Not The Halloween I Know

(Let's pretend I posted this on time.)

I love Halloween. Fires, dancing, soul-singing, tricks, treats, apple pie. Unfortunately, the Halloween I love depreciated over the years thank you very much American-spawned commercialism. Today's Halloween is what I prefer to call Hallmark Halloween, along with Hallmark Easter and Hallmark Christmas. Today's Hallmark and Hershey's holiday is about spooks (and marketing money out of it). Scaring people with images of gore, darkness, and death. Fearing otherworldy beings and mocking their existence. No, All Hallows is not about fear and scare. While fear is natural, it is not for this day. The whole point of this yearly feast is to grow appreciation and respect for that necessary fact of darkness. It's about death, our mortality, the fragility of life, and the inevitable end. This day marks remembrance. Of old things, of dead things; roots, ancestors, the hidden and lost, the inevitable coming of winter (with our without snow, it's still winter), silence, darkness, last harvests, shadows, mysteries.

That is the All Hallows I know. Much like the Irish Samhain and Korean Chusok. Much like the local Undras. (Yeah, before it got bastardised, and yes with an R.)

And since today is about ancestral backtracking, I backtrack to an old post from two years back.

+ + +

Music playing: “Elysium” – Hans Zimmer & Lisa Gerard

First day of the month. First day of November. Summer rains and warm breezes are all fading into chilly whispers. The inevitable chill shall cover the earth once again.

On this day, of whose night is darkest amongst all nights, and yet brightest as all candles are lit, we remember those who have gone. Those who had woven all their shares in the fate of the world. Fetched by grey steeds; boarded on grey ships into the Parting Seas. Those who had earned their still passage into the Undying Lands. We remember. We give honour and hail.

Hail, the Blessed Dead. And all our fathers and mothers of old before us. To the line of our people back to the beginning.

We remember. Hail.

On this same day and night, as we commit to our ancestral rites, we remember the place of death in the world, interim and absolute; of an inescapable and fragile mortality we must all acknowledge, from simple to tragic. At the same time, we are reminded as well that this passage should not be feared, nor bitterly received when the time comes. Such reflections are the purpose of this time.

But for now, as all pilgrims not through with their journeys, we pray Death another year: “You have your own place, Death, and this is not it. There you rule as queen; here we are the most common of people. There you dwell in a noble palace; here we live in a simple house. There you enjoy sparkling riches; here our poverty shames us. Go to your place, Death, and wait for us there. We have heard your message and we will respond. But we are busy here, Death. We have many things to do. Be patient, we will respond, but only when the time is right. Return to your home, Death, and wait for us to come. For you it will be only a little while. For us it will be a lifetime.” [Ceisiwr Serith]

We pray you O' Coverer another year. A few dozen more, even. And until that time comes when we have grown weary of the world, we will pray again a couple more.

Ang Tamang Uso

Sa dami ng nauuso sa TV...

Sana mauso naman ang matalino.

Glorietta Terror

"...what’s different about the Glorietta blast, in the reactions and confessions and the dozens of entries in blogs all over the Internet, is the uniform mix of fear and relief. There is no forgetting this one. The words that are repeated, in murmurs and whispers down the alleyways of cyberspace are the same. It could have been my brother. It could have been my boyfriend. It could have been my mother. It could have been me." (Patricia Evangelista)

It was terrible. The justifiable paranoia whether someone I know and love was there, was mortifying. Unimaginable. The place is dear to me. We have supper there almost every day of the work week. I thought they were keeping us safe all the time? There’s no longer any sense of safety—it happened in a mall, that safe haven of the 21st century. Safe? We don’t know what that means anymore.

Let us pray for the dead and wounded, and peace for all the souls that have been scarred by this horrid event. This is serious shit, people. Pay attention.

Linguicide

Losing languages means losing knowledge, said K. David Harrison, an assistant profes­sor of linguistics at Swarthmore College. “When we lose a language, we lose cen­turies of human thinking about time, seasons, sea creatures, reindeer, edible flowers, mathematics, landscapes, myths, music, the unknown and the everyday.”

With the Taglish trend around, I don't think anybody would care in this colonial hell.

So You Think I'm Gay?

The "Gay Scene": To be brief, I just don't like it. I can't figure out why one's sexual orientation would make one act differently (outside the bedroom), but I think it would be either willful denial or blindness to deny that many gay men have adopted certain characteristics that have come to be known as “gay acting.” And I say “adopted” because not all gay men do this, and many that do didn't do it before they came out. Homosexuality may not be a choice, but it appears these characteristics are. I suppose it is these characteristics that enable “gaydar” to work, and maybe that's why they exist: guys are sending out clear “mating signals” to ease dating. And it's nothing against gays, necessarily. I also don't like when receptionists on the west side of Los Angeles adopt fake British accents, or when newly rich people start pretending they like opera, or when the Chinese kids I went to high school with start speaking Ebonics and acting like “thugz.” Give me a break! Why can't people just be who they are? Perhaps my antipathy comes from a lack of understanding why they do it. I'm definitely not saying people shouldn't have the freedom to express themselves how they want. And I'm definitely not ripping on guys who are naturally feminine or who really do have a flair for fashion or who actually do tend to scream when they're excited. But it just annoys me when people fake it, and I'm not looking forward to being lumped together with that, or having my friends and family wondering when I'm going to start lisping and wearing feather boas.

Bogus Hindsight: I've never really liked most team sports. I've always been interested in architecture. I've always gotten along well with girls as friends. I've always been close to my mom. I think it's fun to read celebrity magazines like People. I talk really fast when I get excited. I think these things are just part of who I am. I think I can point to how those characteristics developed. And I don't think they have anything to do with the fact that I find boys attractive. But they could be seen as “gay” traits. And I'm sure people are going to look back and nod smugly and say “ahhh, of course, I should have known!” I just find that ridiculous and annoying. If they look back to the fact that I haven't dated a girl since high school, or that I got caught with naked pictures of myself on my computer in high school, well THOSE were legitimate clues. But I won't enjoy people examining my life and finding “gay” things in my past that are not. I don't want to be re-defined through gay-colored glasses.

Matt's words, not mine. But it feels like me. You could dub me with it, actually. But he had different reasons when he wrote this: "Outing". Me, I just don't feel comfortable with labelling myself gay, bi or straight. I don't feel it presents me with accuracy. And I love accuracy to the bone.

But I do find boys immensely attractive, though. Mostly. Not all the time, but mostly. Why do you even need a label for that?

Westro Generation

Westro ™

Portmanteau of "Western" and "Metropolitan" – a culture that is dangerously 'global', crudely pop-centred, commercial, consumerist, capitalist, obsessively metropolitan, and one-dimensionally sectarian.

Perfect example? The United States of Hollywood and McDonald's. Heads up, R of P - you're on the Westro wannabe list.

I don't know about you but I am proud paganus to the death.

Do You Dance In Ritual?

It has been a while since I danced to the Gods.

Abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz

Cherry
Chito
Rosary
Josephine
Sebastian
John
Anne
Menthol
Joseph
Jans
Jeanne
Mary
Barhertz
Christopher
Kaz
and

Jonathan S.

Wordiness Threatens Low Tide Brains

You don't like how I answer questions? Then, don't ask me any.

If you really want me to, then let me.

In The Land Of Fake Brothers

What sort of brotherhood is there in pain and torture? You know nothing about fraternal love, you pathetic ragamuffins!

Little unwashed idiots. I hope you all die and rid the world of your asinine games.

Is this the only form of personality available amongst the young ones nowadays? Pity.

Kill them. I don't care if they're children. Those little gremlins will eventually turn into tomorrow's criminals. Kill them all.

Intimacy Is Best For Infants And Above

There's a lot of comfort and freedom around these men.

...

The combination of agression and tenderness evident is what I find so compelling.

...

I think what it is, is that they are so at ease with their masculinity, that they are completely comfortable being intimate with each other. This is something we have lost in Western Europe and America where any intimacy between men is seen as 'sexualized.'

...

The wrestlers' complete security in their masculinity that allows for horseplay and moments of intimacy is something that is very rare to see in the current age. American prudishness sees any such intimacy as sexualized and forbidden, while Western European coolness means that such intimacy is rarely expressed.

...

The wrestlers are a little bit wary of Gay photographers and are unhappy that their sport is often sexualized.

...

Some of the photographers who do behave a bit obnoxiously has affected the way the guys behave and made them more self conscious. If this keeps happening it will probably be impossible to take some of these shots in a few years time.

(Commentary derived from the featured photographer istanbulmike.)

Idiots may call it gay or bading, but we old farts simply call it 'natural'.

PS: This is Yağlı Güreş (Yagli Gures), Turkey's national sport.

Can We Justify Arrogance?

"Arrogance is earned."

(Dr Gregory House M.D.)

The English (and Joey de León) have earned theirs.

When Is Baduy Really Baduy?

As a kid I used to think one-dimensionally of 'baduy'. Eating pasta with a spoon was baduy, pronouncing escargot with a T was baduy, slurping your soup and biting your spoon was baduy, wearing a blue shirt with brown pants was baduy, wearing elephant jeans and bonnets in a tropical climate was baduy. Thankfully, I've grown from that. If you're not dining with the Queen, I guess exquisite enunciation and Victorian etiquette shouldn't matter that much to the average Juan. Whatever turns you on shouldn't be my business. To each his own.

But what is baduy, really? Is it the inexpensive fashion the poor wear? Is it old people trying to crack antiquated jokes? Is it your class 'nerd' with his tucked in, buttoned up long sleeved shirt? Is it the non-Parker pen, the non-Armani suit, the mainstream music one listens to? Is it the ignorance for things 'kewwwl'? Is it the distaste for the modern, the urban, the metropolitan? Fuck no! We tend to say eww, eek, and yuck to the wrong things. What do you care about your neighbour's personal tastes?

Baduy is the absence of basic human wit and intellect. (stress on basic.) Baduy is a cheap, poor sense of culture. Basic human culture.

Baduy is 'txt tok' on an essay assignment, it's putting too many H's where there shouldn't be one in the first place, it's that no-talent trying to sing on TV selling out his dignity and the values of the young ones who idolise him, it's the people who cheer to the top of their lungs for that particular no-talent sell-out not for his singing but for his pre-ordered smile, it's two cheap cowards talking garbage about unsuspecting passers-by instead of minding their own lives, it's finding someone fall off his seat funny, it's those shows on TV that find other people's sob stories entertaining and exploit the desperate with humiliating parlor games, it's that sad excuse for a movie (read: cheap rip off) showing in a theatre near you, it's those empty plots and discussions they have on so-called talk shows. Baduy is network wars, the social climbing phonies that can't even pull off a single believable skit, it's voting someone for mayor because the bloke is cute, it's trying so hard to sport an American accent when the basic rules of grammar don't even meet satisfactory, it's boasting a Castilian pedigree when one's Malay bloodline is begging for attention (read: 99% Malay, 1% Spaniard), and so on. I could list more, though.

We have a great deal of rubbish today in the current pop culture that undoubtedly belong to the province of baduy. Trends, they are, unfortunately. I wish them death. For the sake of this dying country, I wish them a terrible, terrible death.

Raise war, people! A unique kind of war that, though may take a hundred years, will greatly diminish (if not completely stamp out) the baduyness that is the current trend of things. 'Don't be baduy' means get some culture.

Labels, Labels, Silly Labels

Gay
When people say 'Gay' they don't mean just 'men liking men'. They think Malate, San Francisco; tops and bottoms, George Michael, Cher, Maximo Oliveros, the rainbow, feather boas and leather wear, and pink shirts. Last time I checked, I've never been fond of those, so why call myself Gay?

Bi/sexual
Bisexual is something given. Almost all social animals (humans, apes, dolphins, birds) are largely bisexual in nature.

Straight
Simply put, the etymology of 'straight' suggests heterosexuality (relationships, attraction, etc) is the "right path" and its homosexual counterpart the "bent broken road". Rubbish!

Half Man
What, like a eunuch? My balls are still intact, thank you very much.

Third Sex
I'm not even going to start with how wrong this word is. We don't have pen-ginas or vag-enises.

Queen, Bitch, Girl
I have nothing against men who like to call themselves such, but if we're not that close, I think it's beyond inappropriate to call me something so misleading even if it's done jokingly. Respect my manhood as I do yours.

Queer
Although I do know that I'm strange in many ways, calling my sexuality queer is like saying my sexuality is abnormal. It isn't. Check your science.

Bakla/Bading [Philippines]
This name suggests 'transgender' (read 'woman trapped inside a man's body'). Go look up the words you intend to use before you actually use them. I'm not transgendered. I love my penis. Why embrace a word that isn't you?


That all said, do we really need all these labels? I certainly don't. I'm not Aldrin the [insert label here]-sexual or Aldrin the [insert label here] guy. I am Aldrin, full stop (period). People should be bigger than words.

Independence Day Quotes

Few people care nowadays. But more should. And since I'm too busy with work, I can only offer quotes. Nonetheless, I care. And I do something about it. When will you?

Jarius Bondoc on 'GOTCHA' (Mon, 11 Jun. 2007)

They can switch around Labor Day or National Heroes Day. But no country in the world moves its official Independence Day fête — except the Philippines. For the first time since her dad President Diosdado Macapagal asserted June 12, no longer July 4, as Freedom Day, President Gloria Arroyo is celebrating it on June 11, Monday. It’s to expediently oblige one business bloc that wants less holidays and another that wants more for tourism’s sake.

The belittling of a most historic event came in the heels of Arroyo’s entreaty to China last week to hitch RP in its development strategy. To complete the kowtowing to China, Justice Sec. Raul Gonzalez’s sneakily released also last week 24 Chinese poachers — as demanded by their embassy and against his public promise to prosecute them to the hilt.

Are they surrendering the country’s sovereignty just so China would lend $330 million for an unnecessary yet overpriced broadband network?

...
Instead of fining poachers millions of pesos each as law prescribes, and confiscating their ships and equipment, the government will return everything to them and fawningly see them off to China. No wonder it’s observing Independence Day on the wrong day.

F Sionil Jose on HINSIGHT (Sun, 4 Feb. 2007)

The colonized intellectual must first free himself, his mind most of all, from the subterfuges of the colonizer. He must recover the pristine self even if this means, as Nick Joaquin once charged, "to be an Igorot" ---as if being one is to be stigmatized. Start from the mud at our feet, from mythic incense, the life-giving impulse of the cosmos, and from this purity, recognize the inputs of history, all the precious elements that contribute to the building of a nation.

Only when the colonized has achieved this innate freedom will he then be able to assume his true identity. Otherwise, his thinking will always be a monotonous echo of the colonizer's dulcet spiel.

So it goes today: our modern ilustrados have yet to free themselves from prisons of the past, from the chains of colonialism, particularly the domestic variety. Until they recognize this bondage and oppose it, we will continue to wallow in blissful ignorance, and worse, in the muck of spiritual poverty left by the ghosts of colonialism.