it's that little souvenir of a terrible year that makes my eyes feel sore

Gagayahin ko na rin ang ginawa ni suyin.

Wala na sigurong pinaka-self-centered na paraan para sarhan ang nakaraang taon kundi sa paglilista ng mga tinamasang biyayang kultural (re: cultural capital). Wala naman kasi akong naging achievement sa taong ito kaya sa ganitong paraan ko na lang gustong alalahanin ang patapos na 2007.

Hindi bago ang mga inilista ko pero ito 'yung mga bagay na na-experience ko noong 2007 na lubha kong nagustuhan. Nais kong magsimula sa mga pelikulang lubos na kumain ng panahon (at sweldo) ko:

1. Kung Mangarap Ka’t Magising – Mike De Leon
2. Science of Sleep – Michel Gondry
3. Children of Men – Alfonso Cuaron
4. Waking Life – Richard Linklater
5. Infernal Affairs II – Andrew Lau and Alan Mak
6. The History Boys – Nicholas Hytner
7. Pan’s Labyrinth – Guillermo del Toro
8. subUrbia – Richard Linklater
9. Dogville – Lars Von Trier
10. Pisay – Aureaus Solito
11. Mulholland Dr. - David Lynch
    
12. High Fidelity – Stephen Frears
13. Manwal sa Paggawa ng Pelikula – Karl Castro (harharhar)
    

Itinuturing kong bestfriend si Walt, ang aking maasahang mp4 player from Raon. Ilang earphones/headphones na ang nagdaan, pero nanatili pa ring kasakasama ko si walt saanman ako magpunta. Ito ang ilan sa mga pinakagasgas kong tracks sa loob ng nagdaang 2007 habang sakay ng lrt papuntang betty go, ng HM bus papuntang LB, ng Victory liner papuntang tuguegarao, at ng fx byaheng megamall.

1. Rosemary – Suzanne Vega
2. I’ll follow you into the dark – Death Cab for Cutie
3. Mexico - Cake
4. Can’t be sure – The Sundays
5. Cuscatlan – Frente!
6. Ludlow Street – Suzanne Vega
7. Small Blue Thing – Suzanne Vega
8. The Flowers – Regina Spektor
9. How to Disappear Completely – Radiohead
10. Bewitched – Rufus Wainwright
11. Set the fire to the third bar – Snow Patrol (feat. Martha Wainwright)
12. Stop this Train – John Mayer
13. Best of Me – Unknown (akala ko dati si jeff buckle yang kumanta)
14. Sunday Bloody Sunday – U2 (oh yes, eleyn!)
15. Because the night – 10,000 Maniacs
    

Tanging The Hours ni Michael Cunningham, Cubao Midnight Express ni Tony Perez at Written on the Body ni Jeanette Winterson ang natapos kong basahin ngayong taon. May Ilang kwento pa sa Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman ni Murakami ang hindi ko pa natatapos. Perenyal kong sinisimulang basahin ang mga sumusunod: Mysteries of Pittsburg (Chabon), Eleanor Rigby (Coupland), Murder Room (PD James), The Passion at Powerbook (Winterson), at Mrs. Dalloway (Virginia Woolf). For that, mahaba ang reading list ko sa 2008, kasama na ang mga hindi pa nabubuklat na librong hiniram at binili sa thrift shops.

Gusto kong magpasalamat sa mga taong pinanggalingan ng mga cultural capital na ito: kina caloy, eleyn, jeeu, k, karl at suyin. hindi sana kayo magsawa sa pagpapaambon ng mga biyaya na inyong tinatamasa. Hanggang sa mga susunod pang taon. Hehehe.

i was thinking i could clean up for christmas

River
Joni Mitchell

It's coming on Christmas
They're cutting down trees
They're putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
But it don't snow here
It stays pretty green
I'm going to make a lot of money
Then I'm going to quit this crazy scene
I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I wish I had a river so long
I would teach my feet to fly
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I made my baby cry

He tried hard to help me
You know, he put me at ease
And he loved me so naughty
Made me weak in the knees
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I'm so hard to handle
I'm selfish and I'm sad
Now I've gone and lost the best baby
That I ever had
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I wish I had a river so long
I would teach my feet to fly
Oh I wish I had a river
I could skate away on
I made my baby say goodbye

It's coming on Christmas
They're cutting down trees
They're putting up reindeer
And singing songs of joy and peace
I wish I had a river
I could skate away on

mga manunulat ng kanilang panahon

"Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light."
-Dylan Thomas, Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

kina Sir Nick at Sir Rene, maraming salamat.

---

Tatlong Tula ni Monico Atienza

KAIBIGAN XIV

Bawat salita’t panalita
ay may teorya, maiteteorya;
maipaliliwanag, malilinaw,
ibig sabihin.
Pagtulang biseral o serebral,
meron din; di nakakaiwas
pati paglulubid ng buhangin.
Pagkapayaso ko’t tangkang tulain
sa silong teorya’y salikop din;
kundi nga, di na ta konsistent.
Salita’t panalitang nakararami,
di dapat pigilin dapat alamin;
mapaglimi, usisain.
Sila ma’y may sasabihin,
sinabi na nga—maging
ang pinakamunti, pinakamangmang.

Pigilin ang teorya’t pinatay mo sila.

29.VII.93

KAIBIGAN XV

May salita ang maliit at mangmang,
di lamang sa DESIDERATA—
sa totoo at lipunan man,
maniwala ka Kaibigan.

Mas madalas ay may puntirya,
nakaangklang kamalayan,
minumunti man, minamangmang.

May teorya nga’t pagteteoryang
tuntunga’y riyalidad,
bumabago at nagbabago
sa praktika ng buhay,
produksyon at pakikitalad;
di nga pormal dahil di akademiko,
di “panlibro” dahil panalita.
Ng kontekstong karanasang
sapupunan ng pagwika.

Ang sa aki’y panagimpan,
sa payasong paninimbang—
pagpilosopo ng mangmang.

29.VII.93

KAIBIGAN XXIX

Batas-buhay ang sigalot,
mula maliit tungong malaki
ng daigdig at lipunan:
wika mo nga kay Ibarra—
may nais ding pagbabago,
sistemang walang galit
bawat isa’y nasisiyahan;
Iyong mawiwika: ng langit sa lupa.

Di nagbait ang lipunan,
walang patid ang pagtugis
sa repormang ninanais.
hanggang dulo kung magngalit;
Walang pintong di pininid,
mga sinta’y pinagsakit;
hinati ang mga ina
mga ama’y pinipilan;
Kalupaa’y di naglangit
sa susog ng panaginip;
paghahari’y nagpatuloy.

Kalaguyo ang sigalot.

(kinuha mula sa pinoyweekly.org)

---

Tagulaylay ng Republika
(Sa SONA 2006)
Rene O. Villanueva

Bawat singasing ay lagim ang hatid ng motorsiklo –
Bawat sibad: luksang-lambong sa dinahas na panimdim!
Bawat ungol ng makina ay halakhak ng salarin
Ng estadong kumukutya sa konsensiyang tumututol
Sa kawalang katarungan, kalayaang isinangla.
Itong baya’y walang habas, walang awa kung gahisin!
Ayy!
Ilang buhay pa ang dapat ibuwis ng mamamayan?
Ilang hibla ng hininga ang dagliang puputulin?
Ilang murang pangarap pa’ng papaslangin nang pataksil?
Ilang dugo ang dadanak? Ilang ulit kukutyain
Ang daing ng abang bayang walang awa kung paslangin?
Ayy! Ayy!
Bawat haginit ng punglo’y malupit na kamatayan;
Bawat sibad na palayo, nakatakas na kriminal;
Bawat taksil na harurot – pagtakas ng motorsiklo;
Bagong utang nitong buktot na gobyerno ni Arroyo!
Panibagong kasalanan sa lugaming taong-bayan,
H’wag na h’wag lilimutin: Magbabayad ang may utang!
AY! AY! AY!
Pahirin na ang panimdim: dalamhati ay tiklupin.
Di luha ang magbabangon sa pinaslang nang pataksil.
Hindi panimdim ang tugon ng nabalo’t naulila –
Kundi suklam, galit, poot: nagpupuyos, maniningil.
Lahat tayo ay tumindig at marilag na usigin;
Buktot-taksil, pagbayarin! Araw na ng paniningil!
Ay! Ay! Ay! Ayy!

Mula sa “Subverso”, Mga Tula at Kuwento Laban sa Politikal na Pandarahas, publikasyong iglap ng CONTEND-UP

walang isinukong laban

“Whenever death may surprise us, let it be welcome if our battle cry has reached even one receptive ear and another hand reaches out to take up our arms.”

- Che Guevara

Magpapasko rin noong nakaraang taon nang humahangos kaming sumugod ni B sa PGH para dalawin siya. Kahahatid pa lang ng ambulansya kay Sir Nick galing sa unang ospital na pinagdalhan sa kanya. Hindi pa siya naaadmit sa ospital kaya hindi pa siya nakakabitan ng aparato. Salit-salit ang mga dumalaw sa kanyang unyonista, guro at estudyante sa pagbomba ng hangin sa kanyang baga para makatulong sa paghinga niya. Sa oras na iyon, kahit bisperas ng pasko, hindi ko magawang magsaya. Umuwi ako sa aming iniisip pa rin siya. Pakiramdam ko kasi hindi na magtatagal si Sir Nick.

Pero lumipas ang mga araw, linggo at buwan, tila ba mahigpit pa rin ang kapit ni Sir Nick sa buhay. Tila ba itong huling laban niya ay hindi rin niya magawang isuko katulad ng marami pang laban na kanyang sinuong. Hindi siya yumukod sa gitna ng Sigwa ng Unang Kwarto. Hindi siya natinag ng diktadura ni Marcos. Hindi siya naigupo ng tortyur at pagkakakulong. Hindi siya napatumba ng ambush.

Pero mahirap kalabanin ang panahon. Pero nagawa ni Sir Nick. Pero hanggang saan lang ba kayang ilaban ng mortal ang kanyang buhay? Lumisan siyang hindi isinusuko ang anumang laban. Hindi malilimot ang mga alaala, aral at labang iniwan ninyo sa amin.

Salamat Sir Monico Atienza. Propesor. Manunulat. Aktibista. Rebolusyonaryo.

---

Lifewatch
by Edel Garcellano

(for Monico Atienza)

I

A day before Christmas
& he lies comatose
at Mary Chiles.
Is it a way of forgetting
how long he has waged
war against the empire,
or the body now refuses
what the mind perseveres?
He doesn’t even know
he’s taking a long nap -
Something probably
he has dreamed of
after all those exhausting years.
His friends keep vigil.
That’s all they can do.
If only the gates of the universe
will open & disgorge
angels to tell them
the real score.
But his circle is used to waiting:
A revolution is a handiwork
of patience.
It will go on without Nick.
But it’s impossible to imagine
the future without him.

II

He is not your kind of poet.
His language smells
of the elemental earth,
wind & fire
& harvest of fruit trees
by men & women huddled
at the edge of the land
talking of the coming of the rain.
He knows the city
like the palm of his hands
but he wouldn’t text
of the dark alleys
& the secret meetings
of angry hearts
who defy the state holocaust…
He doesn’t have to write his poems,
really.
He lives them anyway.
He is not your kind of poet.

III

Too light is the crown
on the heads
of young bucks
who croon about their secret pains;
too cheap is the applause
of state lackeys that grates their ears;
& too brittle
are the plaques that adorn their walls.
Poetry takes a long, long time.
Like life itself.
A neat lesson for those
who claim the title
so quickly, so easily.

IV

He has an eye for beauty,
of course
but he would quip about it
in a low voice
as if such were a difficult struggle…
He would laugh,
as though to rub an aching bone
of impossible desires.
Does he know the limits
of his passion?
But his persistence
to change the order of things
envelopes all.

V

The prognosis is grim:
The damage is extensive;
he’ll be a vegetable
if he survives.
She assures that a fund drive
would be initiated by comrades & friends…
Yes, it’s flailing at the moon.
If God is history
there must be something about it
that escapes our mortal reasoning.

VI

The rememberers
who turn tears into guns
& words into a hand
over our hearts
dare not utter
a word of comfort nor pain:
Silence is all
before so much grief.

VII

How does one weigh a life?
“As heavy as a mountain,
as light as a feather?”
The state will not honor him.
The imperialists & fascists
will shrug their shoulders.
The academe will sigh in relief.
His friends will huddle in a corner
thinking among themselves
how brief is life
when nights are long
& sleep does not come.

VIII

He stirs from his deep sleep,
as though the waves
that carry him floating on the river Lethe
inside his head
have tickled his ears.
But he’s not listening.
The Gods are merciful.

IX

(Nexus)

He explains,
as though before a jury,
why he couldn’t make it
to Mary Chiles:
“It is not,” he avers,”so much
the fear of setting foot
at the hospital
where he would smell the strange
eucalyptus fragrance
of death
as the terror that he couldn’t handle
seeing him
at his most vulnerable:”
O Schodenfreude!

He missed his father’s
death throes by a few hours.
But probably it was by some crazy design:
He sees him still very much alive
in his mind.
The illusion must persist.