Wednesday, August 27, 2014

Hero Horreur

Manila-National Heroes Day on a Monday

Every year the entire country is forcibly fed "yellow fever." This happens every Ninoy Aquino Day, a day that's supposed to be a day of remembrance for a "martyr" is actually a governmentally-induced propaganda tool and nothing else. Ninoy Aquino Jr. is no hero. He is an ambitious delusional political opportunist, not evil attributes per se, but don't make your way to Islas Filipinas forewarned and offered by the country's conjugal dictatrice-by your former lover no less-a private jet for your own safety, and expect to make it in our utterly uncreative 500 peso banknote without expecting an eyebrow raised. 

To Ninoy: Your oligarchical family won't be able to get away with everything you have inflicted on the Filipino people for long. Your vanishment to the annals of history is yet to arrive. You, along with the other oligarchs, feudal lords, and triads of this country, will one day wither as if having never existed, and only then shall the true heroes triumph, after that glorious day comes. 

Today, I ventured into this country's relatively glorier heyday, a trip down memory lane, the collective memory of the Filipino people. I love Luneta, something that surprises most people I meet, as in this country, heavily clouded by post-colonial thought, and barbaric outlooks, the Rizal Park is seen as a no-go for the "middle" to "upper classes" (and the wannabes) as it is perceived as frequented by the "lower classes". It is seen as something degrading. I think otherwise because this is the one and only place in this heavily-polluted-Third-World-city that actually resembles civility, harmony, and peace. The beauty of the place owing to its size, variety of sights and people, and juxtapositional-paradox are among the many attributes that can give one a sense of awe. History, and art, intermingling in such a vast space, how more beautiful can it be?

Notwithstanding the heroic survivalism present in this country, I'm nevertheless convinced that ideas such as national heroes, and national hymns, being products of nation-states, are inherently evil. I prefer people to determine for themselves who they consider as their hero/heroes.

Saturday, August 16, 2014

Book Gifts

I would like to express my deepest appreciation for these gifts, and more for the nature of these gifts. There is no greater gift than knowledge. The value of education (formal and informal) can never be underestimated or dismissed. There are no other gifts that I appreciate more than books, objet d'arts, jewelry, and money. These four things along with intangible acts of trust, kindness, and love, are truly vital in our direction forward. 

Sometimes, he was way to deterministic, sometimes a humble man admitting the impossibility of determinism in any work. Generally, it is not esoteric in its presentation of  its positions. The book left me with much more questions than answers, a mark of a truly great book. A book hard  to put down, for its insightful information and appropriate examples. It's a wonderful addition to the growing ways one can understand another.  

To understand the West, one must examine one of its fundamentals. To understand our past, we must know how we got here. Above all, the value of the Classics can't be put aside as mere excessive introspection and retrospection, it is our key to the present. 

The excessive fetishization of modern German philosophy, and its French counterparts, have lead the world to where we are today. Therefore, to rewind a bit, let's refresh, shall we?

Thursday, August 14, 2014

P-Noy/Noy-Noy the Liar

Taken from

What I have curated here is information from the mainstream media evidencing the deceit that's inherent in our country's president. The son of landed aristocrats, entangled with cronies, and above all- of the oligarchs, this country has for so long tolerated and allowed them to rule over "us."

I recently attended a seminar by TFDP where they shared facts and figures that reveled the President's lie during his recent State of the Nation Address. He said there were none anymore, but actually they're so many, and they're on the hundreds. 

A little sing-along for Nitoy.

The representative of TFDP beside Kuya Boyet, a former political detainee, and victim of government torture under the Cory Aquino Regime.

Me with a former political detainee (Kuya Boyet) who became such during the reign of the current president's mother, "democracy-icon" Cory Aquino, and was released during the Ramos-era. Yes, I'm wearing a Communist star with Mao's face on it, on my head to raise awareness on the excesses Mao exhibited in the People's Republic of China. Just like the HIV/AIDS Red Ribbon pin, Communist pins must be worn to show solidarity towards those who have been victims of the disease of Communism, Socialism, Volkism, Statism, Tribalism, and above all the most fashionable malady du jour, the Mixed-Economy, the natural haven of the cronies.

Annie Leibovitz Break

When I found out there was gonna be a retrospective-exhibit of one of my favorite photographers (dead and alive), I wasted no time in securing an audience. Annie Leibovitz is an artist. The snobs are simply jealous of her success therefore denigrate her style and her work. Fashion magazines (at least the good ones) are tasked to provide us (the masses) a middle ground between high and low art. Most importantly, they are mandated to show us what is possible instead of what is real, to gather all possible resources to show (even a nuanced one) a new perspective of something we thought we can no longer get anything out of. The romantic imperative, the struggle against nature, few achieve. 

Her brother is so hot!

The space couldn't have been more appropriate for such a titan that she is.

Unfortunately, no pictures are allowed to be taken inside. So maximized the calorific value outside. 


Our time's primary means of evidence, the selfie!

Spectacularity was upon my sight.

Stunning staircase! Could I just die? Believe me, my amateurish shot couldn't do justice to the actual view and feel (don't forget the effect the temperature has) when one ascends and/or descends coupled with the view of the top or below, simply awe-inspiring. 

人民公社 People's Recreation Community

Discovered her inspiring passion and persistence inside the seat pocket of my seat, on my way to HK.

Just plain stunning and surely an art-piece.

Inside my hotel suite at the InterContinental Grand Stanford.

I love the way the light hits my skin.

The view.

All my thanks to the person who made this possible. Thanks for the gift!

Lost in Translation-moment vis-a-vis selfie. I love how petite I look.

My newly shaved legs. Another Lost in Translation moment.

I just love views.

Various original pins affirming loyalty to the party. Beautiful and haunting.

I love the aura that surrounded the place, a certain haven of truth.

Mainland tourist or local? 

Original mementos from the bygone era.

Yes, Big Brother is watching you!

On my way out, I realized the aesthetic quality and effect the scarcity of Hong Kong real estate has.

The Sign.

The validation.

Hong Kong people are famous for their rude reputation, I don't think so. To me, they will always be the representation of ruthless efficiency. They're unpretentious. Harsh even at times. But necessary in our world of continuing bourgeois decadent facade-ism. I welcome their originality, and hard-work. I detest their racism, myopia, generalizing-tendecies, and cronyism. I adore their fancy/stylish/paradoxical streets. Above all, their cruelty towards "others" must stop! Wake up! Please do so ASAP, as I love your "country" /city-state/unique legal status-ed land very much! Looking forward to my next visit!

Exposés of China's Elite a Big Lure in Hong Kong - The New ...

Sunday, August 3, 2014

Convalescing on Paglia, Tolstoy, and Kubrick

Warning to those who have been rained upon by Manila's evaporated from polluted water rain, who are thinking of doing a cake-out just like the one I had earlier this week, bring an umbrella, to make sure your immune-system's not compromised! Also make sure you have enough sleep (who has?) and eat enough. That was the advice given to me by one of my favorite doctors. When he saw me nauseous and totally weak, his first remark when I entered his well decorated doctor's office was how "unusual" I looked. 

As he correctly observed, the sore throat I woke up with yesterday wasn't unusual, what was, was my fever, a type I haven't experienced in years. I instantly felt like my elementary self, feeling the need to rush towards the clinic. The whole day yesterday was a nightmare. I felt like I was dying! I wished for some moments that I was in sedation via heavy barbiturates, just for the nasty dizziness to go away. Grateful that I woke up this morning sans fever. I just need to finish my antibiotic regime. I hope I don't get the superbug, this is like my fourth-regime of antibiotics this year already!

My doctor and I discussed this cake place I raved about and vowed he'd pay a pilgrimage there, as he didn't indict Chocolat as the cause of my illness, rather my "mismanagement of stress," "lack of sleep," and "inadequate proper diet." "Juice your vegetables, eat your fruits." Got it! 

This is one of the first Sundays ever wherein I didn't take a stroll outside or went window-shopping or people-watched or met with friends. I stayed at home. I don't regret it. I had a fabulous day. It started with lessons from Camille Paglia, whom I adore, though I'm yet to read her book Sexual Personae. Before lunch I continued reading Leo Tolstoy's War and Peace, definitely liking it more than Anna Karenina. Spent the afternoon on a Stanley Kubrick marathon, I watched online 2001: A Space Odyssey and A Clockwork Orange.
My prescription-meds.

"Not a novel, even less is it a poem, and still less a historical chronicle."-Tolstoy

An amazing, independent thinker, orator, intellectual, and professor.

Stanley on the set of 2001. A genre was born, thanks to this artist.

Forewarned: A Clockwork Orange is the reality we might face if the current Kantianism continues. 

Friday, August 1, 2014

Under the Skin

Before I share my review of Under the Skin, I shall first give a picture of what I did and witnessed before I was exposed to this another Johansson masterpiece, my fourth favorite, the others being, Lost in Translation, Vicky Cristina Barcelona, and Don Jon

Re-stocked my vitamin hoard. Melatonin is so helpful, and it's gratifying to know how medical journals have been very supportive of its use.

"Eureka!" This cake is so yummy-and cheap-that I've eaten five different cake slices of theirs in just a span of 5-days.

All the five I've tasted are marvelous! A MUST! Non of their creations are too sweet, nor too bland. Perfect balance.

The sunset-view from Mall of Asia is simply stunning.

What a wonder!

Another Chocolat-session. Sigh at the lusciousness of their drug.

Mouth-watering display of the goods.

    This Got Under My Skin
The film was about 40 minutes in when the two women both left. These two women were a bit noisy in a manner I decided to be barbaric. After around 10 minutes later, a group consisting of three people left as well. I wasn't surprised at their philistine-ish response to Jonathan Glazer's loose adaptation of Michel Faber's 2000-novel. I figured it was a normal response to an art film, I guessed, "if such acts happen in Venice, why not in Manila?" 

The film was a sic-fi art film, that centered on an alien woman, in the form of the voluptuous Johansson, who mysteriously seduce men from the Scottish streets of urban decay. While some unknown co-conspirant is in a constant motorcycle drive-through around the deserted drizzly roads of the suburbs and the country. This transpires while Mica Levi's music was at times scary-to the point of asphyxiation-but mostly provoking in a way that gave you a romantic weltanschauung of the outer space. 

While I was inside the cinema the thoughts that were running through my mind were, maybe this is what it's like to be an immigrant during the 60s for some? Maybe her English accent was meant as a metaphor for the "occupation" of Scotland? Was this movie making a political statement on the upcoming Scottish independence referendum? If so, what was it saying? Perhaps what happened to Scarlett's character is revealing? After I saw the film, I immediately read the reviews from and then read other review articles, as I couldn't quite settle with my general thoughts. I knew I liked the film, I definitely was mesmerized by its music, but somehow I needed someone else's point-of-view to help me out.