ECT Launching Stage Backdrop

The End

Your hair reminds me of a time when we once were
Your fingernails that marked my back now rot in earth
The sheets we slept in blew away and now the storm is over
The taste of you inside my mouth remains but still I'm hearing

There's no love everybody's crying
There's no truth everyone's misguided

And now the end is here
There's no more pills to swallow
The bitter taste I feel won't lead me to tomorrow

Your scent reminds me of a place we used to go
The kisses placed upon my neck show signs of no return
The bed we fucked in smells the same and now the stench is fading
The taste of you inside my mouth remains but still I'm hearing

There's no love
Everybody's crying
There's no truth
Everyone's misguided

And now the end is here
There's no more pills to swallow
The bitter taste I feel
Won't lead me to tomorrow

Cries for anger, lies for power
Fighting for nothing is what you were born for
Cries for anger, lies for power
Fighting for nothing is what you were born for

Yeah!!

Cries for anger, lies for power
Fighting for nothing is what you were born for
Cries for anger, lies for power
Fighting for nothing is what you were born for!

(Bullet for My Valentine)

Threatening the President and other idiotic stories

And so I happened to go to that opening ceremonies at the Sandugo OTOP Trade Fair not knowing the President will be also there. You know how nightmarish it is when a president is around. The inspections, the groping guards who made the ocassion justifiable, the long lines so you can only come in.

I hated the President more, because I so happened to bring my camera.

I fall in line.

Turn on the camera please. If I was more insane I could have fucked my camera right there and then without having to turn it on.

I told the guards I won't be using it. They put some security sticker on it. Oh my, that cam I so guarded zealously so that not even dust could settle on it but now an orange sticker defaced its presence.

They got my Stabilor orange highlighter.

What for? I asked them. They were just told to do so.

What about my two ballpens? I could harm the President with these.

No, I was actually using the term dunggab which means to stab in Bisaya. Pwede nakong dunggabon si GMA ani. I could stab GMA with these ballpens. Nobody seemed to mind me. They just laughed.

Defeated with my attempts to threatened the President, I retreated to a corner where some friends were chatting.

Maybe I am good at comedies.

(The only picture of President GMA I took. When I saw that it was blurred, I did not take another shot.)

Imelda Marcos asks Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo

Nag-shampoo ka ba girl?

(Pic from here.)

My Sunday Ritual

For the past years, my Sunday ritual included waking up early and walking down to the Capitol area, Mango Avenue, Fuente Circle and back. My place is perched on the mountainous part of Capitol area and I am actually overlooking the city so walking towards the Capitol and back is quite an exhilarating experience. Except when weather won't permit me to do so.

After a considerable amount of perspiration that would make my shirt wet, I would drop by Jollibee and rest and have my favorite breakfast. You ordered one longganiza breakfast and hot chocolate with additional large pineapple juice. Yeah right. That would be a hundred and five sir.

After some news reading, I would drop-by the small tiangge right infront of the Capitol grounds. These small time vendors came from the towns of Cebu and display their goods here. You can be assured that they are 100% fresh.

This small tiangge grow so fast last year so that you can see live chickens and fish on display, sometimes with a small pig tied to a post here and there. But a political quarrel between Mayor Tomas Osmeña and Governor Gwen Garcia ensued and these small time vendors were affected. The revengeful Osmeña literally kicked them vendors out claiming the area belongs to the city government.

Some enterprising vendors managed to come back and just a few of them are here every weekend starting Friday night. From them I usually buy a kilo of fresh sweet corn and some ripe mangoes and bananas and young coconuts. Bringing these goodies, I would start the ascend back to my place.

This would complete my day on a Sunday. And I feel good.

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Speaking of Mayor Tomas Osmeña who just arrived from the US to have his cancer treated, I was aghast when I read in the news that he would not permit non-city residents to be admitted in the city-run Cebu City Medical Center. What the hell was he thinking?

Imagine the bully of Osmeña being denied medical attention when he went to the US because he is not an American citizen!

SUE ME, he challenged those who would be denied medical assistance from that city hospital. A reaction from a Sun*Star columnist can be read here: MAYOR CROSSES LINE.

I believed something terrible happened during his treatments in the US.

(Picture of Osmeña brandishing a weapon while visiting a workers' strike at Gaisano South in Cebu City is taken from sunstar.com.ph)

Breeding and Professionalism Matters

Remember Jerome Sala? That young man from the province of Bohol who bested others in ABS-CBN's Star in a Million 2005 show?

Well- he got married and started a hollow blocks business in his hometown of Pilar in Bohol. Management problems, I heard, had him with no projects despite winning that prestigious show.

And he did it again!

No, he did not win anything but I heard from the grapevine that Jerome Sala Ucab is banned from performing anywhere in Tagbilaran City and worst in the whole province of Bohol due to a conflict with Mayor Dan Lim and Governor Erico Aumentado. Sources say that Mr Ucab was requested to act and sing in the Dagohoy Musical to recap the Sandugo festivities on July 26 (Sunday) but he turned down the offer due to management (again!) and money matters. Chismosos and chismosas who heard the angry call of Mayor Lim was happily shocked with the words the famous mayor is known for.

Such a waste of talent! Mr Ucab should not let that Star in a Million win bloat his ego and become his waterloo. Fans of Mr Ucab should defend him now and perhaps explain his side.

Meanwhile, Cesar Montano and his wife Sunshine Cruz, who were asked to act on that same musical readly accepted their roles. Montano, who proudly wears his Boholano heritage everywhere, is proud to be part of that musical and is rehearsing his role when I wrote this.

This goes to show how breeding and professionalism affects a person.

(All pics from wikipedia.com)

The Fantastic Promise of Networking

I have been invited many times, since college, to this networking stuff. Always, they promise me of wonderful things to come. Some even tell me I can stay at home and sleep all day but still have money in my account, mamatay man sila.

Well- honestly, so many of them networking companies have come and gone. And mostly dead, leaving behind so many unfulfilled promises, so many dumb people and so much legal matters lawyers are having a lot of fun they could go home and sleep but money still would flow to them.

Legacy, for example.

A retired teacher I know invited me to dinner at a classy restaurant in Tagbilaran some time ago. I was more than amused because we were not that close and yet he insisted we see each other and together with some retirees from Canada. I smell something not nice. Well- he invested more than a million. I did not have a thousand. But now we are in the same level- we both have no money.

And the rest is history.

I never like networking stuff, actually. Wait- I have one thing I like in networking meetings- they always have food you could stuff in your mouth. And that's the only consolation I could think of from them.

All of them people who are way above you are the smartest, cutest, clean-looking entities you could imagine. You could tell the disparity between you and them but they seem not able to notice at all. They talk of tiers. I am here. You are there. But we share.

These entities are very polite, always smiles like they have everything in this world, and they always talk about money and gains and the good life. In other words- they are the most perfectly plastic of all people.

They would show you checks of five to ten digits, with their names, of course. Checks you don't know if they are real or not. Always checks from some well-known banks. But until now, I am still wondering why they could not show cash, which is more tempting.

And they would illustrate you the power of triangles just like what the makibaka groups (remember the song Tatsulok) or your nutritionist have them in their notes. Triangles. Pyramids. Money. Lots of money. Schemes.

So many are fooled by easy money.

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Why Pyramid?

A Pyramid Scheme is shaped like a pyramid because they run out of suckers and the deal collapses. About any multi level compensation plan can be used for a pyramid. A pyramid scheme sells products of no or little value at inflated prices so that a lot of money flows through the pyramid scheme. The last people in make very little or no money because there aren’t a spare 100,000 or million people dumb enough to feed the bottom of the pyramid scheme. Get Rich Quick is the battle cry of pyramid schemes! We could say Darwin’s Theory holds true and the smart survivors stay out! The pyramid scheme starts collapsing and the participants complain to the law (usually too late). 

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(Pyramid illustration from www.unc.edu)

The Hot Pink Umbrella

People rarely picks a hot color for an umbrella. Well- not everyone. But if you have that color, you can be easily seen. And in case someone mistook it as theirs, you can always notice because of its color. Importantly, nothing can beat the heat of the sun but a hot pink umbrella. 

Lonely at the top

Despite the heavy load I am undergoing now- some stuff badly needed for Sandugo Festival in Bohol because they did not like the studies the artist designed for them, I am basically empty. Work, work and work seems to be my only concern and I am lonely.

Some asshole of a friend told me this is because I am just getting old. A mystery just like PMS in women. I hate mysteries. They remind me of hours of kneeling and repetitious prayers. And growing old doesn't mean you would become lonely. I think.

But still I am.

Does staying at home because you don't have money to spend a symptom of maturity? I mean getting old? Or blatantly saying I AM BROKE is synonymous with old age? Or I am just lonely because I don't have money? No money + old age = Loneliness? Why it always comes to money? Or is it really money?

I don't know. I am lonely.

Such is the wonder of loneliness. You babble out nonsense.

Approved Design for the Sandugo Regional OTOP Trade Fair

Watching the Race

We were watching a boat race in the middle of the afternoon and I saw this child sitting on a small boat, not minding the heat. Such a glamorous pose. This was taken during the town fiesta of Zumarraga, Samar.

Sosyal ang Auntie ko!

I always appreciate the more mature generation who love to tinker with technology. That is why the Bayantel ad is a hit to me. 

My aunt from my father's side whom we fondly call Inday Gloria for example, calls me from time to time using Skype because she is bored at home. I took her pics (without her knowledge) while she got bored talking to me. She said she is reading a book she found in my place. Cool.

Milan Design Week 09

I noticed that my blogs here have become some sort of dark and depressing due to my whining, whimpering and, oh my God, those obituaries for the dead and the not so dead.

Why not some cool stuff to make my day brighter?

Like furniture. I have rearranged my pad to make it different and cool to my eyes. But all I have is an old stuffy chair and a sofa bed. But I am not complaining. Yet.

How I wish I could have any ONE of these following furniture in my place. Talking about cool and trendy. Yeah? And playfull and extremely creative!

These pieces are designed by Gaetano Pesce and shown at Meritalia. Damn these Italians. I am actually drooling over them furnitures. And over Italians too.

Oh Iran-

Friday the 19th of June 2009
Tomorrow, Saturday
Tomorrow is a day of destiny
Tonight, the cries of Allah-o Akbar
Are heard louder and louder than the nights before
Where is this place?
Where is this place where every door is closed?
Where is this place where people are simply calling God?
Where is this place where the sound
Of Allah-o Akbar gets louder and louder?
I wait every night to see if the sounds
Will get louder and whether the number increases
It shakes me
I wonder if God is shaken
Where is this place where
So many innocent people are entrapped?
Where is this place where no one comes to our aid?
Where is this place where only with our silence
We are sending our voices to the world?
Where is this place where the young shed blood
And then people go and pray?
Standing on that same blood and pray…
Where is this place where the citizens
Are called vagrants?
Where is this place? You want me to tell you?
This place is Iran.
The homeland of you and me
This place is Iran.
(Poem for the Rooftops of Iran- June 19th 2009)


I was burning in shame. I am a hopeless bystander in this world who could not even offer help to my brothers and sisters in Iran. It was like a scene in my younger days when my father started to physically abuse my mother and my neighbors could not do anything to help but stare or peep through their windows. While we children cowered in fear and shame in some darkened corner waiting for our turn.

I cried. My heart bleeds.

Oh Iran...

(Picture from The Enlightenment Project)

Oh Iran my heart bleeds for you...

That is why the Philippine government is inutile

According to Inquirer reports, an undersecretary of the country belittles a "mere radio operator" because he claims he knows about bombs.

I laugh. He did not know. They did not know. The Gloria Administration did not know! Even an elementary student with an internet connection knows how to build bombs.

Undersecretary Anthony Golez said that according to military intelligence officers, whistle-blower Vidal Doble had worked as a mere telephone technician at the Intelligence Service of the Armed Forces of the Philippines (Isafp).

"With that kind of job description in their institution, we find it very clumsy for this person to claim that he has knowledge of these things, particularly the making of bombs or any specifics or details on explosives…,” Golez, a deputy spokesperson of President Macapagal-Arroyo, told reporters at a briefing.

Golez added that Doble’s salary level at Isafp could not have allowed for “the kind of information that he has been stating.”

PATHETIC! Mr Undersecretary if you can read this (and I am sure you can't) please click on the following links. If you know what I am talking about.

How to Build an Incendiary Bomb More Powerful Than Napalm

How to Make an Atomic Bomb

Want Some Help Building a Bomb? 

How do you measure worth it?

I am still having the headache attacks when he told me we will have a massage. Despite having a limited budget, I agree. I so like to have my body and its aches here and there be soothe.

But we both agree the massage at Grand Royal Spa in Lahug was not a good one. And he is disgusted with the masseur making advances to him. I laugh.

We proceed to the nearby IT Park because he want me to taste an Indonesian food called nasi goreng. I hope it is not nasty, I said. He did not understand the word. I did not notice my grumbling stomach.

We silently eat at Makan with the nasi goreng. My first. He said this is not the nasi goreng he expected but it is passable. I love it. Despite the loud music and the humidity of the place. I am perspiring.

Where do we go now, he ask after my burp. I don't know. Your place? Okay.

I can see his amusement when we arrive home. So you have a new look in your place? What do you mean, I asked. This and this, he pointed out the things and the wall I have repainted. I laugh again. I think we buy an aircon, the portable one. Hayyy, this gentleman who can't live without an airconditioner.

We talk nonsense. We talk about Mafia Wars. We talk about my Farm Town. Talk and talk. He was laughing all throughout. Can you let me borrow your plane? Sure. With my own plane, I can fly for 8 hours a day and I will be glad. I am glad he is no longer angry. Just a few hours before he was furious with his instructor.

Noting that the hours have come and gone, he says he will leave now. Okay and thanks so much for the massage and the nasi goreng. He hug me goodbye and told me I am his bestfriend. I hug him back.

Life is good.