art. artsy fartsy.

i would have wanted to acquire a record of the drunken conversation that just recently occurred. badly. i would have posted its transcription here.


sad and hurting pieces of conversations. the kind that strips you naked and peels your skin off, slowly, strip by strip. then the bangkero leaves and lets you bleed to death. Bangkero, who i will refer here to a very imaginative name "B", also left one exposed and helplessly vulnerable, considering that in the world he is in, he was at the pedestal. a pedestal built and created for by his own legion of devotees who probably also lacked exposure to battery of criticisms and rejections. their world revolved around their shaky walls of love, sugar-coated adoration and exoticism for something that could closely resemble the sound of ben lee if not for its third world or in politically correct terms, developing countries, origin. or may be not. my world and knowledge are also limited, but definitely not shaky.


B wins. He on the other hand plummeted down to #327 or god knows what rank. When B is drunk and i make him laugh he tells me i've just shoot to #9. then i smile.


B repeatedly railed at him for his subliminal (OR IS IT???) adherence to americanism or american hegemony. he did want -- i felt it, really i did -- to start an intellectual discussion on culture but neither did B nor i want to start it. B, perhaps because he was drunk. i because i only discuss those matters to people i know know how to discuss them. after all, somebody once called me an intellectual snob. but i never were. i'm just the quiet type.

american hegemony. i am reminded by e. san juan's.


truth is, i just really really feel sad for the artsy fartsies and for those who could not live with what there only is. in the case of most artsy fartsy i know, they could not live with what Iloilo ONLY has to offer. I have lived here for more than half my age. My son was born here. He will be an Ilonggo whether he likes it or not.


Iloilo was not artsy enough for Fritz so he left to better his art and his artistic lifestyle. he is 30 years old. never finished his university education. never had a real job. never also had an odd job. does not plan on getting a real job. will take an odd job if it would live up to his artistic expectations. as far as i could remember he mostly lived off his monthly allowance courtesy of his mother who is based on the USA. definitely a trust fund baby who is a baby no more. he hated Iloilo because he couldnt get a taxi home at night. Nobody would stop for him. he looks like your typical rastafarian only that he's not rasta but a dreadlocked 30ish male, mutated hindu-filipino pagan fanatic. he left for manila because manila has everything then moved to davao because davao was big and artsy but also left eventually because he couldn't find confidantes there. he went back to manila because manila has so many books and arts films and art shows and artistic people and his talents and network could definitely broaden if he were in manila. he goes back to iloilo if he is problem loaded. i surmise he'll be back. soon.


Iloilo of course is not and won't be like other places. The reason why any artsy fartsy will not or cannot just pull of a street show whenever or wherever they want to is because Iloilo lacked the anonymity which most places or big cities where these street shows are easily pulled off by other artsy fartsies definitely offer. And they come in big shiny packages. ANONYMITY gives you power to do anything you want. And i mean anything -- and that is the reason why these people do street shows. Nobody really does anything without a reason. Many would beg to disagree but altruism, for example is not giving for the sake of giving -- it's giving to get rid of the guilt for being filthy rich and not having enough stuff to spend money on. similarly, these art guys do not do art for the sake of art -- it's art for ego. definitely you'd rather that other people you are not related by at least 4 degrees appreciate your art and blow up your ego and not your relatives. definitely you'd rather do street shows in places where anonymity is a norm rather than a privilege. definitely you'd think twice of doing street shows in iloilo where you meet a classmate or a neighbor every 10th step you take.


(do you know ninotchka rosca has this really wonderful blog?)


i did not drink enough, by the way, to get drunk. just a bottle of san miguel beer light. B on the other hand took about 1250 ml red horse beer and maybe some more before PF and I arrived to start our session. PF also had 1250 ml red horse. beer and green mango and P12.00 balut and chicharon and later a much cheaper balut, only P10.00, from a kid not older than 10 years old. The lady who sold P12.00 balut said she got so drunk she threw her baby over the bridge. maybe she was drunk when she sold us the eggs. B loves green mangoes and beer. i love nothing more than to get drunk on conversations, and perhaps later, on beer, inside the safe though stinky walls of M while we laugh at the other people's pretensions and false worlds of make believe.

we are so cruel.

postscript

Iloilo also does not have starbucks. AND I HOPE THAT THESE PEOPLE DO NOT COME TO ILOILO ASKING WHY WE DO NOT HAVE STARBUCKS. or a fucking eastwood for that matter. go to hell. don't go to iloilo for chrissakes.

the endless.

...because i am not able to write a decent entry for the past weeks
...because i am not busy with "to do's"so i relaxed, relaxed, and relaxed all the way
...because i wanted to change my desktop background
...because i have to photocopy that 600-paged traffic management book as per instruction: "1 page for 2 original pages and double sided to save paper and thickness"
...because i also have to make copies of the final traffic survey, road inventory and capability survey report as per instruction also: "Make necessary copies with double-sided. Only one copy of Annex for each LGU and Traffic Police. Only Main Report for others."
...because i can't seem to get the copier work the way i want it
...because the copier is becoming dumb and dumber
...because the writing workshop facilitated by ALFREDO B. DIAZ scheduled today was postponed and i learned about it when i was about to get off the jeepney and run to Infante gate of UP-Iloilo City because i was 48 minutes late late late gad gad gad now alfredo wants me to give him some free lunch
*****his middle name is bayonete. boy, doesn't that sound violent?****
...because i couldn't find an mp3 of Susanna Hoff's "All i want" song
...because i think i would really change my desktop background
...because our Filipino consultant has finally resigned
...because our JICA PFA's contract has expired and she will be replaced by a new PFA in the next fiscal year in May
...because GLORIA has not yet resigned
...because i couldn't find a good IM for firefox
...because i have a lot of things to learn. really, now.
...because
...because

Reunion

Heath Ledger died at 28. 10 years ago I watched my last movie in Manila with a heavy heart. It starred him. It was my last semester at UP Manila as a student. My application for transfer at the UP Miag ao remains vague. Next semester I could end up anywhere; a depressed university student or a drop out. That teeny booper movie was memorable to me.

Kurt Cobain died 14 years ago.

I survived the age of 27 because I had a baby.

Layne Staley died in 2002.

Shannon in 1998.

I half expected Evan Dando to die before the turn of the millennium but he didn’t. His belly just got bigger and his face much fatter. He just got uglier. It may be similar to dying as his face used to be one of the most beautiful rock and roll faces ever launched.

Now, I wanted to see my friend who I haven’t seen for two years to tell her about this recent death of the (rock) stars that made a mark or two in my /our life(ves).

But she was busy.

I wanted to tell her about the things I have found out. Of my realizations and promises I made with myself.

When we were fourteen and heartbroken over Kurt Cobain’s death, we were also half expecting we wouldn’t reach the age of 27 alive. 27 was sooo far away and all we had were hazy plans of the future. We didn’t even know what to take in the university.

Now, we were just busy. Every time she’s home she’s busy with her mother. And I am always busy with something else. Then it was chasing plans now it was playing with the baby.

I wish we would just stop being busy.

By the time she’s back all of these would be gone and I would have nothing to tell her except maybe how I have missed the taste of alcohol and Melly’s, and the sidewalks along General Luna, especially in UP. These lousy city planners are stealing our youth and our memories.

I wanted to tell her how I loathe the newly constructed flyover that is obstructing our university’s façade. I wanted to tell her how hurt I have been from seeing all the trees in the city being fell down, one by one, by the lousy planners. I wanted to tell her my reasons for going back to school: I wanted to save all those trees and the sidewalks…Because when we were young we were passionate about the environment. I remained passionate. I don’t know about her. The last time she came home she just went to the parlor and didn’t go out for three days because her newly rebounded hair couldn’t be washed and she couldn’t go out without make up and washed hair.

I wanted to tear my hair off my head the way those lousy planners tore the fire trees off the once lovely and historic General Luna.

free again.

they have left.

now i have time to listen to ben lee.

and think about the things i have been looking forward to my 2-month holiday:
1. beach
2. netsurfing
3. the 9am office time in
4. the 1630 office time out
5. weekend dates with my husband and my baby
6. running.