On: Local Theatre

This previous weekend, I watched a play festival in CAP Art Center that featured four well known short plays: A Cebuano adaptation of Orlando Nadres' Hanggang Dito na lang at Maraming Salamat (Dinhi na Lang Kutob Ug Daghang Salamat), Angry Jurors, an adaptation of Wade Bradford's 12 Angry Pigs; Amador Daguio's short story The Wedding Dance adapted for the stage, and May Trabaho Na Po Ako, Inay!, a Tagalog adaptation of T. James Belich's Look Mom, I Got A Job!

The play festival was, at most, entertaining. However, the discussion that the program sparked between my friend Manna and me was more interesting.

If there is one good thing about all this, it is that productions that sprout sporadically within a year provide local theatre enthusiasts a chance to do hands-on theatre work. It certainly does not equal formal training, but it's better than nothing for us here. Then again, the theatre scene has been, for the longest time, stuck in a fluctuating cycle of activeness and quiet, and this we owe much to the fact that there is no established theatre school in this province because there is no local industry that will utilize this pool of talent. Until that happens -- until we do something -- we can only go DIY. I can forgive then the apparent lack of experience of many of the actors in the production (Sisa-ish acting -- I could not comprehend the inappropriate smiling amidst the screaming), or the almost successful adaptation of 12 Angry Pigs if not for some lines that led to the ambivalence and inconsistency of the Snake's character, or the bad choice in theatre house music.

The non-existence of theatre schools is also partly the reason for what we wrongly tag as "bad audiences." (and I would like to attribute this discussion to my friend Alex U.). Other than that, production outfits and schools are partly to blame.

The program began with incessant reminders on the proper behavior required in theatre. No cell phones, no eating, no walking around, no screaming, no, no, no as if your grandmother ascended from Hades with a ruler in hand.

What we fail to understand is that a deeper understanding of theatre will manifest in the willingness of an audience to pay for a performance and to observe proper theatre etiquette (provided of course that the performance is of high caliber). We know there is deeper understanding when they give value to a performance.

Moreso, we fail to understand that nagging instructions at audiences before a show starts in a town whose general market has little interest in theatre – and even less understanding of it – is ineffective.

Despite the instructions, last Sunday's audience remained rowdy and were incapable of understanding the subtexts in many emotional lines that, as a result thereof, went to waste.

Requiring students who do not earn their own income to watch plays at a price for a required reaction paper has failed to inculcate a genuine appreciation and respect for theatre, as evidenced by the lack of improvement in young audiences. Coercion causes students to drag their feet to theatre houses close-minded and resistant to what they could learn from suspending their disbelief for a few hours.

Time and again, we've failed to learn from this.

Of course, production outfits want to ensure a return of their investment. Other than sponsorships, the easiest resort is to ensure a large audience turnout – thus the students. But this does not do much to help further the cause of theatre in Cebu. It does little to help educate people. This is a huge contradiction to claims of promoting theatre. Apparently, forcing something on audiences is not the best way to introduce something.

It isn't hard to figure out that one must pick an audience -- regardless of its size -- that is willing to understand and learn, in order to create enriching experiences for both actors and audience, with or without a reaction paper. It is even easier to figure out that to create good theatre experience, one must first insure quality. It is harder work, yes, but if people truly wanted to help forward the cause of theatre, we should be willing to do the rut work.

Rage Against the Petty

Of all the things that Rep. Cutie del Mar could speak of in her privilege speech, she had to demand an apology from Gloria Diaz for the latter's remark wherein she used Cebuanos as an example.

I no longer care about rationalizing what Gloria Diaz said, but I do care about how the people think.

AND FROM WHERE I SIT, IT'S LOOKING MORONIC.

A Cebuana...kan hardleh ispik Inglis

Matod pa sa akong amigo, ang atong "subconcious" mugamit gyud sa pinulonga'ng atong gidak-an.

Mas sayon tuod mustorya og Bisaya kung bisaya ka, hiligaynon kung Ilonggo o taga-Bacolod ba kaha ha. Butang ta, sa pageant, mas dali ang paghuna huna og tarong nga tubag kung mugamit ang contestant sa iyang pinulungan kay dili na kingahanglan muhubad ang utok. Di pud lalim mag Ininglis pa ka nga nag bra ra ka'g panty, nag heels pa gyud, gibantayan sa tibuok Universe. Ikaw kuno beh.

Bag-uhay lang, si Gloria Diaz gihimo'ng "dart board" sa mga insulto tungod sa iyang pakighinabi sa ABS-CBN mahitungod sa pag gamit og magbabadbad sa mga internasyunal nga beauty pageant. Daghan Cebauano ang nainsulto sa iyang giingon nga: "If you think of a Cebuana...can hardly speak in English," dapat kuno sugtan siya'ng mugamit sa iyang kaugalingong pinulungan.

Nasayop lang man tingali ta'g sabot sa iyang giingon. Dili pud kaayo maayong mu-Ininglis si Gloria Diaz, kay kung imong tan-awn, mura'g mao kini ang iyang buot ipasabot: "If you think of a Cebuano [who] can hardly speak in English." Kuwang tingali'g relative pronoun nga "who". Dili pud tingali siya bogo nga maghuna-huna nga tanang Cebuana, di kamao mag Ininglis.

OA ra kaayo ta uy. Mas maayo tingali'g ipalabay na lang ni nato ug mubalik ta sa iyang buot ipaabot nga mensahe: Ok ra kung di ka mag-Ininglis, o kun di pud ka kama-ong mag Ininglis; ug maayo pud nga ikapasigarbo nato ang pinulungan sa atong mga ginikanan. (Gawas kung English Major ka'ng nagbandera sa imong diploma apan imong mga subject og verb nagsabong lang gihapon bisa'g gradwet na ka. Kana, dapat ka mauwaw amawa ka.)

Dugang pa niana (kay Agosto pa man samtang gi-suwat ko kini), Buwan ng Wika baya ron Agosto.

Apan kadaghanan gihapon nato, di gyud mutudlo sa ilang anak og Binisaya. Maghuwat lang nga makat-on sila sa skwelahan. Inig abot sa balay, pila'y pusta, ang itagbo sa ilang mga anak kay "Give mommy a kiiiiiis!!!!" Unya, Cebuano man kuno ka?

Asa'y mas makauwaw, Cebuano'ng di kamao mu-Ininglis, o Cebuano'ng di kamao mubinisaya? Sige beh.

Duna'y mga nangasuko sa gisulti ni Gloria Diaz, tingali di sila ganahan maingnan og bogo. Dapat natong timan-an, dili sukdanan sa ka-brayt ang imong abilidad sa pag Ininglis. Intawn, may na lang na'ng maayong magbinisaya nga utokan, kay sa mag sige'g ininglis nga wa'y unod ang gipangyawyaw. Nagkaanam ra ba'g lunop ang mga tawng ing-ana aning lungsora. Pastilan.

Ug kon ingnan ka'ng di ka kamao mo-ininglis, kinahanglan ba gyud ta'ng mauwaw? Wa man lagi mauwaw ang mga Hapon.

On: Corporate Hypocrisy

Bah. Humbug. Christmas season is just a big marketing and advertising ploy.

An officemate had good intentions when she planned to celebrate her birthday, along with other workmates, in a home for the aged. Upon asking permission to use their lunch break (which was, in the first place, rightfully theirs anyway) for the said activity, they were instructed to wear company shirts, and to take pictures of whatever transpires in the event.

During Christmas season some years prior, amidst discussions of fulfilling part of the company's corporate social responsibility, one supervisor was about to suggest giving something more substantial other than lugaw. She was then cut off in mid sentence by a department manager who exclaimed in enthusiasm at the brilliance of the idea that, yes, indeed, they should donate something more useful, like shirts with the company logos printed on them.

The dismayed supervisor, who was initially thinking of school supplies for poor kids, was dumbfounded at the display of stupidity and opportunism.

Same dismayed supervisor related to me one day about a personal experience with a local organization geared towards "creating better communities and societies" -- almost every outreach event was rife with cam-whoring. Too, the media was almost always present to tell the tale, and this was obviously not solely to encourage outsiders to do their part by joining the projects.

It is true that on a larger scale, this system allows for help to be given to the needy lot; but what most positive thinkers miss to consider is that these big corporations have more to gain than to give, which completely annihilates the "spirit of Christmas" that these organizations preach about in their newsletters.

These companies reeking of insincerity also breed a similar attitude amongst its employees making it, dangerously, second nature for these individuals. Exhibit A: Department manager mentioned earlier. Many of these organizations operate with the kindergarten-ish reward-and-punishment system disguised in corporate terms: employee motivation, sanctions, whatever. Now, because the company approves of being pro-active in grabbing opportunities, one creates a good image of oneself when one can display a practice of which corporate executives approve. Pogi points for the employee that, of course, translates to rewards. And like our Exhibit A, many times principles, ethics, good intentions are compromised.

Corporate hypocrisy is not something that occurs in small instances like these. They occur in alarmingly larger proportions. Classic Exempli Gratia: McDonald's. We are aware of the tiny donation boxes on their counters for their charities, but that should not make us forgive other larger faults that this corporation has refused to answer countless times in the commentaries or information campaigns made against them with regards to corporate ethics, or in documentaries like "Supersize Me." And they have to gall to file libel cases against these little people. But with power and money easily available to them, they can also easily discredit their detractors, obscure the truth and continue to shape the consumption attitude of its market, and there you go off to buy yet another McDonald's meal made of fat, genetically modified and synthetic food sources, feeding the pockets of the big wigs and contributing to global warming (that's another story). And you gripe about your belly fat? Come on.

Grumbling about these incidences during a fifteen minute break, another officemate nonchalantly replied that there's little or nothing that one can do about this system; he then gave me a condescending I-know-so-because-I'd-been-there-done-that-and-I'm-older-than-you-are look.

True to some extent that there is little that can be done to change this culture of greed, but it is also this kind of jaded apathy that allows it to flourish and to take advantage of the less fortunate. Or of employees celebrating their birthdays and who simply have good hearts.

Then again, really, what can be done about it?

I won't pretend to have answers; I'm neither moneyed, nor powerful, and none of my connections are. But isn't this something we can start thinking about at least? At least before you participate in your "corporate social responsibility" activities, think about saying "no" to this kind of abuse. Think about it.

Here's To The Dead

We remember the dead for the good they brought to the world.

Yesterday, Mr. Ralph Cecilio, our senior high school English teacher fondly called "Papa Lap", succumbed to lung cancer a couple of hours after midnight. He once exclaimed to his students, with his usual infectious enthusiasm, that he was going to be "the best god damned teacher you'll ever meet!"

Unless some other equally brilliant academician bagged the best-god-damned-teacher-you'll-ever-meet award, I think I am right in saying he made a self-fulfilling prophecy. For most of us who have gone under his instruction, he left still bagging that award uncontested.

Monday last week, some 57 people died in Ampatuan, Maguindanao, in among the most heinous of crimes to humanity. Friends, families and loves of these 57 people weep for their losses, while the country weeps for the injustice, crying "foul."

But during funerals, we remember the dead as more than the fun-loving, life-loving people that they were; more so, for the good they brought to the world.

We remember how we were taught that solving crossword puzzles not only enhances vocabulary, but that it can help shape our manners of expression. That one can travel through books. That there are wonders to be discovered in reading voraciously. Through Macbeth and Hamlet and a host of other stories, sonnets and poetry, our young, naïve minds were introduced to the happiness, sorrows, strengths and frailties, even the bestiality of the humans that we are. We remember when we were first taught both the joy and the importance of engaging in any meaningful, and substantial form of discourse.

Because, to borrow concepts from Lourd de Veyra, engaging in discourse online or otherwise helps shape the sensibilities of people. For instance, in light of recent events, sharing opinions and facts help people understand, and discard misconceptions; it teaches us to speak out clearly and demand what is due us – justice, and protection for the citizens of this country, whether or not the sanguineous perpetrators are government allies. As for dealing with sorrow, words can heal.

We remember that there are people who still have faith in social, or political change despite living in systems deemed corrupted and hopeless; that there is still reason for even the disillusioned to bank on that same hope. That, like crossword puzzles, we have every reason not to leave holes gaping at the sky without answers. We remember that the written word can be armor; and that, if a million strong can speak collectively, words can spur people into productive action.

So, this is how I commemorate my teacher – I write. In return, this too is how I can commemorate those who were martyred in Mindanao. I write. For any cause I might take up in the future – literary, social, political – I will write. And if I should get any chance to help mold the minds of others as Mr. Cecilio did, I will. So I write.

Here's to the 57 or so who did not lose faith in democracy. And here's to the best god damned teacher I've ever met.

Babala sa mga tatawag sa mga opisinang pang gobyerno

Sa mga kailangang tumawag sa mga Opisinang pang gobyerno, mag-handa... ng napakahabang pasensya at oras.

Kung kunwari kayo ay may kailangan sa, e.g. TESDA, o di ba kaya sa PESO office, at pinatatawag uli kayo ng e.g. alas nuwebe ng umaga, magsimula nang mag-dial simula alas siyete pa lamang, para magulantang na sila pagbukas ng pinto at first-call-first-served ka naman. May mga theory sa likod ng sitwasyong ito:

1) malamang, inip na inip na ang tamad na mga opisyal na ito na ang agang nanananghali-an, at ang tagal kung bumalik, at biglang lumiliksi pagsapit ng alas singko, kung kaya naman pinagti-tripan nila ang mga taong tumatawag sa kanila: para kang basketbol na ipinapasa-pasa sa iba't ibang numero at opisina hanggat sa umabot ka uli sa pinakaunang taong kinausap mo kanina.

2) dahil walang tao sa opisina dahil nga nanananghali-an pa sila, limang taon pa bago ka sagutin.

3) walang pera sa gobyerno dahil kinukupit ng kung sinu-sinong opisyales na naghahain na naman ng sangkatutak na kasinungalingan ngayong malapit na ang eleksyon, kung kaya ang mga empleyadong ito ay naging hardworking: mahirap pagtrabahuin. Masusungit pa.

Carlo J. Caparas said...

(From GMA News)

Caparas also lashed back at National Artist for Literature Bienvenido Lumbera, who he said he lauded in 2006. "Ngayon naman ako ang mahirang, di siya (Lumbera) pumapalakpak, kundi pumuputak (Now that I’m the one who was awarded, he is yakking instead of clapping)," Caparas said.


...because, you artistically-handicapped nincompoop, it's not about returning favors.

Angst: TV

that our TV is littered with mongrels who are better off not meddling with skills that,obviously, they otherwise have no right to deal with

that truly skilled ones have to eat shit first, or not get anywhere at all

that some celebrities out there have neither the heart nor the guts to speak back at gossip-mongers because their lives are at the mercy of these snake-tongued fiends.

that these gossip-mongers have peso signs in their eyes everywhere they go and whatever they do.

that there isn't anything worth listening to from these gossip-mongers

And yet people watch The Buzz

that we are a backward country because the TV teaches us to listen to our hearts, while they use their brains to pocket millions at the expense of this stupidity

that even lousy politicians make blatant lies with TV promotions, that they do their jobs despite millions unseen, unidentified, dead, locked away; despite international scolding they claim success for hard work

that politicians use love and sympathy and people's idiocy as bullets for their guns.

that Kris Aquino has disgraced her father

that the Filipino people are no longer worth dying for

because we're not even sure where the taxes of Kris Aquino, top tax-paying citizen, are going to

because the Filipino people are all about Wowowee and vagrancy, whitening and fear of brown skin, all heart and no brain (especially if Erap wins again), divided, divided, for shame, divided, apes in Beyoncé and Rihanna costumes, hollow heads in lipstick and perfume, and you can add up to this angsty list unless you are one of them too.

Of Puzzles

Part of my routine after pushing the office door and depositing my things in my work station is to fix a cup of coffee and grab the daily. And then, weilding a pen, I bow my head for the 8 o'clock habit.

I buy the dailies for one reason: the only things appealing to me in the dailies these days are the crosswords and sudoku puzzles in the entertainment section. There's a certain simple joy in filling the boxes with the correct letters and numbers: that what was a problem previously is now solved by your doing.

The news in the city, in the the capital and abroad are the added bonus I get that allow me to play informed smart-ass among the irregular newspaper-readers at work. But that also means that the randomness of my newspaper-reading habits fill me with generalities.

Today though, I decided to flip to neighboring sections before proceeding to answer the number game.

Story number 1 was of a man who entered the afterlife after having an argument with his girlfriend. According to news, girl did not allow boy friend to join an outing she was attending with former classmates. Thus, the noose.

Story number 2 is of another man who kills himself after having been left by his wife,who brought along with her their kids. The latter packed up after having been hit by the husband while engaged in an argument.

Apparently, trends also tend to happen with crimes. Consider the latest hyped story of the murdered call center agent, and that of the MEZ employee, both of which happened a week apart. Both deaths also resulted from texting.

And what's the count on females who were butchered, and whose parts were wrapped in garbage bags and carelessly disposed in various areas?

Or the drive-by killings, many cases of which remain as jigsaw puzzles with missing pieces.

Daily, at least one dies by someone's wrath or one's own will. Suspects are shown in technicolor, most of them remorseful for their acts. To the reasonable and functional, it is very puzzling how repercussions never occurred to them -- all that time they put to waste by going stale in prison.

As for political bickering -- I do not touch the stuff as I am not an expert, unless I am up for teleserye-ic following of the developments on the pingpong of rebuttals and retorts. It's muddy enough in the mush of truths and lies in their arena; very unappealing to the random daily-reader like me.

These stories neatly laid out on newspaper pages provide us our daily dose of confusion. Despite the distance we maintain, the more one reads the more one becomes concerned. Paranoid. Angry. The rabble-rabble of people's opinions do not provide enough explanations to fill in the large hole that is "WHY". It makes one think that the Filipino people are up to their ears in their own shit. And as these stories pile up day after day, they become mundane and one tires of the befuddlement.

I flip back to my sudoku to refocus my brain.

Those who do not keep abreast with the latest crimes and current events choose to do just that because there's enough disorder to think about in their own spheres.

Other modern-day Houdinis escape news of the city's atrocities by answering games answerable by logic.

We opt for the crossword, or the sudoku, because unlike reasons for the heinous and the atrocious, the blank holes in the puzzles do not gape at you without answers.

January Update: Emotional Inventory

I have denied myself the luxury of screaming amidst the din of netizens who scream to be heard all at the same time; so it's either I shut up or scream along -- in a few hours or two days this blog post won't matter anyway (and not many of you read my blog anyway).

The greater part of this month was spent giving normalcy a go.

I hired myself a distraction from things that spell alone.

Movie houses, sea side restaurants and dreamy star-littered skies for dates.

More importantly, they were proper scheduled dates, and I can safely declare I've experienced that kind.

Home improvement projects (though not too much -- I only rent that shoebox of a room, which means I'm not staying there forever)

Interviewing applicants with feigned enthusiasm but enthusiasm nonetheless.

Getting drunk with officemates and dancing to togsh-togsh-togsh music.

Enjoying applause from acquaintances for this normalcy -- or at least to safely say, as I'm sure the "What's-normal-anyway?" question will pop in your heads, applause for these commonly accepted behaviors.


After all these, my emotions refuse the compromise. Forced normal routine consequently has made my writing ability retreat somewhere far -- along with my cat who no longer comes home for dinner perhaps out of jealousy as I promised him it would only be me and him against everything else at the end of the day. Revelations included in this portion will, for certain, elicit a shaking of heads and wagging of fingers, since their encyclopedia of illnesses says that being sad over a usual work day, or not becoming ecstatically happy over bubble gum events requires one to visit a shrink.


* * *

On: the company's Corporate Social Responsibility activity

A small gesture of kindness as we approach Christmas does not guarantee a corporate company good fortune if this is way below their capacity to reach out, and this being tinged with self-interests such as branding. One day of a good meal for orphans does not make any difference to their souls, just a hopeless promise and an illusion that there are still people who care, when in fact this is what it all really is: corporate companies only seem to care just once a year.

Given the suggestion of doing something more memorable for the kids, they answered: we can give them shirts. What's a half-wit doing there?

There's more ruckus going on for the senseless spectacle of a Christmas party aping the Tony Awards, and major concerns for who's best dressed.

Humans are a weird bunch.

Of music and our young local songwriters

As of late, I have come across youngsters who, as youngsters would, are in a perpetual effort to assert themselves. Zoom into the songwriters' category of this population: I have noticed a proliferation of those we shall refer to in this blog entry as: takagyawyaw. Pardon me, this is by no means an attempt to diss. I may very well be among them too, for all I know.

What's a takagyawyaw?

To be harshly blunt:
these are people who exert too much effort raising their banners; and then when asked of their beliefs, they don't really comprehend the whole thing, and in your eyes, they are some ape of a TV rockstar or rapper or artist you see on TV. Narrow-minded and prone to making unjustified critique of others. Those who do not have a good command of their art tools but are arrogantly overconfident.

And it is for these encounters with these certain people that within the span of a day I have developed a paranoia over all of my written output. Am I a TakagYawyaw myself? Of course I don't know squat about anything, but here I am rambling as if I know the world. I can't wait to be 45 and wiser and be justified.

Then again, before that time comes, there's the time before that. And the time before that is one's passage through these portions in life where one spits out measly truths that overwhelms one because this is all one knows and what one knows is little; and one is passing through the time before he knows more than what he does now.

And so what one can really do is just look at the insecurities that are by nature packaged with the time before that; wrap them in colored paper, forget them and leave them piled up until the end of the year when, under the Christmas tree, you let out a hearty guffaw upon opening them.

And like I always say: Char but true.

Of Mainstream and Indie Films

Last Friday, I went to watch the indie movie "Confessional" (directed by Jerrold Tarog and Ruel Antipuesto) and enjoyed it a lot.

Today I read Jessica Zafra's blog post about the Sam Milby and Toni Gonzaga's movie "My Big Love" and enjoyed it even more.

Teaser excerpt from the blog post: Anger. This movie is worse than awful, it aspires to mediocrity. We know this is a studio product made specifically for Milby and Gonzaga fans, but must it be so dull and vacuous?

This movie by the way is by the writer of the film Endo (damned good movie, i should say), which I saw a few months back. I wonder what went on in his mind while he was writing My Big Love. "I gotta make money to finance my art -- such as other indie films." Something like that perhaps. If that's by any chance true, he's excused.

Mind you, I haven't watched the movie, so I can't really say anything about it, but with other blog readers saying stuff about cringing, I fear i'll go into a fit of epilepsy during my first few minutes into the movie (if i do watch it). And I sincerely fear for the dignity of a friend who I heard is also in the movie.

Meantime, enjoy Ms. Zafra's blog.

Tanduay Decree: I Demand That You Be Jolly

Like almost every other commuter on his way to work, I stick myself inside the none-of-your-friggin-business-balloon and turn the world into a music video, Dolby Digital Surround Sound. In between FM songs, PLDT MyDSL is convincing me I need it and that I will be happy with Tanduay. True, these fat liars supply the blood in a media outfit like NU107, but for the love of God, if they're gonna lie, pesky is the last thing I want it to become...don't force “happy” where there's none.

And that band.

Sure, we're familiar with the time when the city was just filled with the incessant clanging of a remake of “Upside Down” like it was the national anthem of the Histrionics/Broken Hearted Inc, along with another band's remake of "Crazy for You". Worse, both voices from two different bands sound the same. In another attempt to win the hearts – and pockets – of the gullible, emotional lot of angst-driven teens, they break Teeth by disgracing "Prinsesa" and turning it bossa. As for the rest of their songs, it's a wonder how they swim in the mainstream when I can barely even remember them. But this is the limit: that Magsasaya song that sports a wide range of five notes.

Played almost every hour on NU107, it never fails to make me as jolly as Cruella de Vil. Why, I'd be so happy I'd make Throat Shake out of their larynxes. Now try and sing to the world Magsasaya, tingnan ko kung ngingiti ka pa.

The lyrics too are so profound it leaves everyone with a dumb smile on their faces and half-witted.

Magsasaya ang lahat / magsasaya ang lahat / magsasaya aaaang laahaaaat
Magsasaya ang lahat / magsasaya ang lahat / magsasaya aaaang laahaaaat
Magsasaya ang lahat / magsasaya ang lahat / magsasaya aaaang laahaaaat
Magsasaya ang lahat / magsasaya ang lahat / magsasaya aaaang laahaaaat
Magsasaya ang lahat / magsasaya ang lahat / magsasaya aaaang laahaaaat

The lyrics: the primordial soup mix of all clichés.

Kalimutan muna ang problema, lunurin natin sa tawanan
Magsasaya ang lahat

Dahil ang oras ay di naghihintay
Mabuti pang mag-enjoy ka na muna
Sumama na at magsaya

And my irked state no longer allows for analysis, so I say it simply: I do NOT like his voice.

Magsasaya ang lahat / magsasaya ang lahat / magsasaya aaaang laahaaaat
Ikaw ba ay napikon...

You bet I am.

Soundbite: December Issue, Bite Magazine

"Totally out of the loop now," says a musician friend when asked if he knew any major happening in the now quite quiet Cebu music scene. Ok, that's sad, considering that Cebu prides itself as being a music hub.

So now what have we for Soundbite this month?
Let's try taking a quick look at the indie film scene, where we chanced upon the story of a Manila filmmaker who journeys to Cebu to document -- yes, you guessed it -- the Sinulog. He ends up, however, with a former politician who begins to confess his crimes to the filmmaker's camera, and this is where the fun begins; and to accompany this protagonist through his journey in this 90-minute long digital film, our local musikeros are up to the task.

Entitled "Confessional", this mockumentary is directed by Jerrold Tarog and Ruel Dahis Antipuesto, and shot mostly in Cebu but with some scenes taken in Manila and Dipolog. With the film done primarily in Cebuano, the filmmakers' decision to use music of different genres from our local bands is indeed befitting.

In one of the blogs in the movie's online cave, Jerrold Tarog shares his thoughts about our musicians; that they're "lucky to get music from some of the coolest Cebuano bands around," being that these musicians are able to create originals that sound like no other by way of exploring beyond their musical inspirations.

This exceptional roster includes Smooth Friction, Zarah Smith, Missing Filemon, Happy Days, Shadowbox Serenade, Skunky Muggles, Coolie Dread and the Microphone Commanders, Missing Filemon, plus music all the way from Cagayan de Oro and Dumaguete -- Gasulina and Enchi. You can check out the movie's multiply site, www.confessionalmovie.multiply.com for other cool stuff about the movie, such as the promotional music video of Missing Filemon's Sinesine, for which the movie directors are also responsible.

The way indie films are, budget is tight of course, but this did not pose as a hindrance for the bands. There was no, or very little profit, except their music finding its way into the boombox and to a wider audience. Aaah...the things we do for love...of the things we do.

Plans of showing Confessional here in Cebu early next year are in the works, so no worries to music enthusiasts and film buffs in the island who missed the screening in Manila (as the only Cebuano entry in Cinema One Originals, mind you). As for plans of producing an album for the soundtrack, co-producer Victor Villanueva is hopeful. And you may agree with the prospect of pumping the volume back up a notch in our local music scene, even through this other underground industry; with both scenes intertwined, we may hear more than music from scattered pocket concerts.

more BITE stuff here

Freshman, nasaan ka?

While public schools all throughout the country face the perennial problem of a lack of classrooms and teachers, UP Cebu yesterday saw an abundance of space and probably less cranky staff members in the CSO and the OSA on enrollment day.

Having failed in yesterday's quest for a watering hole (both Tableya and Turtle's Nest were closed), i found myself being led back through the familiar path from Bread and Butter to the UP gates and discovered the unhappy enrollment scene. I admit it is easy for me to say, now that i don't have to face long enrollment lines, but i would rather have long lines and cranky staff than have a large portion of the youth population uneducated.

Wasn't a wonder why freshman jokes are rare nowadays in the UP Campus, as subjects for a laugh were almost absent.

If one does not avail of the loop-holed STFAP, you pay a thousand pesos for a unit. Normal semestral load consists of 18. Do the math.

Mind you, it used to be just 200 a unit.

Eventually i got tired of looking out for what little there is of the fresh batch trickling in through the gates and settled for more familiar faces, canteen food and a couple of smokes.

As with public elementary and high schools, in this morning's paper, LapuLapu City School Superintendent Leonilo Oliva says it's better to have crowded classrooms than more shifts in classes.

The ones at the back of the classroom are as good as drop outs.

Both crowded classrooms and tuitition fee increases are giving birth to a new breed of youth.

Welcome to the world, Generation Drop Out.

I think i'll have myself a beer.

In the Philippines, Red Horse beer is by far the strongest beer. It contains 6.81% alcohol by volume. Cheese actually goes well with beer, better than wine.

The alcohol present in beer is ethyl alcohol (yes, like the disinfectant). Beer has its health benefits: it is a good source of magnesium, potassium, phosphorus, selenium, biotin and B vitamins. And according to Wikipedia.com, “the darker the brew, the more nutrient dense.”

This is perhaps why when we get tipsy, we are happy...and then...

Too much intake of beer is also a very good source of stories that prove you to be less than human. and appologies, by the next day.

Alcohol in the body impairs motor function and coordination; this results in driving accidents, falls, recurrent patella dislocations, and worse, rolling off on the floor while you flail your arms and legs screaming help you're drowning.
Alcohol harms brain function, leading to confusion of whether a secret is something you should broadcast (ah, there is truth in wine...). It also causes memory loss (oh fuck, who killed my dog...???) Alcohol has a dehumanizing effect, as it is a depressant, but its immediate effect on many users may make them more agitated or aggressive;

it robs you of what dignity you have while rubbing on your beermates litanies of your problems, curses, as well as your puke, sweat and tears as you grow lachrymose. and then you tell them you love them all before you go plunk. pahid mo na pati laway mo.