Tuesday, April 15, 2008

Gray Pursuit

Living in solitude of darkness
Emptiness haunts me with distress
Forsake the shadow of memory
Look for the worthwhile key
Which will open the door of gladness

20 January 2002
12:30pm

Tuesday, March 18, 2008

A quote from "The Little Prince"

"Grown-ups never understand anything for themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them."

- from The Little Prince,
Antoine de Saint-Exubery

Monday, March 03, 2008

Inquirer Northern Luzon --- Going rocKapampangan By Tonette Orejas (Philippine Daily Inquirer First Posted 22:16:00 02/26/2008)

ANGELES CITY – When the band Asthma performed “Atin Ku Pung Singsing,” it wasn’t in Mon David jazz or the Sapni Nang Crissot’s classic or the ArtiSta. Rita’s ballad. It was rock – boisterous and heavy on the rhythm.
The concert, staged on Feb. 18, was, as the youth visual art group Kapangulis hailed on the theater backdrop, “RocKapampangan: The Birth of Philippine Kapampangan Rock.”
The 16 bands proved this to be a real breakthrough.
Thirteen transformed the polosa (extemporaneous songs) of Pampanga’s rural masses into rock songs. In this league were Fourth Clan (Dayang Kapampangan), Tibuan (Sintang Pangarap), Chilimansi (Istorya nang Raffy Balboa), 5 Against the Wall (Sibul na ning Arayat), Mental Floss (Ing Lugud ning Indu), Neophytes (Katatagan ning Pamakilaban), THEM (Kasamsaman), Cyclo (Dalumdum ning Bengi), Amygdala (Aldo ning Kekami Kasal), Silence (Indulang Balayan), Pulse Rhythm (Saug a Malati) and Fine Time (40 Aldo).
Dialogo gave rock form to “Atsing Rosing,” an old courtship song. Two bands – the Nora Aunor Fans Club and Mernuts – composed two originals, “Kaplas” and “Aliwa ka Talaga.”
Their performances attracted a large young crowd. The venue, the Holy Angel University’s Plaza San Jose, was jampacked.
Branding the “harvest” as rocKapampangan was right enough, said Jason Paul Laxamana, the director of what he called the first-of-its-kind project by his group, the Kalalangan Kamaru.
The bands used the Kapampangan language and folk music, and drew subjects from the local context, said Laxamana, who calls himself an “independent cultural worker trying to finish my senior sociology course at the University of Philippines in Diliman.”
“Doing this music is a first step in developing the Kapampangan consciousness. These bands showed an interest in the language, which is hardly used now in day-to-day conversation,” he said.

Bridge to youth
Opening the concert, he spoke the native language: “The promotion of our culture does not rely on one person or one group. It relies on us, the young generation.” RocKapampangan then, he said, was a way of reaching out to the youth, a sort of bridge to those growing up largely on western music.
His dream? Kapampangan music would enjoy heavy playing on iPods and MP3s.
Ram Nulud, vocalist of the Nora Aunor Fans Club, said: “It used to be baduy (awkward) to sing in Kapampangan. Apagmaragul mu ne man (You can really be proud of it).”
For Mernuts, a band of three girls and three boys based in Tarlac City, the crossover to the Kapampangan language began as a “katuwaan (for fun).” Through them, Beyonce Knowles’ “Irreplaceable” got a Kapampangan version on YouTube in March 2007.
“Aliwa ka Talaga” was composed two weeks before the album was recorded. “We also want to express the Kapampangan influence,” said guitarist Chao Chua.
Whether the native consciousness has seeped in or is still in its infancy, those who have gone before them were all praises. Andy Alviz, composer and artistic director of the ArtiSta. Rita, said, “Finally, the local music landscape attracted younger artists.”
Totoy Bato, the most popular in Pampanga’s thinning army of polosador (singers of extemporaneous songs), appealed to the listeners. “Suportan yu la sana reneng bandang Kapampangan (I hope you support these Kapampangan bands),” he said.
Local historian Mike Pangilinan was pleased. “It’s a breakthrough kasi sibukan da (they tried the form). They did not sound like copycats.”
And how do you explain the photograph, circa 1899, of the Macabebe Scouts, the people recruited by the Americans to capture Gen. Emilio Aguinaldo, on the CD cover?
“With their long hair and defiant, maverick attitude, the Macabebe Scouts were history’s original rockers. The album is a tribute to them. They’ve always been misunderstood by society, just like today’s rockers,” said Robby Tantingco, executive director of the HAU Center for Kapampangan Studies.
Copyright 2008 Philippine Daily Inquirer. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

2nd AnimEksena: Rock d' Animation!

March 13, 20088pm onwards

TEN O2 Resto-Bar

Sct. Ybardolaza st near cor Timog Avenue

(Just a few blocks from MRT-gma. There's a Shell station on the left.)

Animation Shortfilms:

1. The Collateral(supershort Toon)

by: Enrick Geronia

2. Jologistics 101

by:Enrick Geronia

3. Code of the Fearless(short animation teaser)

by: Enrick Geronia

4. Oilzilla 1

by: Bong Modesto/Mobytoons

5. Extrajudicial Killing 1

by: Bong Modesto/Mobytoons

6. Lost in a Fairy Tales

by: Ronnie Sapinoso

7. The Howling

by: Ronnie Sapinoso

8. Mr. Shit

by: Ronnie Sapinoso

9. PMS

by: Rosevie Sevilla

10. The Dance

by: Rosevie Sevilla

11. Lineman

by: Rosevie Sevilla

12. One Minute Death

by: Teta Tulay

13. Tremble

by: Don Salubayba

14. Pinoy Boy

by: Don Salubayba

15. Row Row

by: Don Salubayba

Live Performances:

1. Pupitre

2. Possemuno

3. KontraLuz

4. Tales of Doom

5. The LowTechs

6. Purple Chickens

Tickets at the gate: Php150 (w/ choice of Spicy Tuna Canape or 3pc Crabstick Tempura)

Hosted by: Waise Azimi

*TEN 02 Happy Hour:

6-9PM (Beers - Php25)

9pm (3 for Php100)

Bar owner: SKARLET 0916-3624596

Friday, February 29, 2008

Big Love (after party)

Friday, February 22, 2008

Helen Keller's Quotes

"People do not like to think. If one thinks, one must reach conclusions. Conclusions are not always pleasant."

"The most pathetic person in the world is someone who has sight, but has no vision. "

"The only thing worse than being blind is having sight but no vision."

- Helen Keller

Pickle Jar

The pickle jar as far back as I can remember sat on the floor beside the dresser in my parents' bedroom.
When he got ready for bed, Dad would empty his pockets and toss his coins into the jar.

As a small boy I was always fascinated at the sounds the coins made as they were dropped into the jar. They landed with a merry jingle when the jar was almost empty. Then the tones gradually muted to a dull thud as the jar was filled.

I used to squat on the floor in front of the jar and admire the copper and silver circles that glinted like a pirate's treasure when the sun poured through the bedroom window. When the jar was filled, Dad would sit at the kitchen table and roll the coins before taking them to the bank.

Taking the coins to the bank was always a big production. Stacked neatly in a small cardboard box, the coins were placed between Dad and me on the seat of his old truck.

Each and every time, as we drove to the bank, Dad would look at me hopefully. "Those coins are going to keep you out of the textile mill, son. You're going to do better than me. This old mill town's not going to hold you back." Also, each and every time, as he slid the box of rolled coins across the counter at the bank toward the cashier, he would grin proudly "These are for my son's college fund. He'll never work at the mill all his life like me."

We would always celebrate each deposit by stopping for an ice cream cone. I always got chocolate. Dad always got vanilla. When the clerk at the ice cream parlor handed Dad his change, he would show me the few coins nestled in his palm. "When we get home, we'll start filling the jar again." He always let me drop the first coins into the empty jar. As they rattled around with a brief, happy jingle, we grinned at each other. "You'll get to college on pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters," he said. "But you'll get here. I'll see to that."

The years passed, and I finished college and took a job in another town. Once, while visiting my parents, I used the phone in their bedroom, and noticed that the pickle jar was gone. It had served its purpose and had been removed.

A lump rose in my throat as I stared at the spot beside the dresser where the jar had always stood. My dad was a man of few words, and never lectured me on the values of determination, perseverance, and faith.

The pickle jar had taught me all these virtues far more eloquently than the most flowery of words could have done. When I married, I told my wife Susan about the significant part the lowly pickle jar had played in my life as a boy. In my mind, it defined, more than anything else, how much my dad had loved me.

No matter how rough things got at home, Dad continued to doggedly drop his coins into the jar. Even the summer when Dad got laid off from the mill, and Mama had to serve dried beans several times a week, not a single dime was taken from the jar.

To the contrary, as Dad looked across the table at me, pouring catsup over my beans to make them more palatable, he became more determined than ever to make a way out for me. "When you finish college, Son," he told me, his eyes glistening, "You'll never have to eat beans again - unless you want to."

The first Christmas after our daughter Christine was born, we spent the holiday with my parents. After dinner, Mom and Dad sat next to each other on the sofa, taking turns cuddling their first grandchild. Christine began to whimper softly, and Susan took her from Dad's arms. "She probably needs to be changed," she said, carrying the baby into my parents' bedroom to diaper her. When Susan came back into the living room, there was a strange mist in her eyes.

She handed Christine back to Dad before taking my hand and leading me into the room. "Look," she said softly, her eyes directing me to a spot on the floor beside the dresser. To my amazement, there, a s if it had never been removed, stood the old pickle jar, the bottom already covered with coins. I walked over to the pickle jar, dug down into my pocket, and pulled out a fistful of coins. With a gamut of emotions choking me, I dropped the coins into the jar. I looked up and saw that Dad, carrying Christine, had slipped quietly into the room. Our eyes locked, and I knew he was feeling the same emotions I felt. Neither one of us could speak.

This truly touched my heart. I know it has yours as well. Sometimes we are so busy adding up our troubles that we forget to count our blessings.

Never underestimate the power of your actions. With one small gesture you can change a person's life, for better or for worse.

God puts us all in each other's lives to impact one another in some way. Look for God in others.

The best and most beautiful things cannot be seen or touched - they must be
felt with the heart ~ Helen Keller

Happy moments, praise God.

Difficult moments, seek God.

Quiet moments, worship God.

Painful moments, trust God.

Every moment, thank God.