Chronicle No. 27:A Day in My Dream Life

If I were a great believer in reincarnation, I would definitely work hard to earn enough karma points to be reborn as a very attractive, well-built, multilingual and very snooty French film festival newspaper correspondent. My career would be comprised of constant travel from one film festival to another throughout the year. I would say to my friends(do film critics have friends?) " Let's have lunch after the second screening in Venice".

Last week, the universe decided to bend time and space to let me have a feel of my dream life. It sent me a message through ,Sun(the English translation of my friend's name), that there was going to be a Cine Europa Film Festival in my favorite mall. Sun and I agreed to meet on the second day of the festival, which was a Saturday, and I vowed that I would watch all the movies that were going to be screened that day until my eyes liquefied from reading the subtitles.

I showed up at the mall fifteen minutes before the first screening only to be told by Sun that she just woke up. We decided to have lunch together and to start our cinematic experience at the second screening instead. To pass the time, I had a much-needed pedicure.

The first film we saw was FC Venus, a movie from Finland. It was about relationships and used football as the metaphor for the misunderstandings between couples. The plot was forgettable but I thoroughly enjoyed the dialogue and the comic timing of the actors. While watching the movie, Sun suddenly squealed "The streets of Helsinki!"

Over the past two years, Sun has seen most of Europe. In 2005, she spent her Christmas vacation ogling Italians, Austrians and Frenchmen. Six months later, she was the exchange student of our school to Stockholm University in Sweden. She was also handed a visa that allowed her to traipse through the borders of the member-countries of the European Union.She wandered around in the Old World for about a year. Life is unfair and, out of envy, Kates and I used to refer to her as "That Bitch!".

Sun, only saw the first twenty minutes of my favorite movie in the festival, La Mome, because she had to dash off to attend class. The French film is about the life of the singer, Edith Piaf, who was noted for her powerful voice in the first half of the twentieth century. What was interesting about it was that it did not follow the conventional plotline. Scenes from her rise to and fall from fame were juxtaposed in such a way that I was able to compare the difficulties she suffered before she became a star and her struggles with her fame and her art. She eventually lost her voice, which was her life, because she pushed it too far. She had no regrets when she died. I am adopting her attitude to deal with the blunders I've made in my career.

The Leap, from Denmark bored me to smithereens. The lead character, Tobias Jacobsen, was diagnosed with a fatal illness and only had a few months to live. He then spent the rest of the screen time getting over his hang-up on jumping from a neighbor's balcony while holding a large parasol. There were interesting scenes though involving the 13-year-old Tobias making out with an adolescent ballerina. The film was supposed to convey the message that we should live life to the fullest but I wished that the lead would just drop dead so that the audience and I could watch the next movie.

The reason why I sat through the screening was because the festival was held in the priciest movie theater in the city and entrance was for free. It would have been rude of me if I did not pick up the tiny culturati nuggets that the universe had tossed in my direction.

Sun, came back in time for the final screening of the day, which was Jalla!Jalla!, a Swedish film. She also brought with her a friend, who was also an exchange student to Sweden. As soon as the movie started, Sun and her friend started to reminisce on their idyll in Sweden and recited along with the Swedish dialogue. I was bombarded with trivia on the Swedes and was told that they are a very polite people. You can literally ask a total stranger to hold your dog for ten minutes.

Jalla!Jalla! is proof that you don't need a huge budget and a big cast to make a screwball comedy. All you need is a digital video camera, a couple of penis pumps, three actors who are willing to run down the streets and jump through bushes, a script about impotence and marriage and a director who has a good sense of humor. We all had a good laugh and, judging by the audience's reaction, we Pinoys do dig European movies.

In the closing scene of the movie, the soundtrack came on. It was only after the second stanza that I realized that the song was in English. I had been listening to various languages that day and English sounded strange to me. It was as if I heard English for the first time. Trying out different things can truly give us a new perspective on the stuff we had gotten used to.

Chronicle No. 26: Of Romans,Salt and Light

If I were to pick my possible past lives, one of them would be my life as a Roman domino(not the game stupid!It means 'lord'). The lives of the upper class Romans revolved around parties, orgies and more parties. They especially loved eating and would go to the pits at the back of their palatial homes whenever they were full to tickle their throats and vomit. After vomiting, they would eat again..

Octavian, the Bible quoter, lent me his dvd of Rome a few weeks ago to christen my then new dvd player with. I was not disappointed. A whole day was spent watching decadence, debauchery and violence in all its glory. Plus, I was treated to delicious lines like "Hello, old cock!", "Eat them(the goat's testicles) while they're still warm. They ought to put some oak into your cock." and "If you don't penetrate somebody today, I will burn all your books in the yard!". It was also fun to listen to curses involving the genitals of the Roman pantheon.

Rome, does not have clear-cut heroes or villains. Everyone has his or her excessive faults and few moments of glory. Everybody is ambiguous, morally and sexually. There's no attempt to explore the nature of morality and to do so would make the show sink in the bog of melodrama. The screenplay is told in a sombre tone,which is very Roman. Romans only copied their art forms from the Greeks and the other cultures they conquered and what they produced were rather dull but still managed to withstand the test of time.

My mind was still populated by images of nude Romans when I went to Atia's Baptist fellowship the following day. I would not have gone but the fellowship was going to be held at a well-known Thai restaurant and Tenaj was going too. I also made Atia promise not to make me stand in front and make soaring declarations about my faith.

The pastor preached on the symbolism of salt and light which were used by Jesus in His teachings. The Jews gathered salt from the Dead Sea and used them to fertilize the land, disinfect animal poop and to preserve food. The potassium-based salt gradually loses its salinity over time and then it would only be fit to be thrown to the streets and be trampled by men. He also discussed the three purposes of light. Light is used to ward off darkness, to examine things and to guide travelers at night. Since it is very useful, it shouldn't be put under a bowl.

So, as Christians, we were told to be the salt and light of the earth. Then, the pastor went on about the moral deterioration in movies and television shows. At that, Atia, Octavian, and Tenaj slowly turned their heads toward me. We were urged to live exemplary lives, to inspire others to drive darkness and immorality from their lives and to guide them on the path of righteousness. The sermon induced giggling fits in me instead of guilt. Whenever the pastor alluded to my deficiences as a Christian, I would smile and nudge Tenaj or make side comments to Atia.

During lunch, I heaped my plate with loads of food like a true Roman. People made small glances at my plate as I headed to my table. Earlier, the pastor told everyone to be conscientious in helping ourselves with the food and to think of those in the fellowship who have not yet eaten. I was exhausted from suppressing my laughter for almost two hours and gobbled up my food to replenish my energy. Octavian, who was seated beside me, watched me like I was a wild boar in a feeding frenzy on Discovery Channel.

I have accepted that I have long lost my saltiness and my light has long been extinguished. It doesn't bother me at all. I am beyond redemption and proof of this is that I thought of lewd connotations when the pastor was talking about rubbing salt into meat.

Chronicle No. 25: Fashionably Horrific

Tenaj and I were planning to watch The Simpsons movie last Sunday afternoon. I’m a big fan of the cartoon family and I wanted to bring back weird humor, wit and dysfunctionality into my life. Ada, who believes that she is the only daughter of God and is very confident that she’ll go to heaven on Judgment Day, wanted to come along if we would watch Ouija instead. I was very distracted because my ATM card had been swallowed by the machine earlier that afternoon and I was not able to consider the consequences of her proposal. I was also in a very accommodating mood, so, I agreed to watch her movie.

As Ada led me inside the theater, I asked her if Ouija was a Japanese horror flick. "Oh, no" she replied enthusiastically. "It’s a Judy Ann Santos movie!" I scoffed at her and thought that it was just a joke. When I saw the opening scenes of the movie, my inner voices shrieked "Omigod! It IS a Juday movie!" Never choose anything over the thing you love.

"Is that Jolina Magdangal?" I asked Tenaj and Ada while a character was teaching a classroom-full of kids. Jolina, has matured as an actress. She no longer mugs the camera and acts like she’s a teenager. She has moved on to playing api(underdog/doormat/goody-two-shoes) roles.

"Ikaw ang pumunta sa bahay niya dahil gusto mo siya at hindi ka na-rape!(You were the one who went to his house because you liked him and you weren’t raped!)" Judy Ann Santos, portraying a domineering lawyer, glared at the witness she was cross-examining. "That’s witness harassment!" the three of us chorused. "Hindi ako na-rape!(I wasn’t raped!)" blubbered the witness. Tenaj and Ada noted that Juday wore a nice bracelet and a cute set of earrings. "Yun ang sinabi ng mga boses na dapat kong sabihin(That’s what the voices told me to say)." Clearly she had schizophrenia and the three of us agreed that she needed Zyprexa.

"I would stop taking that bitch seriously if you would" hissed Iza Calzado, playing a prima donna actress, to her co-star. She has the best lines in the movie and are worth to be used in everyday conversations like " I don’t take them seriously kahit na ang mga lalakeng yan ay nababalian na ng leeg sa kakalingon sa akin sa tuwing dumadaan ako(I don’t take them seriously even though these men break their necks from looking at me every time I pass by)", and "Aanhin pa ang kagandahan kung hindi nito kayang pahihintayin ang isang eroplano(What’s beauty for if it can’t make an airplane wait?)". Tenaj and Ada agreed that Iza is very pretty but fat. They also went excited over Iza’s blouses, skirts and pants throughout the movie.

The characters were now on a beach somewhere in Camiguin. They had just attended the funeral of their grandmother and were relieving stress by wearing clothes that billowed in the wind and made them look good in front of the camera. The Ouija board, the object referred to in the title, made its appearance on the arms of Iza Calzado as she said to her cousins "Let’s play!" They inadvertently summoned an evil spirit and horrible things started to happen. Also, as the movie progressed, they inexplicably referred to the board as Spirit of the Glass.

The characters were trundling their luggage unto a yacht when Ada exclaimed "Is that Luis Vitton?" and then admired a pair of sunglasses brandished by somebody on-screen. "Ruby Rodriguez is always doing the yaya(nanny) role in all her TV shows and movies" Tenaj observed. I pointed out that their skin looked lovely with the aid of good lighting equipment.

The horrors promised by the movie began to unfold on the screen and Tenaj and Ada screamed with the rest of the audience. After each screaming fit, Tenaj would declare "I’m so scared!" and then note what the characters were wearing and their accessories at their point of death.

In one of the final scenes wherein Juday was being chased by the spirit, Tenaj informed us that she saw Juday’s bead necklace in Mango. The camera zoomed onto Juday’s terrified face and Ada said she had large pores and the two of them then ooooohhhd over Juday’s red blazer and belt, as she ran along a dark corridor.

While Iza Calzado was being possessed by the malevolent spirit, I wondered whether I was being punished. My ATM card was stuck in a machine somewhere in the mall and I had to pay P100 to watch a movie version of a fashion catalogue that had a non-existent plot. "We should have watched The Simpsons" somebody behind me said. I wanted to weep in agreement.

Chronicle No. 24:The Universe's Sense of Balance

I recently had the worst day of my life, yet. Contrary to my expectations, it didn't take a massively horrible event to ruin my day. If life is all about the small things, a bad day, which is an incident of life, is also all about small things.

On a Tuesday morning, I woke up feeling heavy, exhausted, weak and confused. It was one of those days when I had to use sheer will power to form a simple and coherent thought. After performing the arduous daily ritual of bathing, dressing and eating breakfast, I stepped out of my building to wait for a jeepney. For ten minutes, I stared at the four-lane road and watched a few private vehicles as they passed me by. It seemed like all the jeepney drivers decided to take a day-off.

I had only thirty minutes left to get to the office, which is in another city. I decided to take a taxi. I was confident that I would get there in time because the road was wide open. As I sped towards my destination, all the missing jeepneys appeared one by one. They began to overtake the taxi I was riding and clogged the areas near the traffic lights. The taxi driver tried to beat all the red lights but the traffic conspired not to let me arrive at the office on time. Vehicles would suddenly materialize from all the sidestreets imaginable and swamp all the lanes before us whenever we were at the brink of making it before the lights changed.

After shelling out 87.50 pesos and nearly bursting a vein from all the strain of controlling my road rage, I was a minute late. It meant a deduction of a few measly centavos, which was largely disproportionate to my taxi fare.

I was in the midst of ranting to my officemates about the traffic situation when I was called to a meeting. It was bad news. Upon hearing it, I smiled and clutched the corners of my seat. It was the only way I could restrain myself from laughing hysterically and screaming "Things just couldn't get any better!". I felt like I was a character in a very bad sitcom.

When I got back to my cubicle, I felt numb. As I stared at my computer, I contemplated on the Sisyphian nature of life. All effort is futile. All of us are flies sinking in the porridge of meaninglessness and pointlessness. Human life and human achievement are transient.

Christabel, attempted to cheer me up by telling me that the universe could have been trying to protect me from a fatal vehicular accident by causing me to be late for work. Christabel is a Libran and therefore sees the glass as half-full.

After work, I attended one of the bi-monthly meetings of my club and basked in the presence of positive and successful people. I was reminded that there are still good things out there and they make life worth living. If small bad things ruin a day, small good things can fix it.

I ended my day by going to the wake of a person who was murdered and had 19 stab wounds and a slit throat. Life can take sudden twists and turns and worrying too much is a waste of time since you can die at any second for the most stupid reasons. The universe runs on its own logic and rhythm and the fluctuations in our lives are the adjustments the universe makes to maintain balance.

Chronicle No. 23: A Desperate Homeboy

I’ve been told by people that I am very lucky because I can do whatever I want. Barring financial problems, serious diseases and unwanted dependents, it’s true. But, everything has a price and there is no such thing as absolute freedom. Aside from taxes and death, dust is also a permanent fixture in our lives.

As a devout practitioner of the art of Sloth, I abhor doing house work. I abhor doing any work, period. I used to clean my room once every three months, at most, and I had a very strong ability to ignore the layers of dust on my things and the dark and thick cobwebs gathering at the corners of my ceiling. It was only when my sense of propriety kicked in and out of extreme boredom that I would clean my room.

It was always a psychological battle. Every wipe I made with the wet rag across the jalousie window was an act of will. My wiping motions were accompanied by the chorus of my three inner voices “Why do we do thisss…Preciousss…? Nasssty little dustiesss…They dirty usss… Preciousss…Not nice…Nasssty filthy dustiesss…They dirty our skinsss…Precious…” What my mom could thoroughly do in thirty minutes took me three hours. Most of my cleaning time was spent sitting in front of the electric fan and singing along with the radio.

My excuse for living in a dustbin was that I was a student. I had so much material to read that I didn’t have time for trivial things, like cleaning. After all, Denial is one of my greatest skills.

Now that I am living the pseudo-independent and the bachelor life, I have to be a grown-up. I’ve just moved into a ‘pad’ and I have to take care of everything – the bills and the maintenance. The living-on-your-own thing may sound exciting and glamorous, but it really is not. There is no glamour in housekeeping.

I have been transformed into an obsessive floor-sweeper and tile-scrubber. Vanity and self-respect are the two very powerful forces that cause me to bend over my linoleum-covered floor and vigorously wipe away the dirt and dust particles. Ever since I started living in my ’pad’, my friends have been making plans on hanging out at my place. My recent acquisition of a TV has made them very excited and there is now a call for me to buy a DVD player. When I do get the much coveted and talked about DVD player, I should start expecting people to pop up at my front door anytime of the day or night, at their convenience. I don’t want them to think of me as a slob. Note that my actions are the result of my apprehension of what other people would think.

Housekeeping is hard work and it’s my only form of weekly exercise. To protect my hands from the harsh chemicals and the splinters from my wooden shelves, I bought a bright yellow pair of rubber gloves from Handyman for less than fifty pesos. I also have a spray bottle with which I squirt diluted bleach at the tiles on my bathroom walls. I also have a toilet bowl brush with a thin metal handle. Aligned on top of my bathroom cabinet is my housekeeping arsenal, which consists of a plastic container filled with cleaning detergent, a bottle of muriatic acid, a bottle of blue hydrochloric acid and two small bottles of bleach with different scents. With these at my disposal, I think I make a decent housekeeper.

I’ve been living in my ‘pad’ for almost two months and I have discovered that housekeeping can be therapeutic and fulfilling (I’m watching Oprah at the time of this writing). Sometimes, on weekends when I have nothing to do, I fend off boredom by putting on my rubber gloves and doing impressions of Dexter’s Mom in Dexter’s Laboratory. When I’m done sweeping, scrubbing and wiping, I’d go to the mall feeling productive and relaxed. On days that I’m in a dark and gloomy mood, watching the grime go down the drain makes me feel a little better.

My cleaning routine is one the few things that are constant and consistent in my life right now. Scrubbing away at the moss growing between my white bathroom tiles, gives me a sense that my life has purpose and meaning.

Chronicle No. 22: The Search for My Soulmate

As far as I can remember, the happiest moments of my life always involved a certain TV set. In 1991, my grandparents, who were always concerned about their social status and what other people thought of our family, decided that it was time to upgrade their mode of entertainment. Throughout the 80’s, we made do with a TV that had knobs for changing channels and adjusting the volume. It was around noontime in the month of June that my grandfather, with great show of smugness and ceremony, peeled off the box from the most amazing thing that I had ever seen in my eight years in this world: a 27-inch Sony TV set.

Whenever we had parties, my grandparents never failed to show-off their new and humongous(in the early 90’s standards) TV, and they would trundle out the betamax player and show tapes of Robocop, Rambo and Flowers in the Attic . Sony, was the center of our fervent affections and we vied for her viewing pleasures. She was the bright light that illuminated the fungus-infected corners of my imagination.

On late afternoons, after school, I would position my self on our green-striped sofa and absorbed all the flickering images thru my retinas and let them ricochet all over my synapses. We spent a lot of afternoons, even days, together and my world revolved around her. We were at it for nine years and we last saw each other when I went to college. Since I spent too much time in her company, I detested the company of other people and shunned reality. Sony, was my best friend, nanny and surrogate mother. Freud once said that the true spouse of a man is his mother. In my case, it was my surrogate mother.

So, last June 17, 2007, Christabel and Esther(not their real names) decided to accompany me on my quest for a TV. I am now living the pseudo-independent and bachelor life and I have realized that being unattached can be lonely and uneventful. I needed a TV to bring excitement to my nights.

We first went to Colon Street, the shopping district of the middle and lower classes and the bargain Mecca of Cebu. My guides darted effortlessly through the Sunday throng while I carefully avoided colliding with fast-walking pedestrians. Colon, is an alien world to me. It is the exact opposite of my antiseptic environment, the mall. I dislike being in the midst of a sweaty and smelly crowd because my five-meter radius of personal space gets repeatedly violated. One of the most important things that Sony taught me was self-absorption.

When we entered a shop, the salesman immediately got off his stool and launched into his spiel. He never seemed to make any pauses or draw breaths. I think that his philosophy in marketing is that non-stop blabbering, sells. I tuned out and took a hard look at the merchandise smuggled out of Korea. It was dilapidated and worn out at the sides. It was pathetic and it would never match with my linoleum. If I were to replace Sony in my heart, the candidate must at least have some of her qualities like elegance and clarity.

We went into another shop but their wares were unworthy of me and far below my taste. Christabel, suggested that we should go to Mandaue. Her cousin bought a Panasonic TV there and it was in very good condition. After walking all the way to the Sto. Nino Basilica, we got on a jeepney that took us to SM and then we took another jeepney to Mandaue.

When I laid my eyes on her, I knew that she was the one. She was from the Aiwa family and came all the way from Japan. Sony, was also from Japan. The 24-inch flatscreen on her face was her best feature and her sharp lines and contours exuded elegance. Most of all, she had a very high resolution. She came with a remote control and a ten-foot Baron super antenna.

To celebrate my luck and to express my gratitude, I took Christabel and Esther to our favorite al fresco restaurant near the Capitol site for dinner. We had al dente pasta in chili and lemon sauce with a hint of shrimp and two servings of slices of bologna sautéed with huebos. We capped it off with sparkling lemon-flavored drinks in green bottles.

When I got home, I touched Aiwa’s ON button and we proceeded to entertain each other deep into the night.

Chronicle No. 21: Furious Action! The Power of the Kyubi!(Days of Panic, Part Four)

One of the very important lessons I learned in life is that, one should never take the first flight of the day to anywhere.

This realization snuck into my head the moment I realized that I didn't hear the alarm that was set to go off at 2:30 am. I woke up at 3:18 am and my PAL flight was scheduled to take off at 5:30 am from the far-off island of Mactan."The plane is going to leave without us!" my three inner voices screamed.

This happened because of lack of foresight on my part. On April 22, Sunday, I had taken it upon myself to have a break and recover from the three days of stress that I went through. I put on my new Havaianas slippers - a gift from a cousin - and took a jeep from Private to Sto. Rosario church to attend mass. I then inadvertently became a participant of a funeral. After the mass, I visited some friends and then sauntered off to Ayala mall, which was my living room during my law school days. to refamiliarize myself with its topography. On my way there, I allowed my limited edition slippers to have a taste of third-world dust. I got back to Queenie's house at around 9 pm, started packing at around 10:30 pm, finished at around 12:00 am and then went to bed. I tossed around for a while and at around 1:30 am, I finally fell asleep.

The thought that the plane would leave without me, caused me to go inside the dungeons in my mind to speak with the Kyubi(Nine-Tailed Fox Demon). Twelve years ago, when my inner child was born, the Kyubi invaded our village. In order to defeat it, the Fourth Hokage of the Hidden Village of Konoha, in the Country of the Fire, used his special jutsu, which required him to sacrifice his soul to the Death God. He imprisoned the demon inside my body with the use of the Four-Seasons Seal, that allows me to tap into the demon's power whenever the need arises.

Filled with red chakra, I bolted out of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. "My God!The plane is going to leave without me!" I whispered to the large green plastic drum as I scooped water from it. I also exclaimed to my bar of soap and to my bottle of shampoo that the plane was going to leave without me. As I rinsed off the soap and the shampoo, I mumbled to the tiles on the wall that the plane was going to leave without me.

I was able to bathe, shave, brush my teeth, dress and put my things in order in a span of twenty minutes, which could be considered as one of the greatest achievements of time management. I then woke up Queenie and the two of us staggered towards the road to hail a taxi.

The taxi driver must have dreamed of joining the Formula One tournament because what usually took an hour's ride to the airport through normal Cebu traffic, took only twenty minutes. The fact that the streets were almost empty helped. For the first time, I beheld the ASEAN lamp posts in all their glory and wondered what was so special about them that they supposedly cost over 300,000 pesos each. I couldn't understand why they had to install low-wattage lights when the sodium lights along the road already served the purpose. Aesthetic reaons, perhaps? At most, they're tacky. Maybe they were meant to prevent the ASEAN contingent from going off the road.

The taxi dropped me off at the domestic flight entrance and I was dismayed to see a line of people snaking from the pre-departure area to the sidewalk. I found out that only one x-ray machine was working and that the security checks were strict. More cabs arrived and I entertained myself by looking at the shocked expressions of people upon seeing the very long line as they got out of their taxis.

After what seemed like forever, I was finally thoroughly groped by the guards, my shoes were examined and my pockets were emptied. I looked at the time and I was amazed that I was already lining up at the check-in counter exactly an hour after I woke up. If it were any other day, I would still be putting on my socks.

I met some of my fellow lawyers(note the conceit) there and we chattered away like high school students on a field trip. Leah and Aimee, cut into the line with me because they forgot to check-in some of their things. The airport personnel were already in a frenzy to accommodate all the passengers for Philippine Airlines and Cebu Pacific bound for Manila and Davao. The security people still managed to be polite eventhough they were already gritting their teeth from the stress. The melee worsened when it was announced that the PAL and Cebu Pacific flights bound for Manila were already boarding. People began to elbow their way through the metal detectors.

After I got my terminal pass, I ran after Leah, who kept waving at me, and her mother. "Almost everybody's on the plane!" Leah exclaimed when we saw the empty seats at the pre-departure area. There were ten people who were lining up to get into the tube that led to the plane.

"This is for Cebu Pacific passengers only!" the woman inspecting the tickets raised her voice at us upon seeing our PAL tickets. She looked like she was about to snap. "Oh, we're so sorry. It was an honest mistake" Leah's mom cooed.Instead of retracing our steps and taking the circuitous and chaotic route to the PAL gate, we ran down the corridor meant for disembarking passengers. We tried to catch our breaths while Leah's mom sweetly explained to the PAL employee that it was all an honest mistake. We ended up getting into the plane ahead of everybody.

My colleagues were very surprised to see me smiling broadly at them from the center aisle of the plane."We were worried about you. We thought you were still at the check-in counter" they declared. I kept on grinning at them like a fool because I haven't seen them for over eight months. When the plane started to taxi on the runway, I fastened my seatbelt and eagerly looked forward to heavy turbulence up in the air.