This day beat the juices out of me and upon arriving at the studio today in Makati, the annoying newly bought mac computer's internet is acting up again. It's so weird that spotify works but the internet browsers couldn't even squeeze out any information from the world wide web.
I hate MACs.
It's started working again when our transient artist tinkered with it.
And to push the bumming moment to its deepest despairing level, I channeled Maria Mena through Spotify.
Listening to her tortured soul that encourages masochism and unrequited love can be quite relaxing though I don't suggest this if you are feeling emotional lest the emotion linger longer than you wanted.
I'm just glad her latest album is starting to sound less dedicated to wall-flowers and beginning to tap her thug soul.
Yes, I admit it. I'm a closet book binder. *weeps* I suppose I couldn't keep the secret any longer, since there are event information that need to be disseminated. I've been doing it for a while now and it wasn't really easy to hide. I suppose I was born a book binder and also a writer. Don't hate me...
This coming December is packed with busy weekends. Aside from attending the annual Pride March Parade, the following week I will also be showcasing my hand-bound books, shelves, poetry collection and others on December 10-11 at 10a Alabama New Manila, Quezon City.
I would appreciate you dropping by to say hi or to take a look at my books and items. Don't miss this once in a blue-moon event that celebrates handmade artifacts in local grounds.
Book Cover for Paper Monster Press (Trip-Hop + Dream-Pop issues) is also available
.
This is only a preview of the Paper Monster Press cover since I'm not done with it yet. It has no reproduction. It is a representation of how I understood its philosophy and essence. I have submitted a poem to their dream-pop issue and it is still included in my bound version. Content is mostly intact.
Limited Edition Poetry Collection by Veronica
Teaching of Buddha 137th Edition (Content) Cover is mine. I'm keeping this one.
Invisible bookshelves are also available.
Drop by the place if you haven't found the perfect gift for your friends and loved ones. There are great varieties available, grab your friends and take a tour of the place. Get to meet the ones who create these items and strike up an interesting conversation.
See you there, I'll be expecting you. :) Next post next week will preview the shelves. Abangan!
I will be at the Manila International Book Fair on September 17, 2011 to see what is happening and attend the general assembly of Filcols. For the occasion, I would also be selling the limited edition copy of my poetry collection “Sorrow is the Romanticist’s Necessary Affliction of the Soul”, a ten poem collection I wrote in the span of 6 years.
I remember last year that I was totally broke I did not have even the money to get to work, I had nothing the whole day. The fridge in the condo unit I was staying has nothing for me and I had 20 pesos in my pockets. P10 became load which zeroed out in the next ten minutes of having it since I had to tell my boss I couldn’t make it to work. I didn't lie, I told her I'm broke.
The other P10 became a piece of banana which of course disappeared within ten seconds.
The day before I had a couple of flat tops for lunch, it wasn’t filling but of course it was better than without. I couldn’t bother to call my mother in the US or any of my other siblings living a life of comfort in different corners of the globe.
I chose to stay here, to fulfill my dreams right in the soil of the motherland.
There was no other way, it was a Friday and I had to get back to my home in Laguna, it was the first and last time that my salary was delayed for a few days. I couldn’t bring myself to borrow money but of course out of hopelessness and famine I was forced to contact a friend of mine who works in Makati who was kind enough to lend me some cash. The problem was I didn’t have the money to go to Makati from Mandaluyong.
I was doomed.
But of course that was last year, at the end of the day my salary went through and I was able to go back to Laguna for the weekend.
Today, I may be experiencing the same thing. I just know that being a writer will never ever make me rich. It’s a very enduring profession but I keep telling myself that I’m not doing it for money but yes, a little bit of comfort won’t hurt and comfort would of course cost money.
F. Scott Fitzgerald, George Orwell and other writers before me have suffered as well as writers. Fitzgerald had to toil in order to support his lavish lifestyle and George Orwell hid his poverty stricken status by hiding away and keeping the bread he bought in his pockets for people might see him buying cheap bread.
This week, I found myself eating Kimchi Ramyun noodles and baked beans straight from a can.
The feeling of air-headedness starts to kick in when I haven’t been eating healthy and nutritious food. As a faithful vegetarian, I need to eat more varying vegetables in order to fulfill my daily nutritional needs, which of course were flung to the Pasig River since the beginning of the week.
I try to kill my blazing appetite with water. The fridge at my place in Katipunan only has a spread of Sugar-free orange marmalade and another bottle of molasses. It could last me another week.
Another book will be sold again this week and somehow, I consider it as a shining ray of hope to extend my days before complete famine and destituteness.
Meetings and events that requires attendance may have to be postponed which also meant that the progress of my careers would stop to a halt as well. I shall go, even if I have to pack boiled sweet potatoes for lunch.
What George Orwell and I had in common, I recently discovered, was that despite famine looming over our heads – we were able to hide it quite perfectly. He never wanted anyone to know he was a starving writer when he was in France that he couldn’t even tell his laundry maid that he had no money to pay her anymore that his maid thought he had another one doing the work for him and had conceived contempt towards him – that, he’d rather accept.
In my case, I do my own laundry because the idea of stranger going through my clothes is enough to drive to neurotic madness and yes, I also won’t pay for a service I can do better myself. No one else knows how to take care of my clothes but me alone.
Being broke and having this status burned on my skin and soul keeps me grounded. That girl that everyone’s telling me to ask out will never be asked out, for the sole reason – I can’t afford dinner. I can’t afford to pay for her fare, drive her to places and thankless tasks I would normally do for someone out of sheer honor and a tinge of pride. Because I have this ideology that frugal pocket is proportional to frugal passion and the code of etiquette for lesbians – “the asker pays for dinner”.
I also can’t entertain others when asked out, because I will always offer to go Dutch and since I can’t even afford to go Dutch then I would rather spend the evening reading books and studying new materials or writing the novel I’ve been dying to finish.
If the asker or askee insists on paying for my dinner: an epic battle will ensue.
Friends are also starting to miss me since I haven’t been able to hang out.
Poverty is like a chain and ball cuffed to my every limb. But it doesn’t necessarily mean I’m unhappy, I just know that I’ll get through this high and low state of my early-twenties life.
Highschool was a very awkward and confusing period of my life. I didn’t know how to get along well with others and I was always misunderstood. Though life was easy, I wouldn’t exchange the future for the past. There were a lot of moments that I fail to recall and I don’t feel as if I lost half of my life, I’m glad it’s over.
My dreams then were less molded and I never really wanted to be a writer. I wanted to be a game designer – which was also quite different with what I wanted when I was in elementary.
I wanted to go to Digipen University in Michigan. I told my mom about it and she said that I should prepare for everything that I would need. My relatives were already citizens in the US and after a while, half of my family followed for good.
At the age of 15 I’ve tinkered with game designing software and have created a few games for my own and my friends’ amusement. From pixel sprites to programming languages such as PEARL, RUBY and scripts, I studied them all on my own. I also launched my own first website back then for the hell of it.
One of the games I created was an RPG based game which was deliberately short in order to simply send a message. It was titled “Stringed Memories”. I still have the game with me and it can be installed on any computer as long as the Operating System is Windows (Works with Windows 7 as well despite being created almost ten years ago) If you want the game, message me and I will give you the installer setup file which was about 20 Megabytes.
The game starts with a little story, sequence or cut scene and you can control the character easily. Roam around a fictitious town/world I created and talk to people who represent real people that I know. Each time you talk to a person is a message I want to send out. Sometimes a poem or just a mere story would be told by 2 dimensional characters I’ve taken the pain to create by painting every pixel.
Why do all this you ask? I did it because I was in love or I don’t know, maybe I just really have a wild imagination and was driven to certain creative lengths under the illusion of liking someone. There was a girl in highschool and that girl every summer, would go to another country for the whole period. I didn’t just want to send her a simple letter or e-mail so I went ahead and created an RPG game for her. Yes, I’m monumental and perhaps it was a way on how I could release this modern romantic part of me that’s dying to come out.
I was also a member of the High-school art club with Zeus Bascon and thought perhaps I could also divert to illustration and cartooning. I also made comics on the side. This art club of ours was in charge of any visual artistic creation necessary for any sort of production in school – from the theatrical productions down to several school events, we’ve won several competitions against the local and regional schools in the province.
I did a lot of crazy things back then and what does this has to do with me answering the questions of my followers and readers? This is merely a small portion of my life that may or may not have mattered at all. The context of it I believe would not at all be very similar to another human being. I will answer all questions according to what my life has taught me in the past and the present.
Moving on here are the questions I’ve answered and not answered personally so I’m answering them right here. I would like to say that I’m very happy and touched warmly by those who bought my book and were kind enough to send out a feedback.
Veronica, I keep reading one of your poems [Breaking Silence] and this question seems to plague me. I do believe in forever but how do I prevent two people from getting tired of loving each other? I don’t want to fall in the dull routine of relationships where love seems to fade away.
-Falling Out Girl
I have accidentally deleted the original question so I tried to dig up my mind and hopefully my half-dead neurons served me just right. I also added a cheesy anonymous pseudonym if you don’t mind.
Love is a very complex matter and I for one can’t exactly answer that. I am not an oracle of love I’m afraid.
I always loved the movie “Big Fish” with Ewan Mcgregor. It was about a cynic man’s dying idealistic and romantic father. It’s very inspiring and heartwarming and I don’t mind watching it over and over. I won’t get tired of it. I do recommend watching it.
The father believed in courage, justice and undying love which seem to prove true with the story. He did love the guy’s mother forever or until his last breath. The father never cheated despite a woman spreading her legs before him – that’s right! In the face of temptation and a chance of ill-devotion he turned his back and said he loves his wife! Don’t worry he could be the real life’s unicorn but there are people out there who would do the same – *cough* like me *cough*.
Before he married his wife he actually worked for a circus because he wanted to know more about the girl who he’ll marry someday. His pay at the circus only consist of one fact each month about the girl such as “She likes daisies” - upon hearing such information the father would giggle and his eyes would sparkle with fulfillment and he scooped up elephant feces and cleaned disgusting cages for years just to get enough information about the girl. He seemed like a guy in a cheesy movie – because he IS.
Too bad they didn’t have google or facebook back then where you can easily check someone’s profile and almost everything will be laid out for you. No more scooping of elephant or buffalo dung, it’s easy!
If you are as naïve, as romantic as the father in the movie and are a strong believer of everlasting love then why doubt your own emotions for another person? And why doubt the other’s emotions and affections as well? Just a small spark of doubt is enough for the fortress of love to burn to the ground, meaning – You alone could be the reason why love fade away - subconsciously.
This is nothing more than a worry that you shouldn’t be concerned with, the future is nothing to be worried about. If you have her at present then show your undying love and affection. Do this everyday for the rest of your days forever.
Don’t stay too long at downe (Downelink) it will eat you ok?
I thought the whole purpose of joining Downelink was to be eaten.
Thank you for the advice. I have a downelink account because people there are actually interesting such as – they are great readers. Their online inhibitions are less limited. It’s also fascinating how my friends’ behavior on facebook and downelink are very much different. I believe certain anonymity in Downelink plays a great part.
Hi, if I send you a message will you return it?
Sure thing.
Where can I get your books?
Unfortunately, no bookstores are carrying them yet. I’m still struggling to get my books out there. I’ve sold advanced copies to people who were previously avid readers. But I will let you guys know when you can grab a copy. Do send me a message.
I hope I made sense and if things blow up in your face by following my advice please don’t blame me.
My childhood friend Zeus Bascon invited me to go to a road trip with his family over the weekend. It was a long and fun drive to Quezon from Sta. Rosa Laguna. The plan was to have a picnic there.
I was already at their place at 7am which isn’t bad since I live 5 minutes away from their house if I were driving a car. His mom said we start by 7am and I hate being late at any event.
When I came over last Friday I took the bike with me instead of the car, my 10 year old cousin gave me a bike since he bought a new one. Now I have a small bicycle altered to accommodate my size.
The handle bar and seat were heightened so I could pedal and maneuver the bike comfortably and it was also painted chrome.
I stuffed the bike in my trunk in case the terrain in Quezon is good enough for biking. Unfortunately I was unable to use it since the place was too rugged and mountainous. There was absolutely no way of enjoying my mini bike in the area, such a shame.
It wasn’t easy to drive to the place especially if you’re carrying 5 other people in my really old car, or my mom’s car, the back seat was packed with 4 people making it very hard to go uphill and I think after the trip I would have to get Ula, the car, checked. I should have told them not to overload the car, I thought there would only be two people at the back.
Since the stereo was busted we resorted to improvising, so the song we all sang to was…
Classic.
I cooked spaghetti with mushroom and tofu, I already know that I can’t eat whatever they’re having since the diet of a vegetarian is typically unheard of in Filipino families. But thankfully they’re starting to realize that I don’t eat meat anymore. Someone cooked fried eggplants, I was grateful.
Tiaong was a mountainous place in Quezon and people there speak in a rather funny accent that is almost similar to the people of Batangas.
There where overwhelming amount of vegetation and trees. There were corn shrubs, a few of them I accidentally run over since there was absolutely no road to follow. I also happen to rear a coconut tree but since the terrain was absolutely incorrigible it was a miracle I was able to park somewhere.
There was also a river at the northern end of the place so all of us have decided to take a look.
Floating plastics, foil wrappers can be found on the side of the creek and on its surface. I have never seen a really clean river in the Philippines so I wasn’t surprised although there were fishes and soft-shell turtles living in the river.
Unfortunately they are in grave danger since the people around the area heartlessly shoot them. We saw a man fishing with a spike like equipment and he didn’t even let a small fish, about 4 inches long, go. He shot the poor creature, as though it would really fill him up when he eats it. I think a boiled sweet potato would have filled his stomach more and he wouldn’t have to bother swimming around, not to mention having to endure the searing sun.
While playing my double-reed harmonica in an upbeat tune which Zeus said sounded like Huckleberry fin-ish but I aptly named the tune “An Ode to Maria Makiling” (A fairy, nymph or deity in Laguna – particularly in Los Baǹos) we marched from a hill to the river banks and started to dip our feet in the shallow part of the river, feeling the strong cool stream.
The sun was too harsh so I retreated under a shade of tree and sat on a boulder, playing continuously with the harmonica just at the side of the river bank.
It wasn’t long when we heard a sort of explosion not too far from the river.
“That’s a gunshot” said Zeus’ sister and later on, her husband came in saying someone was shooting a turtle on the other side of the river. Dismayed by such news I quickly stood up and placed my harmonica at the back pocket of my denim shorts.
I saw Zeus dragging a log near the side of river, saying he could do something with the beautiful log. It seems that he wants to take it home to Laguna and take it to the car. I told him he’s not carrying that 60 kilo log to my car and he should just leave it here and come back for it next time.
“It’ll be gone by then” he reasoned.
“Tie it to a tree” I said.
He asked his brother-in-law to help him carry the log but it proved to be heavy. “There’s someone shooting down turtles at the other side of the river, we need to stop him. Drop the log, it’s already dead but the turtle is alive and we need to save it!” I told him.
“Fine.” He said, dropping the log and the two men followed me uphill to the other side where the shots originated.
Upon reaching the other side of the river, we had to go downhill but it was too steep. I was waiting for Zeus to dash down but it took him a while to figure out how he could go down the bottom unscathed. I followed quickly after, dashing below and not a bit troubled by what would happen.
If I had to shield the turtle with my body – in a heartbeat I would, although my heart does have the tendency to skip beats.
The new ground was near a cliff where there were tall weeds and shrubbery, a little bit of clumsiness and we'll definitely fall on the river. Not knowing what you’re stepping on will increase the possibility of plummeting down the river below.
Another shot came and we were sure it was pretty close.
I looked around and saw the guy, whom Zeus’ father was talking to earlier.
I thought perhaps we can ask him where the guys shooting the turtle down can be found.
As we drew closer to his position, at the edge of the cliff – I saw him raise his arms holding a .45 caliber and fired a few more shots.
“I got it! It’s a big one!” the idiot said.
It was too late, I saw the turtle a bit smaller than a car tire sank at the bottom of the river about less than a 100 meters in distance. We were at the edge of the cliff and below would be the river, about 8 feet below.
“There! Saw that huge green shell sinking?” he said.
“Where?! Where?!” Zeus said
I was offended gravely. “Why did you kill the turtle?” I asked him.
“We eat them.” He said.
“Well, aren’t you going to get your kill?” I asked again.
“That part of the river is very deep. Deeper than the bamboos you see” he said, “I’ll just let it go and let it surface on some shore” he gave a smirk as though he felt he was so awesome.
It seems he has no plans of fetching his kill, he’s not planning to eat the turtle. He just shot it for target practice and he’s old enough to know that what he’s doing is wrong. He’s not retarded not to know, he has no excuse – he’s just an ignoramus who thinks we will be impressed by what he was doing.
Is he trying to tell us in a way that he has a gun?
“Poor creature” Zeus and I said.
We told the ignoramus that these turtles looked like pawikans or sea green turtles and they are endangered species but he said they are soft shell turtles (much to Zeus’ disappointed he won’t be able to get any turtle shells)
The ignoramus guy said “They are endangered in your place, but here it isn’t.”
Oh and that makes it right to shoot them? I thought, only a buffoon would reason that.
“At this rate they will be endangered” I said.
“Look there’s another one” the brother-in-law said, we all looked to the direction and saw a small young turtle about 8 inches in diameter. The soft-shell turtle reared its head on the surface of water to take a few breaths. We can clearly see its body on the water, wiggling its stubby fat legs to float.
The ignoramus guy once again aimed at the turtle and commenced on pulling the trigger.
“No!! Stop!” I was about to grab the gun from him but I halted when he looked at me very surprised and lowered his gun.
“If you’re going to eat them, I’ll give you money so you can buy food at the market. Just don’t kill them.” I said.
Imagine a guy around my age going to shoot an innocent poor creature that emerged from the bottom of the river simply to take amounts of oxygen in order to continue its harmless life but would only be shot down.
“Huh? What?” he said. He was surprised at what I said.
“How do they taste like?” Zeus asked.
“They taste like beef” he said.
Liar, I haven't tasted turtles but I don't think they taste like beef. Soft-shell turtles as what my office-mate told me were the turtles used in soup.
I didn’t have any homicidal thoughts against the man at that time but I do want him to stop, but what chance do I have when he has a gun and I only have a double-reed harmonica?
There was silence and the turtle after taking sufficient amounts of breath retreated back to the bottom of the river. The creature is safe for now, I thought to myself.
We left the guy at the cliff and I told him to not kill them anymore. He didn’t say anything and we left.
Zeus told me about cultural boundaries, that I can’t just tell people to stop what they’re doing if it has become part of their culture. Uh-huh shooting down turtles with a .45 caliber is very cultural, I wonder if they have a “Let’s shoot down soft-shell turtles” festival.
Then again, if it were, I don’t care if I’m crossing cultural boundaries if I could save a turtle’s life.
It is immoral no matter how I look at it.
Zeus said we need to educate these people and I agree, but I wasn’t in the mood to lecture the buffoon with the gun and tell him about global warming, endangered species and that shooting any living creature down is not right – when in fact he ought to know these things. Is that gun even registered?
“He’s not going to eat the turtle, he’s just practicing his aim” said Zeus’ brother in law.
True, how is he going to fetch his kill when it sank more than 10 feet below the surface of water? Would he really take the time to wait for it on the shore when that is so uncertain? How many more turtles has he killed and how many more will die?
No other living creature in this world has the capability to be such monsters than humans, all other animals will only harm a human when provoked or threatened. They would never ever harm anything out of pleasure.
Hunting in several regions on earth would be acceptable. The English before would shoot down foxes since these animals harm their stocks and farms. They would collect the hunted fox and make use of its hide. But why shoot down a turtle when it’s harmless, it already has a slowed motion, why else shoot it?
A bear would never attack or scratch a human just so he could sharpen his claws.
After a while we went back home. I’m sure that guy has done it a lot of times and I’m not going to stand here thinking about those poor creatures getting shot for mere target-practice.
I will try to contact PAWS or DENR if I had to. Or even PETA, although I don’t really like PETA but the circumstance is asking for it. PETA is too extreme, too intense for my taste.
I don’t want to go marching down holding planks or sign-boards. I may need to consult my friends for help on this one.
There were people who killed animals and made fun of animals that spread all over the news like the kid who hanged a puppy by the ear and the one in UP who stepped on a kitty - those aren't even close to what I've witnessed. I literally saw an adult man gun down an innocent creature who has no chance of fighting back.
Anyway here’s a video for PETA from Bullshit (I love this show)
I have a lot of reasons why I’m vegetarian and when I was in college, torturing animals was the last reason why I was following this diet to heart but it doesn't exactly mean I don't care about animals at all - I just have better reasons in being a vegetarian than just mere compassion towards animals.
Please don't tell me to eat meat, I will eat meat if I want to - thank you.
Do watch the PETA Bullshit show and know more a bit about PETA who wants to shut down Manila Zoo.
The emotion that most of my contemporaries are prone to experience and commit, for the rarest time in my life I am under its spell.
Or the animal, which is considered to be the slowest moving mammal in the world.
I don’t remember what happened in the past few weeks but I’ve travelled quite a lot which ironically made me feel so idle. Or I am once again procrastinating?
Although I’ve made a pledge to write more and start some of my projects, once again, my well calculated scrupulous schedule sank down the drain. No surprise there.
Since a friend of mine will leave for Australia for half a year, my friends, terrified of not seeing her for a long time, panicked and have decided to see each other more often.
If once a week wasn’t enough. As the youngest of the group (All of them at least 32 years old) I took it as my duty to schedule our meetings, dates, adventures and even ob-gyne and dental appointments. Emergency meetings also seem to fall under my department…
But recently I’ve abandoned the responsibility so they’ve been trying to organize things by themselves since I’m awfully swamped with other things to do.
Such excellent taste has directed us to visit the Pinto Art Museum in Antipolo City.
I’ve been dying to go to that Museum for weeks, there was also an earlier schedule of me going there with other friends but was tragically cancelled due to laziness, also associated with sloth.
After an art and culture filled weekend the next weekend was spent in Olongapo City where I thought I would be able to work on my projects and writing backlogs.
I spent it eating and preparing raw vegan food, which isn’t really a bad compromise but the progress of my work is of course on halt.
Seeing different set of friends is sort of exhausting… I miss myself.
