting island.
The mystical aura lingered in the air and I have the whole day to unlock its enigmas.
The town of Siquijor, the capital of the province, is comfortably situated on hilly terrain. There is an occasional slope from one street to another, making the pedicab's engine roar more loudly than the usual, especially on those steeper roads. The town is laid-back, rural and still a long way for a metropolitan lifestyles, almost silent and has snugly remained at its state of sobriety. But then the town of Siquijor did not stand alone, in fact, all of the other five municipalities that comprise the island of Siquijor—Larena, Maria, Lazi, San Juan, and Villanueva—seemed to share the same characteristics.
I got a deal from a motorcycle driver to tour me around the island for P300. Consider it the best mean of transportation if you want to delve the bests of Siquijors treasures, that's if you don't mind the aches you'll get on you buttocks from the bumpy ride.
The Spanish dominance in the island is still evident and the century-old churches are there to prove its rich past. Siquijor, Siquijor is the home of St. Francis de Assisi, built in 1870, and not far is the bell tower which once served as watchtower for incoming marauders. Throughout the island, a number of 18th and 19th century churches, in their Greco-Roman architectures, are spread out. I had the chance to visit some of these churches; the church of Maria, and the St. Isidore Parish Church of Lazi, tracing their existence since 1880's. Lazi is also where the country's oldest and largest convent can be found, the Convent of St. Isidore with its haunting yet revering atmosphere. All of these monuments, with their thick walls made of sea stones or corals, have since confirmed the spiritual faith of the people that have remained solid through the aging time.
The six municipalities of Siquijor have an identity of its own, commonly recognized by its series of idyllic sceneries. The white-sand beaches, the calm blue waters, the shimmering coves, the rocky coasts, and the palm fringed shores have all served as its distinctions, fulfilling the desires of those who seek it. The Salagdoong Beach is a perfect getaway to unwind, lazing around its crystal clear water along the sharp rocky edges, and the splendid array of corral reefs that is teeming with marine life. I was spellbound by the solemnity of silence and was marveled by the mystique of the Cambuhagay falls where the only sounds that can be heard are the gentle gush of the water and the harmonious chirps of the birds, and they all seeped into my soul making me feel enchanted. When I was in San Juan, I stood by the ledge fronting the sea and as I extended my lookout to the distance, I saw to the west the mass of Dumaguete with the Cuernos de Negros standing tall, and to the south is the vague profile of Mindanao—bringing my consciousness into nostalgia as it reminds me of home.
Siquijor’s food specialty is torta. It is soft and sweet, delectably cake-like. A woman in San Juan, who claimed to make the best torta in the entire island, said that, “Our torta here in Siquijor tastes so good because we added magical ingredients in it.”
My sojourn to Siquijor would not be complete without a visit to the “witches' abode” in San Antonio. Consider it a risk to go there but it was something that I should not miss. Manong Roben, the motorcycle driver, directed me to the outskirt of Siquijor, to the high village where the narrow road is at the edge of the hill and rugged all along the way. Momentarily, the trees started to block the late afternoon sun and there was a sudden drop of temperature, sending an unlikely chill up to my spine as I was half-dreadful on what I was about to anticipate.
San Antonio and its next village, Cang-Asa, is said to be the residence of the local witch doctors and shamans—all willing to put a curse on their unwary victims at a certain amount. The mambabarangs, the mangkukulam, and the mananambals are primitive in existence, and their powers are passed within their bloodlines from one generation to the next.
One of the celebrated magicians in Siquijor is Vicente Tumala. Aside from being a healer, he is also said to have the power of making a paper doll dance with no strings attached. I reached his house with the intention of witnessing the said outre. Unfortunately, he wasn't around, and it took me more than two hours of waiting before I gave up and head back downtown, feeling dismayed and disappointed.
I may have failed to witness the magic that Siquijor is famous for but at the end of the day, it came to me that the real magic of Siquijor goes beyond the potions and spells. Rather it all resides within the Siquijoranons; their friendly smiles, their hospitality, their warm welcomes, and their great appreciation of life's simplicity. They are the people of contentment who value their heritage, who protect their resources, and who work hand-in-hand with each other for the betterment of their fellows. The people continue to dream big and never cease to hope, but still they are the people who are proud of who they are and of what they got.
During my merriment at night, my newfound drinking buddy, Reggie shared to me, “Why do I have to yearn for a city living when I can already find comfort here in Siquijor.”
If you go to Siquijor, do not expect of something big because part of the enchantment is the surprise it gave you that goes beyond your expectations. Siquijor is like the crone—the third persona of the ancient goddess—that is full of stories, myths, legends and folklores, and she's just waiting for her grandchildren to listen to her tales. Siquijor is a rendezvous of mysteries and explorations, and it is just there ready to welcome you with its enchantments.
Upon my return to Dumaguete, I cannot resist but to look back behind me. From the pier, there is Siquijor with dark clouds in the far distance—eerie, mysterious, mystical and enchanting.

Contemplations

2005-09-16T20:24:00.000+08:00

What power fear has that
brought a man into exile

Of his own self
To forcefully held blinded
on the reality that
Comprise him—though
Eyes wide open but just
fixed to an unseen distance
Covering himself on a dark
shroud of denial to avoid
having face-to-face with the
horror only truth has
We sin
And sin has no difference with
any goodness a saint possess
Our thoughts had it all and
In vain we are condemned
for our resistance to the
Evil that live on us.

KITCHIE NADAL: More Than Just a Rock Chick

2005-09-13T18:29:00.000+08:00

(As published by Metro Post, September 11, 2005)

By Dominique Cimafranca with interview by Lorraine Marie M. Evasco,
Marianne Catherine F. Tapales, and Rodrigo Bolivar

All of 25 years old, Kitchie Nadal is a genuine Filipino superstar in her own right. Starting out as a replacement lead singer for the popular Band Mojofly, Kitchie went solo after a brief hiatus to finish her studies. In short order, she caught the ear of the listening public with her single "'Wag na 'Wag Mong Sasabihin", theme song of the hit Koreanovela "Lovers in Paris." Kitchie cemented her place in modern Filipino alternative music with "Bulong" and "Same Ground."
Thus it was with great anticipation that local music fans awaited Kitchie Nadal's first concert in Dumaguete on September 3, 2005. Kitchie proved herself a true professional, attending to a local press conference, a radio interview, and a motorcade around our fair city despite a gruelling touring schedule.
But where Kitchie really shone was in her performance that night at the Macias Sports Coliseum with hundreds of fans in attendance. After the front act by local band Koo Fellas, Kitchie Nadal came on stage to thunderous applause belting out her latest hit, "Breathe."
Midway through the concert, the alternative rock diva issued an invitation for a fan to join her on stage to sing "Same Ground", an invitation that Silliman University nursing student Paula Jasette Anne Tumulak bravely
met, matching her idol note for note.
By "Ulan", the stadium was alit with cellphones swaying to Kitchie's beat. And by the last few numbers, Kitchie had come off stage to join her thronging fans, much to the chagrin of local security and her manager Roca Cruz. Fortunately, Dumaguetenos are a well-behaved bunch, and the singer was all smiles.
Who is Kitchie Nadal? What is the personality behind the rock-artist persona? Catch glimpse of her from her Dumaguete interview.

Q: When did you start singing?
Kitchie: I started singing professionally, 19 years old with another band.

Q: And how old are you now?
K: Twenty-four – and turning 25 this September 16. (Laughs).

Q: Prior to your professional singing career, what were you doing?
K: Ah, so you mean other hobbies? Before, I was into sports. If I have extra time, I paint. That’s what I love to do. And reading books. That’s pretty much it.

Q: How do you define your kind of music?
K: There’s a term called “Kitch pop.” I just learned that a couple of weeks ago. It’s like a fine line between -- how should I say this? -- it’s like pop music and “astig” music na parang “masa” music and then parang there’s an edge.
Roca: In between baduy and ano....
K: (Talking to Roca) If I’m gonna say that I’m gonna ruin my reputation.
K: Astig, that’s “Kitch pop.” (Laughs).

Q: Where do you find inspiration when you compose your songs or when you sing?
K: When it comes to song writing naman eh it’s just like any – I don’t know – for me, I treat it like any other job. Of course, it’s something that I really love to do but I don’t really look for an inspiration to write. Like you guys, a lot of you are writers, you know, hindi kayo masyadong dependent sa inspiration. Parang you just happen to be doing what you’re good at and you just do it. But it’s good also ‘coz there are times that we also get inspired and then write songs. ‘Yun.

Q: Haven’t heard about your love life. Do you have a boyfriend?
K: Wow, straightforward man! (Laughs). Ah, no, no, no. No love life.

Q: You don’t have a boyfriend, right? So, where do you get the creative impulse to write songs?
K: Well, I get inspired with, of course, the fans. And then -- well, what else, inspirations? -- well, as a Christian kasi, parang I think mostly talaga, I get inspired by my faith, my spiritual life. I believe that what we’re doing has a purpose, that’s what keeps me going.

Q: How about your musical influences?
K: Musical influences. It would be my Mom because she’s a classical pianist. I grew up singing for her all the time.

Q: You started off as a member of a band?
K: Yes, professionally, but ever since I can remember, I’ve been singing na.

Q: You mentioned earlier that you were in a band before and you left that band, Mojofly, in favor of your studies. Now that you’re back in the music scene, why did you choose to go solo?
K: Why? The reason why I left that band is because it’s so... well, it’s really a logistical nightmare because we work around four members. And then, we work around our schedules. For this band, since I’ve gone solo, uhmm.. we work around my school schedule. So that’s the difference. But I can’t say it’s easier because in a way, I almost do everything like musical direction and all that. I can’t say it’s also harder because it’s easier because at least now, parang there’s an understanding na, okay, we’re gonna work around my school schedule whether we like it or not. It has to be my priority.

Q: How often do you perform?
K: Now, four times a week. But there was a time na almost everyday. Now we’re reaching the end of our promotion of our album, so medyo, kumunti na siya.

Q: Have you gone overseas with your concerts?
K: We went to Japan and Canada.

Q: Well received?
K: Yes, yes, yes! They were very nice. Two great gigs. Unforgettable gigs.

Q: How do you handle your popularity nationwide and how has that changed your life?
K: It’s ano eh, it’s life changing. We grow up and then yung ano...ang interest mo... changes. Kasi before, I have this tendency to go out everywhere. I go to Palawan alone and then... But now, ‘yun nga lang I can’t do that anymore. I think ‘yun ‘yung pinakamahirap for me to let go. That freedom to go anywhere I want. Because in Manila like from my house to my school, I used to commute. Now I can’t.

Q: Where did you study?
K: I studied in De La Salle.

Q: You have a double degree in Psychology and Education. Do you have any plan to pursue a career in Psychology or Education in the future?
K: Some people think kasi that it’s a fall back. But actually, for me, no eh. Parang it conspires with what I do now. It helps me with my writing and because it’s education also. It’s about relationships also and you know with people. And it’s also my taking up Psychology as well. Parang nagco-conspire talaga siya not only with my writing and also my relationship with...'yun nga – people.

Q: You’re very popular in the music scene, a lot of people have you as their inspiration, how about you? Do you have a role model or someone you look up to?
K: I look up to a lot of people in my church. Our pastors and our pastors’ wives. (Laughs). Ayun, I’m pretty much...well, I make it a point kas, that there’s also a conscious effort na to make Jesus my role model.

Q: First time in dumaguete?
K: First time in dumaguete.

Q: One last question: how do you find Dumaguete?
K: well, you guys have good food. (Laughs).

Q: Thank you very much.
K: Welcome.

Reckoning Home

2005-09-06T16:04:00.000+08:00

Staring at the outline of the distant Cuernos de Negros mountains of Dumaguete from the Guy Hall building made me remember the same image I get to see every time I go out from our house for school. The difference maybe is that the ranges that I keep on gazing every time my mind drift when my teacher starts his discourse is that it is not the same as the pine-covered and foggy peaks that I get used to during the sixteen years span of my life. The mists that forms every time I breathe the cool breeze mixed with the early dew when I leave the house is some of the things that I am not sure of if I can still experience, as the sun where I am now seemed not to ran out of heat and you get your first perspiration the moment you step out of the dormitory, freshly bathed.

One of life’s inevitable natures is taking the instances that come when you have to leave behind what you dearly hold onto. The time will come when you realize that leaving behind is not anymore a matter of option but is becoming more of a necessity, as we all need to do a seeking on what we know will put us in a better position later on. The moment I graduated in High School was when I knew that I will soon depart from the old hammock I comfortable eased myself in and venture to a place where things can be new, and will even make me change the lifestyle I got used to. The only assurance I had this time is that when I return, the same faces will welcome me when I set out.
Everything started within this province where its name speaks so much of its topography. Its mountains are still inhabited by some of its natives—its original inhabitants before the new settlers dominate the lowlands and disrupt their primitive innocence. Bukidnon’s rich soil have made it possible for the affluent agricultural cultivations where majority of its lands still serve on that purpose.
Thinking of my homeland from my distant whereabouts made me remember my childhood. Childhood memories are coming back to me now like waves as I once again reconciled with my past, putting together all these flashbacks of events like piecing together jigsaw puzzles that scattered on the floor. I remember the time when my father and I would take an afternoon tour in our farm, watching my steps as I walked on the narrow strip of soil partitions on the rice field, carefully avoiding myself with concentration from tripping on the muddy tillage where rice seedlings are just sprouting. I remember my first climb on the hill and the feeling of victory and superiority upon reaching the apex, not minding the scratches from thorns along the way. I remember my first ride on a bicycle where some of my scars are still visible today but I considered it as a memorial of the momentous event.
The town I grew up into wasn’t as big as the city where I am now. However, that town is now called a city but not much radical change has been taking place since then. It retained its cool climate and crisp air that soothes the nostrils. The shadowy scene of Mount Kitanglad can still be seen on a fine day. The pineapples still grow on the landscape. The cows are still herded on the green pastures. The monks still harvest their coffees that divinely grew on the high altitude farmland. I knew the place then better than I did my own heart. It was not in my soul then, only in my pores, and as familiar to me as the rain or the sunlight. We lived and died by nature and followed the whims of the timeless clouds. The people continue to hope and momentarily moved from here to there and change things one at a time.
Malaybalay was there to witness my existence, the same way as a mother witnessing her child’s transition from birth to maturity—the metamorphosis for transcendence. It was the place who taught me how to perceive life, how to value friendship and love, and how to appreciate simplicity. And it was the place that led me to discover the passions that brought me to where I am now, and the risks that I must take for the search of happiness.

When you’re away from home, you will always be longing for the day to come when you can come back. Your memories will serve as your sole tool to repose your longings. We may take remorse for our departure but it is through leaving can we know that there is someone waiting for our return. Memories are not anymore a matter of fate, rather it is a matter of choice as it is us who choose which of our experiences are worthy for remembrance. We create events in our lives and we live by it, each moment is an instantaneity of reflection and we reminisce with nostalgic sentiments.