Zandro's Gig

(This journal entry was written on August 10, 1996 at 11:15 p.m. after Zandro Urbiztondo's gig at Maalman Center, Cantilan, Surigao del Sur)

Diverse. That's the right word to describe Zandro's gig. The music he played was obviously studied to cater everyone's taste including the elders who were there to see their town's pride.

I should have brought with me a PUKOT (school paper) writer so I could be spared in writing about what transpired during the guy's concert. But the kids were exhausted due to their final examinations for the first grading...

Now for the concert:

The lighting was good. It would really touch the central core especially when sentimental songs (Will of the Wind; Nay, Tay) was highlighted with blue while the spotlight was on the singer. There was also a beautiful chaos of colors on upbeat tunes (A Girl Like You; Surigao, Surigao).

Credits also goes to the band "7th Sign" which handled the music with ease and confidence. Hats off to the drummer who blew our eardrums to smithereens.

When the guy sang REM's "The One I Love," my companion screamed his heart out especially when the singer segued to "Losing My Religion". I uttered a silent prayer for him to sing "Everybody Hurts" or "Monty Got A Raw Deal" but he probably thought these won't click with the repertoire. What would have happened to me and my companion if he performed "Ignoreland"?

The audience, mostly populated by the younger generation, was all feet and hands especially when LOCAL ROCK MUSIC was played: Eraserhead's "Huling El Bimbo"; Rivermaya's "Kisapmata and Himala", Tropical Depression's "Kapayapaan"; Rizal Underground's "Sabado Nights"; and some covers from Orient Pearl and others.

When it was time to listen to his own songs, the audience hushed including those who headbanged and those who created a mosh pit. There's this song about INSANE and "Libaungon" is thought-provoking...

But what really hit me was the blissful contentment you'd feel amidst the pandemonium of voices, emotions, movements which would merge AS ONE. You will become the music itself.

You should have seen Zandro. You would really agree with me by saying: IT WAS AN EXPERIENCE.

(image:http://www.myspace.com/zandronovo/music/playlists/my-playlist-38355)

Kinky

(photo: Roel Catoto, MindaNews)

"She's dead," your companion announced when you asked about her whereabouts. You were taken aback as if the words were thunderbolts which hit you. The motorbike hummed as your thoughts whirled with the rust-colored dust. "She was raped then allegedly murdered," the companion continued.

A certain sadness engulfed you like a shroud. You still could remember how she shivered due to hunger and cold when she asked for some food and money. Apple, as she was fondly called became alcoholic since the people (mostly male) saw her as an insignificant dot in this universe. A Mamanwa, judged due to the color of her skin and her inability to "function" well in the society. But then, what would one call a society which is indifferent and full of prejudice to these persons?

There was a time when a group of truant kids (14-16) talked publicly on how they gang-raped Apple and one even burnt her pubic hair using a lighter! The kids laughed with mirth while some adults cajoled them to continue their tale! When you had your time, you told them about The Apartheid in the US but it was beyond them. They even told you how she loved the kinky acts of having a gang as sex mates...

One time also, you had a prayer group in a cottage on a beach. On the other side, a group of drunks "supplied" Apple with intoxicants to the point that she passed out. When the closing prayer was said, your companions and yourself left her on the other cottage (the drunks went ahead) deep into limbo with the spirits and her confusions. You saw a puddle of piss below the bench she was slumped...

APPLE IS A REPRESENTATION of the IP's (indigenous people) and our attitude towards her is a reflection of our collective psyche towards them. We seem to draw a line between our ignorance and their well-being. For how many celebrations when we give them left-over food? How many times when we feel irked with them around? When there are social activities and they're present, have we seen organizers embracing them as a part of our social group?

Of course, we could say that there are right avenues in treating them, but have we initiated in the realizations of these avenues? Are local governments concerned about their identities? You even wonder if they are registered in the National Statistics Office... If not, so they do not have names and identities which are basic human rights?

Ah questions... You are also guilty of a lot of things and you must do something. You even aired your interest in adopting a Mamanwa child to be reared as a functional member of the community. But your close friends warned you about the ridicules he will receive and their itinerant genes could lead to exercises in futility. You are still not convinced for the NURTURE principle is still strong in your core. But you listened to them and has this fear of taking the risk for they might be correct...

In your area, the mining industry is thriving and there are provisions that these IP's must have their share of the wealth the miners get from their habitat. Yes, you heard about them being employed; going to the nearest city splurging on food and even cosmetics. Some are allegedly coming to beauty centers for hair-straightening and others are buying whitening lotions and signature clothes. These are probably their actions to be ACCEPTED. They'd like to be considered as "normal" so that even if some beauty consultants charge them expensively, they agree for they are also incapable of simple Math since most of them are unschooled.

It took decades for African-Americans to show to the world that their skin is not equated to their rights and capabilities. Now, America has a black president and most of the heralded athletes, performers, actors and even writers are colored. Here, you could not imagine when will it be when the Mamanwas would have a niche in a society they fairly belong...

Maybe it would be in another generation, not yours.

But I see your true colors
Shining through
I see your true colors
And that's why I love you
So don't be afraid to let them show
Your true colors,
True colors, are beautiful,
Like a rainbow.

-Billy Steinberg and Tom Kelly

Flirtations and Quickies

Reading the most wonderful book is like a relationship; reading a novel is like an affair; reading a short story is like a flirtation; reading essays is similar to a quickie; and reading a poem is like a stolen kiss in the dark.

Who said that? You wonder if it comes from a brilliant mind of a writer or something your dark half has created. You suddenly found the phrases in the drain of your mind as residues. A fleeting emotion came as you read a sad story of defeat...of noble things started which ended to be futile... Indeed, villains would sometimes come out victorious.

A NOVEL AS AN AFFAIR. You go to a place where displays of covers and blurbs are available. You take time in ogling the color combinations, the teasers, the photographs and even the minute details of the cover. Like attraction, it starts with the physical level. Then you'd decide whether to buy the book or not. Some considerations are going to be made: Would I become better if I read this? Is this worth my time, and dough?

Then because of the lust for words and the mysteries to be learned, you decide to have that connection. Despite the sales representatives' suggestions of other books, you will take the one that catches your attention. Sometimes, it's really because of the cover and that carnal desire to own. But the true test is when the process of reading happens. First two chapters, you could either be hooked or get bored with the syntax. The prose might as well titillate or inject your mind with zombie juices. The aroused goes on, but the bored would just continue the drone...

Then, the realization happens. This is the time when the reader would either devour the contents of the book or the bored would put it at the back of his mind... The affair would either end at the epilogue of at Chapter 5... Minor discussions would be started from the inspired and from the regretful, it would be the words "Good riddance!"

FLIRTING WITH THE SHORT STORY. How will you flirt? Wouldn't you dress up and try to make yourself presentable? Aren't you trying to apply how those crustaceans would do when they'd want to mate? Yes. You have this desire to be noticed and once noticed, you'd snatch the chance and try to apply the predator-prey theory.

Then, through scanning, you find your prey which will be signaled by this unknown taste in your tongue. You see the length of the article like seeing the length of the hair or anything that could be measured and of preference. Then you start the reading...

Halfway, like a waft of sour underarms, you would sometimes repel to the text especially if you prefer sweet prose or Victoria's Secret scented armpits... Or, you could get hooked which could lead towards asking for a number or an e-mail....

QUICKIES FROM ESSAYS. If you're a product of a conservative brood, you won't understand this. If you were exposed to naughty peers and an advocate of the RH Bill for the sole purpose of "utilizing your body to the fullest", you might get a quick release.

Essays could sometimes perk up your temperature to the point that blood is pumped to the sensitive organs. They, too could sting like a red hot chili pepper. But there are ruptures of bliss even if fleeting after a good read. There are orgasmic interludes and there are "how dare he write this!" moments as well.

But that's it. A quickie is a quickie...

STOLEN KISSES IN THE DARK FROM POETRY. When erotica was introduced, it created a stir in the literati. But these short verses are indeed happening in daily activities. When haiku was imprinted in your system, sometimes, you want to wipe the grime off your face and flee. But these snatches of beauty, although would lead to become a distant memory, are still good experiences in life as a continuum.

RELATIONSHIPS. Atticus Finch seems to be your neighbor. You could sometimes hear him reason out that it's not good To Kill A Mockingbird. Then, there's Jean Valjean, Cosette, Marius, Eponine and Javert. You even wandered in the streets of Paris to the barricades. And when Jean Claude Boubil converted their words to music, you could hear them sing One More Day and that sad soliloquy of Marius when he wept in front of Empty Chairs At Empty Tables...Ah, the pathos of Les Miserables.

Yes. These are the things to happen once you get hooked with a good read. You will go deeper to the minutest details of the author and even the characters. You could even empathize with them as if you're one of the characters yourself.

But you are minority. A great percentage prefer to have quickies and premature ejaculations literally rather than figuratively. They would not care about the metaphors and similes. In fact, there are some wolves in sheep's clothing who would give Messianic promises to their hapless victims.

Still, you will dwell on the places books could only provide. You throw away those ones which are not worth the time and open new chapters which could lead to beautiful and meaningful relationships.

(image: inkymole.blogspot.com)

Penis on the Cross

What's the thin line between art and trash?

This was the question to come to your mind as the noise on Mideo Cruz's art installation at the Cultural Center of the Philippines escalated to a decibel so difficult to ignore. The picture of Christ The King painted to become similar to Mickey Mouse, the cross with a condom, Virgin Mary integrated with the basketball jocks and that cross with a phallus other men would indeed envy...

The Catholic church wages war against the installation art since, for them, it's something done with malice which could even be considered as blasphemous. Cardinal Gaudencio Rosales was quoted that the artist abused the so-called freedom of expression. Several Catholic lay groups have threatened to file charges against Mr. Cruz and the exhibition organizers, and one group called Pro-life Philippines has written a letter to the cultural center demanding that the exhibit be taken down (The Globe and Mail).

You wallow in art. At a very young age, you were exposed to the literati - Twain, Lewis, Dickinson, O Henry and your all-time favorite work of literature is Victor Hugo's Les Miserables. In college, you touched-base with your own heritage by reading Nick Joaquin, Jose Garcia Villa, Kerima Polotan and the contemporary prose of Danton Remoto and Jessica Zafra.

Visual arts also interest you. You tried to understand van Gogh's eccentricities and da Vinci's hidden stories. You tried to melt with the Renaissance art and got interested with cubism via Picasso and locally, Ang Kiukok... Yeah, there were goosebumps and you were transported to a different dimension. You were able to go to a deeper place.

And then you realized that your thoughts could be translated to performance. You were able to stage socially-relevant movements which made some audience cringe on their seats especially those contemporary dances on violence against women and child abuse... Yes, you know how to make others happy and uncomfortable...

But, you understand your limitations. You're a member of a society where norms must be set. As what Eric Gancho (of YANO) said: There is only freedom to do good, other than that, it would be something else.

So what is your take on Mideo Cruz's so-called art?

That's pure insult to the Catholic faith!

You were informed that Muslims place their Koran on a very special part of the house. Could you announce that you're having an artistic itch by capturing a photograph with a model pissing on it? Would it be performance art when someone holds the hip of a woman and starts pumping her back in an act of copulation while inside a Baptist church and the rest are singing praise and worship songs? What would be the INC's reaction when you crop a picture of Manalo and put a wooden penis on his mouth? Would there be ohhhhs and ahhhss as they experience bliss or discomfort due to a so-called "deep experience"?

When the artists grouped themselves and protected their kind by saying it's a constitutional right to express one's ideas, you agreed and begged to disagree for there are things better left unsaid. They even told the television audience that Cruz's art is his stand on idolatry among the Catholics.

You were born a Catholic, a devout one and leader of a Christian community. You recently bought an image of the Virgin of Mt. Carmel and placed it on an area of your place where it symbolizes your religious convictions. But it was never meant to be adored or idolized, It's a signal for every visitor that someone living here considers praying as part of his life. It's a constant reminder about the beliefs and values to be applied. You would be enraged if someone squirts semen on the face of the image and announce it's art!

You then remember snuff films and recently those uploaded videos of sexy women sitting on rabbits and puppies until they die. You remembered your brother gagging when he viewed a violent film showing a sadistic man blow-torching a woman's eye. Those pornographic materials showing a man peeing and defecating on a woman, and women inserting baseball bats in men's anuses. These are all twisted things which are happening. But do we have to highlight these in public through installations, films, songs and other forms of art? Could it change society's ills? Or could it lead towards the enhancement of perversion and the proliferation of criminal minds...

You need to dwell on things which could lead to cohesion, healing, peace and development. There are chasms and great divides happening among the families and societies... why not dwell on them and be a harbinger of positive change?

You could consider Mia Michael's choreography on addiction and how it eats the soul... But you could never dare look for a picture of someone's mother, rip the part of where her mouth is, place a wooden penis ,carve out the eyes and crown her head with the word WHORE on it.

(photo: AFP)

Mam, May I Go Out?

Enrolment problems ranging from late enrollees to transferees hounded the opening of classes on Monday, when some 25.7 million students from kindergarten through high school returned to public and private high schools nationwide.

It was the first class opening for the Aquino administration, whose Department of Education (DepEd) is grappling with inherited shortages in critical resources, including teachers, classrooms, textbooks, seats and toilets.

As it happened, a group of 50 teachers, still in uniform, trooped to the DepEd central office in Pasig City to protest the introduction of K+12, a costly universal kindergarten program, amid yet unresolved problems including the low wages of educators. (Inquirer.net)

These unsettling realities would seep into our cores since we were students before. How could a young kid learn something while sweating buckets of perspiration while he is sitting on the floor? How could a teacher mill-around to do the process-checking when he himself could not move around since the classroom is filled with wriggling bodies?

With the onslaught of 5-year-olds for the K+12 Program of the Department of Education and the inconsistencies of the salaries given to the (untrained) pre-school teachers, one could really wonder about the intellectual destination of our young. With the influx of gadgets and availability of on-line cafes around, which child psychologists point as one of this generation’s major distractions, we could also see that the kids are into things which they could not use in real life. Could they communicate well if they’re into DOTA? Could they really perform deep analyses since they know how to do Counterstrike? Maybe…

The government must do something. The painful thing is that almost all the mistakes would be pointed to the president and other leaders. That could be another unsettling reality. Since the state is created for its people, then everyone could almost put the blame to the government. This was probably one reason why P-Noy hesitated to run for the presidency. In fact, he went for a retreat somewhere in Mindanao to be enlightened. But majority of Filipinos pushed and voted him to office with Cory’s charisma as an add-on… It was indeed a sacrifice on his part for now even his relationships and his nicotine addiction are newsworthy.

Again, what would become of our educational system? There’s the 4 P’s of the DSWD where critics term as dole-outs. Government subsidies are given to poor families and a portion of the grant must be for the kids’ education. But some parents won’t go the school to pay their dues. Some would try to experience being one-day millionaires once they receive the money in lump.

The brouhaha for the RH Bill is continuing. Some analysts say that this could be one of the alternatives to control the population so that the Philippines won't be in future limbo. According to them, the more people, the more problems. The more children, the more classrooms to be built, the more textbooks to be produced and the more errors to correct. But the church is waging war against the issue since its stand is Pro-Life. It considers the bill as anti-life.

Because of these chains of confusion, others would resort to drown in DEADMA and LET IT BE and WHO CARES.

For us teachers, we could squeeze in more students inside our classrooms; damage our vocal chords so to be heard; arm ourselves with anti-TB medicine; think about being a caregiver; go on for more loans... or resign from being one. In the end, only the willing to serve endures...

Welcome back to school.

(photo:uk.reuters.com)

Kapit-Tuko

Someone asked me if we have a gecko at home because he will buy it for 2.5 million pesos. On instances like these, I would become speechless. Questions and facts would whirl inside my head it's like going crazy. (Have you experienced traveling on a bus for almost 10 hours and you got scared to realize that your thoughts are in disarray? This is similar to that experience.

First, what's with the gecko which we locally named TUKO? Someone said its blood and liver could cure cancer. Others theorized it is an additive for illegal substances. Then, scientific stuff was mentioned... Millions,too, were spoken...

This is my problem: Are the buyers authorized to buy such reptiles? Who are these buyers when in fact there is no company present in the region where signage of this business is conspicuous. We buy copra, we buy seaweeds, we buy nipa, we buy bayat and kinhason... but no We buy tuko.

I remembered one time when a person came to the former school where I was teaching. The guy announced that he is a talent scout of ABS-CBN. He was interested to "sign-up" a male student and the parents asked for advise from me (I was designated as the guidance coordinator that time). The talent scout then discussed without any stimulus about the talent fee. He talked 500 thousand starting fee and I blurted out: You're talking about money this big and yet you were only commuting using trisikad?

The point is this: If this is such a big business, who are these buyers who only come and go looking like thugs? They'd tell you about bank-to-bank transactions while dusting-off the "kaitan" they got from Noventa. Is there a permit of sorts from the DENR since geckos are exotic animals? If they're only interested on the blood and liver of the reptile then dump the tuko, would the animal-rights' advocates cry foul?(Then the whirlwind of thoughts then stop on the image of Cindy Crawford and the supermodels going naked than wearing fur!)

A teacher, full of conviction, told me about this. She said that we could retire from the education department and find geckos. I shushed her since we were on a hired van and other passengers might think that teaching is really a pathetic profession that we'd rather look for lizards than facilitate the learning process!

Indeed, we are motivated to have more possessions. I could not blame this to poverty since I saw a lot of people in the malls frequenting Marithe+Francois Girbaud and our so-called poor students are spending on cellphone loads than books. Our sanity will be blinded by the figures mentioned to us. When millions will be discussed we then forget to ask LAW: Is it Legal? Is it Accepted? Is it Worthwhile? That's why we sometimes swallow illegal drugs and become mules for a bigger fee.

But stories are yet to be told and reasons are still to be analyzed, qualified and accepted. We will not put this one to a dark light. It's just that we have to ask. If indeed geckos are worth millions, then so be it. But the facts must be clear. Since we already realized how expensive swallows nests, shark's fin and Beluga whales' liver could be...gecko's blood might be the next.

I might also try reviving that sigbin controversy since this alleged creature could cure AIDS!

(photo:pinoyexchange.com)

When Justin Turns Samson

Is it his hair that catapulted him to such fame? For how could we say that it's his voice since we could not even be assured that his music will be remembered when he will be swallowed by fame itself. Sorry Justin Beiber fans but we lovers of the arts could not even find the aesthetics every time he struggles with the choreography given by Usher's dance creators.

I don't have anything against him or or his music. I could understand how adolescents swoon when he is on TV or onstage since I also saw how my friends shrieked when Robi Rosa of Menudo displayed his feelings via "If You're Not Here (By My Side) during the 80's. I know how to be edging towards being a groupie because I collected and read almost all of the music and articles of "The Cure".

Yeah, there's a certain stage when young persons invest a lot of emotions on entertainers...

But could we just shrug our shoulders when fame starts become bigger than life? Could we continue to make him as a role model if he'd display arrogance and things which are against the universal values? For starters, respect cuts across races and orientations.

Justin Beiber, the teen idol, recently had a concert here in the Philippines. I was mum about it for he is not R.E.M. or Coldplay but the promotions were everywhere.

Then he arrived in Manila and was reported sick. He turned down the after-the-concert party due to his alleged illness. We could understand that. But how could we accept his behavior when he would snap to a camera man covering his departure? Worse, he slapped away the CD an airport crew wanted him to sign. Even if one is sick, he knows that the crew probably has a kid who idolizes him, or probably a niece or nephew, or simply the person himself... Empathy, if not developed in a person could make him become dysfunctional. Historical data showed how serial killers lack this competence. If he lacks the education he direly needs due to his age, his handlers and managers must be concerned about this since POWER would soon take over. Even if they're old enough to be his fathers/mothers, they could be screamed because he is simply Justin Beiber. The managers/agents must give him character education since the singer is the product himself. What if the consumers won't patronize the product since it is rotten in the core? What would be their cut when there are no more demands for records to produce?

During the last Grammy awards, I knew that Beiber won't have anything except if there was a popularity contest there. Even the Best New Artist trophy was not garnered by him. For how could he topple the likes of Lady Antebellum and Muse?

Point: Singing could be honed since it's a skill. But in this industry, there are Phil Collins, Seal, Michael Stipe, Sting, John Mayer, Jason Mraz, Bjork, Tori Amos, Alanis Morisette and others who reek TALENT. When this skill would be paired with bad attitude, we could only wait for him to be another Britney, Lindsay and others to become a has-been.

Like Samson, Justin needs a haircut.

(photo:celebritysmack.com)

When Blogs Die

When the news that Friendster is going to have an overhaul of their system, you wondered what will happen to your blogs. According to the advisory, the pictures and blogs would be wiped-out. Where would your thoughts go? When the ideas, opinions and other stuff from the mind are immortalized on the virtual memory, they could be considered as snippets of one's soul. So, with the demise of such thoughts, part of the soul would also succumb to the "other" place. But, again, is there a nirvana of sorts in terms of these?

Reading your blogs could sometimes enthrall you. There are ideas which you could not remember having. There are also beautiful words and erroneous syntax... Still, you wonder what prompted you to think about those things. Sometimes, a stimulus could just be a simple event that would mutate into something incomprehensible. There were instances too when the events are too good to be true and you say nothing at all.

You then remember Stephen King's "The Dark Half". You got scared too much when the writer's other half knocked on his doorstep and introduced himself as his pseudonym humanized. Paranoia and other forms of insanity could be traced but then the author was wise enough to allow the reader to imagine that indeed the dark half is true. Paired with the smell of apples and the vivid imagery of sparrows on the cable wires, sleep would be a bit impossible for those who are gifted with clear image projections.

Then, there are instances that you got scared of yourself too. Looking at the humongous bulk of your journals, you sometimes hear them whisper. Since 1986, you were scribbling things on a myriad of feelings, occasions and trivial stuff. When you would dare open them to read some, it seems that they were being written by a different person. probably your dark half...

But you're concerned about them. Even if you get scared sometimes with the way the mind brings you to unimaginable places, you still worry they're going to vanish like cosmic dust...

Digressing, there are men you know who have this scary thing once they'd get drunk. Like a stranger, they would show something that even their friends and their families get amazed with the display of something near the bizarre or even the macabre! After the euphoria, they would put the blame on the alcohol and dismiss everything indifferently. Now, you realize that multiple personalities live inside you and the people around. There are trigger points when these characters come out in the open. Some are beneficial and others could be harmful... Sometimes, by just thinking about it could cause a headache...

You need to save your soul, er, your files now.

(picture: sodahead.com)

Sadako That Time

It was roaring. The groan seemed to come from the depths of the earth. And as if scared, the house trembled and the glasses shattered while the saints on the altar went down the floor to kiss the dye wax on it. There was nothing to register in the head but fear. Engulfed with panic, the body swayed like a rag doll towards the safe haven of the outside. Mumbled prayers became screamed ones as the need to do self-preservation escalated. Disorientation gripped the mind as the heart sank at the sight of fallen structures and cracked dreams of supposedly-tough materials.

The loved ones were then remembered. Where are they? Are they safe? Is Kino with his classmates when the earth shook? Is Akihiro outdoors when the groans from the earth complained?

While trying to collect the thoughts, hissing sound commenced. It was like a snake roused from a deep slumber. The sound could be a signal of an aftershock but it was... wet.

From the corner of the eye, a silver reflection blinked. It was ignored first but it seemed to be the source of the hissing! Then, when the eyes focused on the onslaught, it dawned on the senses that water raged towards the land!

The breaking of wood, steel and other materials mixed with the sound of screaming for help but the hissing sound overpowered everything. Debris and people made love on water as life ebbed when the force of the quake was transferred to the liquid medium. On an aerial view, the scene looked like a computer-generated simulation of a scary catastrophe. Yet, it was real...true.

A forty percent increase from the previous panic increased as the body moved back inside the shaken house. Water ran after like a mad dog insulted by his territorial claims. Lots thought that the houses would protect them. But they were wrong. The hunger of the water seemed insatiable. A liquid beast devouring everything on its way...

When its claws scratched their walls, she exhaled. A sign of surrender and defeat. As the soul felt the force enveloping the structure, it remembered the unsaid haikus to the loved ones.

Hundreds of kilometers and continents away, people viewed the nightmare on cable TV. They were gripped with fear too that something as destructive could reach their place . They intently listened to the broadcasts and started to pack their bags as the authorities raised Alert Level 2.

But back in the place where it all began, ghosts started to haunt the fallen places as waves of aftershocks continued to animate the now-silent surroundings.

Silence--a strangled
Telephone has forgotten
That it should ring - (Haiku by Michael R. Collings)

(Photo: Sanni Vincent Guillergan)

Hiccups

(for the Goat who found a boner scary...)

Enveloped with the dark shroud of despair and rain-kissed
the heavy soul picked himself from the shattered pieces of his dreams
the mirrored past loomed in his future, his bent present seemed full of pain
but a tinge of the distant rainbow could still be traced that he moved slowly

Towards the comforting arms of reality- his father, his mother, his siblings, himself
yet their realities excluded him from jumping up to Mars
that he decided to be embraced by the comforts of "the others"
their laughter became his and he went to hell and to heaven and back

He decided to become his own universe, free from gravity and other forces when rotating,
his own axis and his own center was not the sun but the night
he became a demigod, then God himself... then, the devil incarnate
justice, truth and other stuff became distant feelings from his numbed ones

Then, the rain, the shroud caressing him like a lusty lover... and the man on the moon!
he wept and looked at his tattered clothing of a self
and stooped, grasped the last breath of oxygen gifted by another demigod
he died, tried to but survived, he left the old shell of a body but the spirit won't...

Vampire or not, he must grab that tinge of rainbow that Baxter's world is offering
Death would come intimately, as Sugar Hiccup suggested...

(photo:circlingthelionsden.blosgspot.com)

His Island, Our Islands

Jack opened his eyes. He was dazed. He saw green trunks of trees. Before moving, he sensed the eerie quiet. Was he dead? But, a blade from grass touched his cheek. He felt something - of course, he was still alive!

Then, he stood up and realized he was in the middle of a thicket. Vegetation surrounded him like foe and he saw the dog looking at him with curiosity... He felt pain all over his body and he heard the ocean. He rushed to where the ocean was and he saw them.

There were people both living and dying. The dead stayed immobile on the beach with eyes wide open, the dying ones were trying to figure out whether they were in heaven or hell. Then, Jack saw the debris of their plane. Of course! He was a passenger of Oceanic Flight 815 and their plane crashed.

He hurried to where the injured persons were. He tried to resuscitate a woman who seemed not to breathe. The woman coughed and he commanded someone to take care of her as he scurried on the sand to find more of the injured. He must help them!

Jack then remembered he was a doctor.

So goes the opening sequence of J.J. Abrams' pilot episode of LOST. The TV premiere garnered an average of 15.69 million US viewers per episode on ABC. During its sixth and final season, the show averaged over 11 million US viewers per episode. Viewers hungered for the answers when they find themselves asking a lot of questions as the episodes unfold more twists and turns.

But the series was a no-nonsense one. Although there were twists, they were presented in a consistent manner where the story is intact and the characterization, precise. Indeed, every time the scenes were presented, the viewers were allowed to think... deeply. The main interest would crop up when one realizes that "there's something about the island!"
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You know such places.

One time, you were cajoled by your friends to go to a night joint and you suddenly sensed sex on the atmosphere. When the nude women started to gyrate onstage, you wanted to find blankets to cover their imperfections. The men salivate on the mons pubis downwards but you saw poverty behind the staged lust on the ladies' faces. You also saw the scars of childhood rashes and deprivation of Vitamin C. Their reptilian skin was slick with perspiration yet the men around you wanted to perform the animal instinct of mating and nothing more. But there were no blankets and your urge was as blasphemous as shouting F_CK YOU! inside a church while the priest is venerating the unleavened bread to become the body of Christ.

You also remembered a street corner where some drinking buddies drowning their souls with intoxicants witnessed an accident from someone riding a motorbike. The driver, sans a helmet, flew some feet away from them banging his head on concrete. The will to help surfaced on the drunks. One lifted the victim while another started massaging the chest of the man. One shouted to unbuckle the belt and take off his shoes. When another saw that the man stopped breathing, he grabbed the man's balls and squeezed them hard. He died anyway.

There's also an acacia tree near the church of your place. Across the street is the statue of Michael the Archangel stepping on the devil with his sword angled to impale Satan. But at night time, some young couples (gay, straight and whatnot) would make this spot as their rendezvous. Others are equipped with protection, others would simply make the Australian bush as their thin shield from shame. You even wondered if the energy of this place would shift since an adoration chapel is on its completion.
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Yeah, Jack is a fictitious character and his island. But his kind and his island is here amongst us.

(Matthew Fox's photo: fanpop.com)