Author: Maria Ella Betos

Tadhana Tuesdays, Progressive Takes

I went to Makati last night to give some stuff to Lyra: her backpack (helped me in traversing Japanese countryside) and a Christmas gift from Jhana. The commute from my little home should be lighter than most of the working class from the North (since I live in the strategic center of the Metro) but every time I decide to use the main artery called EDSA, it feels like I am embarking in a long concrete jungle trek just to get to the Ayala Triangle. Ever since the pandemic lockdowns, I have zero idea on the ways of the commute along the Makati Central Business District; it has become a sea of SUVs and lots of crawling kamote riders at the seams, like a mix of US and Vietnam warring the roads of Paseo and Buendia and other one-way avenues like HV Dela Costa.

Seeing the OG Phil Stock Exchange in Makati is unpleasant. Andaming tent! Nawala ang bisa ng pagkakalikha sa kanya bilang malawak na open space dahil lang sa hindi ko tukoy na event. The mini-enclave is hospital-white coded. Hindi ko alam kung may laboratory ba ng MPOX sa loob, o may kasal, o sadyang gawa-gawang pook-kainan ng mga burgis. I told Lyra to meet me in Paseo Center instead, a little waypoint of corporate employees for their lunch breaks and meriendas. I remember this building in my college years as I traverse the same business district looking for respondents in our Tacsiapo feasibility study, its thesis being “the main community to address stress and anger management,” a transgressive buzzword before the surge of the call centers and financial BPOs in the Pinoy business landscape.

I sat inside the Pho Hoa, addressing the need for protein and carbohydrates. My body wanted a replenishment from the trek. And on that trek I realized that I was building a fan fiction: a delulu lore of being an International banker. With the experience of policy papers, I’ve become the passenger princess while this specific bias is my driver. We tagged this as a “Cultural Meeting”, but it’s a one-on-one fan meet. A curated conversation with this specific musician who graduated in my university, reshaped the OPM landscape via PPOP, and him seeking funding with the vision of “Iaangat ang ekonomiya sa pamamagitan ng mga nililikhang musika at katha.” And this scenario is strategically placed in EDSA corner Ortigas Ave, when I randomly sighed “heto na naman si Edsang Cajabaan” while mulling over the ways we can channel his vision into a 25-year Official Development Assistance.

Suddenly, I opened my organizer and added this specific prompt as the fourth item of my to-do list for submissions.

Thanks to Lyra and her husband’s SUV, we have combated the traffic and she drop me off to my next event place in Kalayaan. In Hoseik Manila, I met Justine alone in the farthest bench, an hour before the event starts. He mentioned about the Vivo brothers, mute and waiting on the opposite side. I’d have to bank in my affiliation as the book club moderator and say hello. Pero, hindi ko makilala ang mga tao dahil wala akong salamin, at madilim — ano bang meron sa bar na ito kundi dim lighting? Kung hindi ko pa tatanungin yung mga nakaupo, hindi pa sila maghe-hello. Buti na lang pala at extrovert ako. Bulag nga lang.

Ang cool lang ni sir Nal (tawagin ko na ba syang boss Vivo? Kasi naman, parating tawag sa akin nun ay Ms. Ella). We talked about the direction of this writers org for Pasig City, and how we can tackle and move the community from its annual writing workshops to quarterly folios, and widen its reach to the aspiring young writers via literary engagements. Also, I told him that I intentionally invited him with the other younger writers who can sit with those aligned with the academe and public institutions, as I desire to make a workshop bring out a new way of storytelling: employing mobilities, newer vernaculars and inclusivity in code-switching. He had high hopes, as this will be his first formal workshop as a panelist in a roster of multiple fellows in various genres. He jested that if I winged the 2025 summer workshop and be able to introduce a new philosophy contrasting today’s academic landscape, “tinalo mo pa ang UP Writers workshop!”

With our exchange of ideas and sentiments on current Pinoy literary landscape and its readership (and patronage?), magkakaroon na kami ng bagong episode sa Book Talakayan podcast. Sayang hindi ko nai-record ang lahat ng ito. Isa pa, super busy na ng aming creative director (kaya matagal nang hiatus ang nasa spotify).

He nudged me to ask questions to Ricky Lee, being the main guest for that night’s event of spoken word poetry and sparking the interest and honing the craft, but I became hesitant, responding with, “Sa book club na lang, mas friendly pa sa mga basher na katulad ko.” We listened as the National Artist repeats his lores of script-writing and storytelling. A student asked and sir Ricky answered, “Ilabas mo lang yan, isuka mo yang mga naiisip mo. Saka na ang pagpapaganda; ang mahalaga, naisulat mo.” Vivo chimed in and he echoed the same sentiment, saying that even though some academics say that you are introducing a different idea to the world, as long as you release a craft, you can feel relief. You can feel whole again.

Our conversations jumped from opinions of the pinoy creative writing from our younger years, and how to introduce a new ethos with the insertion of short media, infusion of music and film / tv series, and how to execute movements in the prose. Special mention: Bebang’s REELiterature, building bookish features and creative nonfiction entries via facebook videos. As usual, I cannot help but share my reading experiences with the long forms and how it influenced my way of writing stories through the “Creative Nonfiction slant”, its art of restraint and its slow movement as a haven to create a first-person view of things from a higher elevation. I told him that it takes a huge toll on my stamina, as I do not rage-write, a polar opposite of his writing rhythms and the birth of the Dreamland trilogy. He candidly shared about his one-on-one mentorship with the students taking thesis on the MA Creative Writing, and he often asked the young, “Tinuturuan ba kayo ng iba pang istilo ng pagsusulat?” and more often than not, the latter would answer in the same manner as my reading experience: building a universe ala-Noli, but nothing is happening, prose is becoming slow-burning, with a high risk of crash-and-burn at the latter part of the work. Worse, it becomes stagnant.

I asked if he has a life-hack on making people move in his stories, and his insight that I picked in his anecdotes was about the auditory engagement. Almost after he mentioned about earworms being an organic element to a song, a poet shared his story on writing 80 pages that looked like a film script but actually a short story, his voice echoed as sharp as the violet laser light in the dimmed space. Out of curiousity, I stood and looked for the man but Vivo stopped me saying, “Huwag mong hanapin, pakinggan mo lang. Umupo ka lang at pakinggan.” I wasn’t attentively listening to whatever the man said, but I was actively noting the timbre, the assertive tone, and his sub-woofing vocal range in the microphone. That poet can be a voice artist dubbing Sid Lucero, taglish-ing the conflict of his quick-witted mind versus the typing skills, the ideas quickly falting and not plotting properly into the paper.

I guess that little snippet gave me an idea to engage in other forms of art and channel the same velocity to the drafts I am creating for my submissions. Perhaps this time around, I can channel the writing rage, and rather than just dumping quotations and conversations of the characters, I can do a drill of thrashing the craft with multitudes of verbs and adjust my scenarios to a spree, engaging a third-person point of view and work it like a camera lens, its level as grounded and with the world. It does take a lot of unlearning from the slow-burns and musings.

Little breaks happened after the talks and guests of the spoken word segments, some picture taking here and there, and before the Vivo brothers exit the scene, we have our picture taken.

From left to right: Ronnel Vivo, Ronaldo Vivo, Ella, Justine Taño, Rickly Lee
Yung tinapik ko lang si sir Ricky Lee tas sabi ko, “Sir dali, pa-picture po tayo, sayang naman.” HAHAHA! Tapos biglang kinalabit ko si Alfonso Manalastas para kuhaan kami ng picture.
Napakabait ng mga tao sa resident basher ng Pinoy Reads Pinoy Books.

Sa lahat ng naging hanash namin sa event, bigla kong naisip ang magiging isa sa vision ng baby project na AGOS (Adhika ng Giting sa Obra at Sining) ng Pasig: Ang pagkakaroon ng kanlungan at bagtasan ng mga manunulat at mambabasa mula sa samu’t-saring strata ng Kapasigan, at tagapagpadaloy ng mga katha sa mga mamamayang hirap sa paghahanap ng ikukunsumong sining. Isa siyang magiging malaking waypoint (Genshin Impact reference) na magmamapa ng bagong paraan ng pagkukwento at pagbabanghay sa boses na progresibo.

“Bawat Kislap ng Mata Mo ay Ano?” 

Lo-fi Aesthetics, Lyrical Obscurity, and the Construction of Meaning in Contemporary OPM

The fluorescent lights of a specific supermarket in Estancia Estates buzzed, casting a sterile glow over the meticulously arranged aisles. It was a Sunday afternoon, the air thick with multiple aisles of household needs — meat and vegetables, to kitchen cleaning items, up to the beauty section in the middle of the toiletries and toilettes. I was there, ostensibly for groceries, targeting a PHP 1,500 spending, but to make my chore a bit interesting, I tuned to the melancholic melodies of Dionela, a new discovery, his music streaming from my phone, a small island of calm amidst the consumerist chaos. 

“Marilag” played, the familiar intro washing over me. But this time, something was different. I noticed the faint echo of an FM radio broadcast in the distance, a disembodied voice announcing the date: “September 20, 2005.” This unexpected intrusion, this ghost of a past broadcast, piqued my curiosity. Why this date? Was it a deliberate inclusion, a hidden message, or simply a sonic artifact, a byproduct of the lo-fi aesthetic that permeated his music? This seemingly insignificant detail, however, foreshadowed the disorienting experience that would soon unfold as I delved deeper into Dionela’s discography.

Dionela’s music, with its hazy textures and melancholic undertones, had quickly become the soundtrack to my life. It was the perfect accompaniment to my grocery shopping, the background music for my sacks of rice, the sonic balm for my anxieties with processed chicken and beef. Yet, as I delved deeper into his discography, a nagging unease began to surface.

The lyrics, while undeniably poetic, often felt… elusive. Lines like “D’Amalfi in a bar” and “Au in a Goose” floated by, intriguing yet ultimately meaningless. They were like cryptic messages in a bottle, beautiful in their obscurity, yet ultimately unsolvable. Was this intentional? Was Dionela deliberately aiming for ambiguity, inviting listeners to project their own interpretations onto his enigmatic verses?

This question, I realized, was the crux of my dilemma. Dionela’s music, with its emphasis on atmosphere and sonic texture, seemed to prioritize ambiance over narrative. The lo-fi aesthetic, with its intentional imperfections and grainy textures, created a sense of intimacy, a shared secret between the artist and the listener.

However, this emphasis on the sonic experience can sometimes overshadow the lyrical content. At its core, lo-fi is about finding beauty in the imperfect and unrefined. It is a counterpoint to the hyper-commercialized, overly produced content flooding mainstream media. Instead of striving for perfection, lo-fi embraces the raw, the unfinished, and the nostalgic.This emphasis on authenticity, on the imperfections of analog recording and the embrace of sonic imperfections, creates a sense of intimacy and authenticity. It invites the listener to “get closer,” to appreciate the nuances and subtleties of the sound.  

While the lo-fi aesthetic champions the beauty of the imperfect, it should not come at the expense of the authenticity of the lyrical message. Furthermore, the listening experience was disjointed by my own tendency to mishear lyrics. I vividly remember mishearing the line “Ibigin ka’y drama sa teatrong upua’y limitado, Bawat kislap ng mata’y kawalan, oo” as “Ibigin kita’y drama sa upuang ginawa mo, bawat kislap ng mata mo ay ano?” This mishearing, while seemingly minor, significantly altered the meaning of the song for me, highlighting the importance of clear and concise lyricism in conveying the intended message.

In Dionela’s “Sining,” the phrases like “Pinasala’y ikinamada / mo Binibining may Salamangka” felt incongruous with the otherwise smooth flow of the music, as if a disaster should be manually organized by fictitious persona. The juxtaposition of the archaic ‘ikinamada’ with the modern, almost casual phrasing of ‘Binibining may Salamangka’ creates a sense of dissonance, undermining the intended emotional impact of the song. This disjointedness, further exacerbated by the occasional miss of the musical beat, hinders the listener’s ability to fully connect with the lyrical message. Moreover, the phrase “You’ve turned my limbics into a bouquet” felt not only grammatically and medically impossible (limbic system is a singular noun that controls (1) Behavior, (2) Emotion, (3) Motivations, and (4) Memory), but also metaphorically jarring, its attempt at poetic flourish coming across as pretentious and ultimately distracting.

This elusiveness, while perhaps intentional, can be frustrating for listeners. In a world saturated with information and instant gratification, the demand for immediate comprehension and clear meaning is strong. Dionela’s music, with its emphasis on ambiguity and the subjective interpretation, can challenge this expectation, potentially alienating listeners who crave a more direct and accessible form of communication. “Oksihina,” in particular, became a personal pet peeve. Aside from gender-bending the Tagalog word for the Oxygen, the song title has been stylized in a Filipino slang that can be mistaken as a Japanese loan word. In my mind I asked, “If the muse is Oksihina, then what is the persona – a Carbon Dioxide?” The lyrics, we felt, were fragments of thought, poetic musings that lacked a cohesive narrative. They were beautiful, yes, but ultimately frustrating in their ambiguity. Also, the deliberate insertion of the bridge to mask it as a hidden message is only a reversed typeset of the first stanza from his lesser famous song “Musika”. It may be amusing to the other listeners (and can highly be mistaken as a regional language), but what is the intent of inserting a totally different concept and not even a tangent with the muse being the reason of existing? Am I missing the point? Am I too caught up in the search for meaning, for a clear and concise narrative, to appreciate the beauty of the ambiguity?

Perhaps this was the point. Maybe Dionela was not concerned in telling stories in as much as he was interested in creating moods, in evoking emotions. Maybe the music was not about conveying a specific message; it was about creating an atmosphere, an emotional landscape for the listener to explore. The “meaning” was not in the lyrics themselves, but in the quirks between the notes, in the way the music interacted with the listener’s own internal world. These lyrical oddities, while perhaps intentional, served to disrupt the flow of the music and hindered my emotional connection with the song. It felt as if Dionela was more concerned with impressing the listener with his gimmicky vocabulary and hipstery-malalim-na-tagalog allusions than with conveying a genuine, authentic message. These seemingly random and often obscure references served only to distract and frustrate. They felt like buzzwords, designed to impress rather than to communicate. I found myself constantly searching for hidden meanings, trying to decipher the cryptic messages, but ultimately feeling more lost than enlightened.

Dionela’s linguistic gymnastics, reminiscent of Facebook and TikTok influencers using deep words and non-vernacular vocabulary to seemingly uplift the authenticity of the work, ultimately backfired. The artificial mix of old Filipino words with a totally new slang, coupled with the misalignment of lyrics with the musical beat, created a sense of dissonance that disrupted the intended emotional impact. This “brain rot pattern,” as I have come to call it, was further glazed with a low fidelity tune that becomes relaxing and numbing between the left and right ears, subliminally making you ignore the poetics of the craft. After all, lo-fi is supposed to vibe and not critic.

After picking that 5-kilogram sack of Jasmine Rice, I went straight to the cashier. The musical experience mirrored my tape receipt. The spending of PHP 3,343.18 doubled the initial budget, driven by a strange impulse fueled by the same kind of “lo-fi” experience – the soothing background music, the dim lighting, the effortless flow of the shopping cart. I emerged from the supermarket with a mountain of unnecessary items – a surplus of paper towels, a collection of hair ornaments I did not need, and, most tragically, no broccoli for my planned stir-fry. My Sunday experience mirrored the effect of Dionela’s music – a pleasant, even enjoyable experience, ultimately leading to a sense of disconnect from my original purpose and a slight feeling of regret.

Perhaps we are in a dystopic social media phase where we must re-engage with an art that numbs us from the realities of the world. The allure of the lo-fi aesthetic, with its promise of authenticity and intimacy, can inadvertently mask a deeper engagement with the art itself. In the pursuit of creating a “mood,” we may be inadvertently sacrificing the power of storytelling, the ability of art to challenge, to provoke, to truly resonate with the human experience.

A Look at Life and Love through Hiking Trails

Book Review: You are Here by David Nicholls

Upon receiving the kindle version of this novel, I thought to myself, “Wow, this could be my new life manual”, and I harked at the imagination because (1) I expected this to have less passionate and more pragmatic leads, and (2) I haven’t hiked Cumbria, only Pulag (and other mountain regions of Luzon) and Japanese alps.

The topography of the walking trails seemed to be wet and muddy even on the UK Summer as I read along, and it kind of contributed to the charming vibe of the reading experience. Marnie, the copyeditor who attained the WFH gig post pandemic lockdowns, finally embarked on a trip to the Northern England as she was seemingly forced by her friend Cleo (because the latter wanted the former to be “out there”), and met Michael, the geography teacher who has a complicated marriage.

What I find fascinating about this novel is how David inserted the narratives of the characters in the trails, describing the mood and the cadence of the story with the section of the trails they traverse. It’s very much different with Philippine mountains and terrains, but I am a bit envious that he was able to infuse the socially awkward conversations, and gushing then to lashing and those silent heaving moments. I remember hiking Batolusong with a tinder date and I only have heaves and sighs and random “tara, magpicture tayo dun!” because the mountains of Rizal is very hot in the summer. Maybe trekking Cumbria for ten days is good to win over a random friend (or a potential romance), or at least a good checkpoint if your special someone is still into you.

With all these walks, I find myself relatable to Marnie, as she has okay livelihood, sometimes sadgurl but oftentimes content. She has the discipline and a strong work ethic, hyperfocused on the deadline, and there are moments that she wakes up and simply looked at the ceiling. She has the moments where she is wary of romance, some snippets of curating her anecdotes, and trying her best to compartmentalize her breakdowns. What I can advise Marnie is that she can schedule her “crying session”. That way, she can be more productive when deadline is nearing, haha.

I also liked the open-ended tone of the novel, very much different from my OG life manual called One Day. Practicalities do come as a higher priority when you get older. Nonetheless, you have all the right to be hopeful and YOLO. I enjoyed my long and in-and-out reading pace because I have the leeway to check Cumbria on Googlemaps and hopefully save up some money to simulate the same in the future.

Kilome-kilome-kilometer Zero

Book Review: Kilometer Zero by Josue Mapagdalita

“Ella, kahit wala kang kotse, bakit kabisadong-kabisado mo ang dinadaanan natin?” Ito ang naging tanong ng isang officemate nang hinatid ko papuntang Ugong, ang barangay malapit sa aking maliit na bahay. Nang mabanggit kong nabatak ako ng patok jeep hits ng Stop N Shop-Cogeo ay natawa na lang sila dahil sa kwento ng nakabibingin biyahe na tumatagal dahil sa tindi ng trapik.

Tulad ng aklat na ito, ang haba ng binayahe ko:

1. Nakita ang sample sa Philippine Book Festival

2. May nagchismis sa PBF na mahilig magparaffle ang manunulat (kaya hindi binili)

3. Umasa sa Nakita sa Booksale pero Hindi Binili (wala pa rin akong badge!!!)

4. Nagdownload ng PDF format mula sa page ni Josue Mapagdalita (pero ang gulo ng PDF stamp sa bawat pahina)

5. Umasa ulit sa ikalawang raffle ni Nakita sa Booksale keme ang dami ko pang nai-tag na tao, nandamay na

6. Nanalo ng ibang libro sa Akdang Pinoy

7. Nag-binge hike sa Japan

8. Sumuko na at bumili na ng signed copy (salamat sa pa-message! sobrang na-appreciate ko!!!)

Ngl, nang mabasa ko ang unang kwento, nasa isip ko na baka pang-Young Adult ito — typical for teenager readers. Samahan mo pa ng makulay na pabalat ng aklat. Mapapa-uwu ka if teenager ka, pero sa tulad kong konting pikit bago ang kwarenta ay medyo na-weirduhan sa sarili. “Clickbait ba ito? Baka puru ganito, hugot na naman ba ito? Recycled content na ata ito eh!” Pero katulad ng bawat commute, samu’t-saring danas pala ang maba-vibes mo sa bawat kwento. Best to read the book one story per commute. Maganda talaga syang bitbit sa iyong byahe, na kaysa maburyo ka sa pagpila sa terminal, or mapasinghal ka sa puru pulang kotse ang nakikita sa daan, eh mahihigop ka sa mga sansaglit na sentimyento ng bawat dagli. Bigla kong naalala ang Suong ni Gerome Nicolas Dela Peña – ang koleksyon ng kanyang mga tweet. At gaya ng sa Suong, pwedeng simulan sa gitna ang aklat, tapos pwedeng mag-lipat-lipat. Dahil kung tutuusin, ang bawat biyahe natin ay hindi isang sprint, kundi isang marathon — isang combo ng samu’t-saring uri ng lakad at takbo.

Nagustuhan ko ang mabilis na dama ng sensibilidad, dahil naging intensyon pala ng manunulat na walang gender ang mga tauhan. Without gender assignments, we can lure ourselves in the stories with the touch of our personal histories and sagas. At mas nagustuhan ko ang “alingawngaw” ng koleksyon. Mula sa personal na hugot ng pag-ibig, lumalawak ang boses sa mas malaking mga bagay sa paligid: ang iba’t-ibang baitang ng manggagawang uri; ang hindi pagtuong-pansin sa ating personal na lagay (Mental Health) sa ngalan ng pag-grind; ang pagtalikod sa pinagmulang bayan at pangarap sa ngalan ng mas maalwal na buhay; at ang natitirang pait ng mga lumisan sa iyong buhay (Side note: sobrang nadali ako ng kwento na may biyaheng Sucat, nalungkot ako sa sarili kong mga college friends na hindi na nagkikita mula noong rehimeng Duterte, pero bago ang 2016 ay ang hilig na naming magreklamo kapag papuntang Town).

Sa larawang ito, nasa likod ng librong ito ang aming barangay hall. At base sa google maps, 18km ito mula sa Kilometer Zero. Wala lang, share. Pero maraming salamat sa akdang ito. Na-pwera-usog ang kagusutuhang kumpletuhin ang personal na sanaysay ng mga ligalig at lakbay (na hopefully, matapos ko nang matindi-tindi kasi puru pa rin sample size ang naipapasa, haha!)

The Forestry of Fiction

A Book Talakayan of Glenn Diaz’s Yñiga

Last Saturday, September 28, Pinoy Reads Pinoy Books (PRPB) discussed the Glenn Diaz’s second book, Yñiga for our Book Talakayan for the month. A contrast from the previous months, the book was a bit heavier on theme and discussion was done more intimately. Nontheless, we were able to spark the interest of our new book club attendess to chime in and get personal with the author about how he created the novel, its underlying themes and the process of building its series of events. We held the discussion in Harong Cafe, the headquarters of the Human Rights and People Empowerment Center (HRPEC).

We opened the discussion with the introduction of the new joiners, letting them say their horoscope signs and names of their pets if they have one. Like Yñiga who leans more on the horoscope, I prefer to know the demographics of the attendess so that I can leverage the temperament of the discussion.

The first question that comes to mind: how did the book emerge? Glenn answered that his second book is a manuscript out of his doctorate thesis from University of Adelaide, proving that the forest can be a setting, a novel’s design, and a device of discourse about the deep-rooted history of social activism, counter-insurgency, and our personal and collective traumas. “It’s like another thesis defense again!” Glenn gasped, as he talked about the Qualitative and the Academic nuances of the novel before traversing the creative pursuit. As an accountant with no experience in presenting qualitative thesis, I found this fascinating.

Unlike the first novel focusing on interweaving narratives, Yñiga focused more on the interweaving of timelines and in its spiral prose style. Glenn honestly mentioned about the thought process of trauma, quoting Lenin, “one step forward, two steps back.” The discussion was like paving a new walking path to the forestry of Glenn’s fiction, as Yñiga’s winding narrative requires patient exploration. Readers have to weave through the long paragraphs and sentences that doesn’t explicitly show if one is an internal dialogue or otherwise. Glenn trusted the readers to navigate the slow-burn prose. He candidly said, “Yñiga is like an edging reading experience”. When asked about memorable scenes, Glenn was personally proud of the “sepia moments”: those cinematic shots of Yñiga’s childhood flashing forward to her present, minutes before the suspense.

The members asked and commented about a different take of feminism in the novel; how the women were very much involved in the community and how it pales their personal relationships. Jayson also mentioned that despite Yñiga being an unlikeable character and being distant to the events that go on around her, and yet it contrasts to the lyrical beauty of the prose. Julian, an editor, mentioned about the sense of community in one of the important events of the novel. Perry asked about Glenn’s experience of putting a logical discourse to a craft seamlessly as this was manifested in the novel. Krystine, a new attendee, asked about the impression of using English as the main language of the novel as this would cater foreign readers more than to fellow Filipinos. Capping the discussion, Kwesi asked what’s next for Glenn, what are some of the project/s he is working on, or if he will write a novel in Filipino.

I closed the Book Talakayan with a jest of the “and so on and so forth”, Glenn’s inflections as a podcast co-host. Some picture-taking and book signing came after. In my mind, this quote from his other work When the World Ended I Was Thinking About The Forest resonated with the day’s book discussion, “I think what I’m trying to do is turn the uncertainty into a clearing; the terror, into a project. (A kaingin.)”

Glenn did it. Yñiga is his kaingin.

Nakakapagod na Kapangyarihan

Book Review of Ang Kapangyarihang Higit sa Ating Lahat by Ronaldo S. Vivo Jr.

Ang hirap.

Parang nanganay ako sa pagbabasa ng aklat na ito. Ganito ba talaga ang transgressive fiction? Masyadong nakakulong, at ang hirap i-ire at kumawala sa mundong ginagalawan nina Dodong, Buldan, Butsok, Marife, Myla, Atong, Jepoy at ng mga tsismosang kapitbahay na takot na takot makanti ng pulis.

Nakakatuwa lang na nadadama ko yung mapangahas na panulat ni Ronaldo Vivo at yung rigor nya sa paglikha. Na itong mismong Dreamland ay gustung-gusto na niyang isulat at ipakilala sa mundo. Nadama ko yung kawalang-tulog para mai-type at maiipon ang materyal, ang kawalang-pake sa paulit-ulit na mekanismo ng eksena ng panghahalay sa kapwa babae at lalake, ang pag-rehash ng pamamaraan ng pagpaslang at pagsisilid ng item, at kung paano niya naitagpi ang lahat at inilagay sa isang lalagyan. Nabigatan lang ako siguro dahil nasanay ako sa sensibilidad at relatability ng Bangin, at tila ayoko na rin balikan ang naging mga kwento ni Mama noong bata pa ako sa looban ng Pasay at mga gedli ng Pineda. Mahirap maging mahirap.

Nakakamangha at nakakatawa na may mga buong boses ang manunulat sa ibang mga eksena nito. Kapag narinig mo si Boss Vivo sa isang panayam, o kahit sa mga status nya sa facebook, malalaman mong sa kanya ang tinig. Ito ang halimbawa:

Ang hirap sa mga nasa posisyon, akala nila lahat ng tao ay kaya nilang ululin. Putsa, kahit mga tubong looban na hindi nasayaran ng edukasyon ang kukote, marunong ding mag-isip. Nagkataon lang na sila ang inarmasan ng gobyerno kaya ang lalakas ng loob ng mga putang ina, mga lasing sa kapangyarihan. Bawal magsabing kung anumang nasa isip, lalo kung ‘di maganda sa pandinig nila, dahil wala naman ni ga-kulangot na tutong na magandang msasabi tungkol sa kanila. Kaya ang mangyayari, mananahimik na lang kaysa tinggaan sa ulo.

Mas lalo akong natakot sa ginagalawan kong realidad dahil magsa-sampung taong gulang na ang libro, pero hindi pa rin nagbabago ang kahayupan ng kapulisan, at ang paningin sa mga maralita na parang basura lamang. Na tunay ngang ang mga nasa laylayan ang nagpapatayan habang ang mga nasa kapangyarihan ang nagpapakasasa ng kaban ng bayan.

Baler Moments

Initial Draft of my travel essays for compilations. Another shelf item.

Ikatlong biyahe ko na ito sa probinsya ng Aurora: 
1. Taong 2010 nang maliit pa ang Bay’s Inn at literal syang bungalow na may maraming kwarto at lugawan sa gitna. 
2. Taong 2019 nang unang umiyak sa takot na masaktan ng jowa-jowaan; at
3. Ngayong taon, dala ng inggit. 

Hindi ko mai-deny sa sarili na biglang naglilipana ang mala-Bathalang kasalanan ng inggit at tila linta kung kumapit. Naiinggit ako sa mga walang dala-dalang utang; sa may kakayanang mag-abroad nang walang inaalalang kaperahan; lalung-lalo na sa mga nakakapagsulat kahit sila ay nakatago sa sulok ng kanilang day jobs, o sa pagiging estudyante, o sa pagiging anak lang. Ganun. Andami kong planong isulat, gawing dumpster ang facebook. Pero kung ang profile ko ay magiging sanaysay ng mga reklamo, hindi maganda ang magiging ambag ko sa mundo (mapa-online o offline), at magiging footprint ko bilang user nito. 

Pero kalma lang kasi, Ella. Nai-address mo na yung isang linta ng inggit. Nakaligo ka sa dagat, naasinan ang sarili. May manaka-naka pang kaunti pero hindi pa naman niya nasisipsip ang kabuuan mo.
Eka nga ng manager ko kamakailan, “Ella, the world is your oyster.” Ang nasa isip ko paglabas ng napakahabang mentoring (at therapy) session ay “Kailangan kong kainin yang oyster bago ako lamunin ng mundo”. Kaya lang, walang oyster sa Baler. Calamares lang. 

Baler looks like a nice laid-back retirement place of passive income, surfing, and writing reflections. Siguro ito yung “if hindi kaya ng budget ang Iloilo” plan D ganern. 

Plan A: Delulu route to Europa
Plan B: Singapura wife at 66
Plan C: Chill Iloilo Auntie from Pasig

Pero bago ang mga delulu is the onli solulu lore, narito na at kahit paano’y naasinan na rin ang isang linta. Tignan mo, nakagawa ng maikling sanaysay. Iwo-workshop na lang pag-uwi sa bahay. Lamnan ng mga detalye ng biyahe bilang chance passenger, ang biglang pagkonti ng mga pasahero pa-Baler, ang ingay ng radio static ng bus na parang nagsesend ng morse code sa mga alien na nakaparada sa mangilan-ngilan na bituin, bago sila takpan ng ulop at bumuhos ang ulan, habang binabaybay nyo ang kahabaan ng Central Luzon expressway na tila minadali ng San Miguel Corporation kaya may kaunting bako kung saan. 

Rank G sa Bangin

Book Review: Ang Bangin sa Ilalim ng Ating mga Paa by Ronaldo S. Vivo Jr.

“Anong rank mo?”
“Mythic na. Hindi nga lang makalampas sa 25 stars. Laging akyat-baba sa RG.”
“Aahhh.”

Tatanong-tanong tapos hindi ako isasali sa rank gaming. Qiqil.

Hanabi main ako sa ML. Marksman ang pabebe role ko kapag nase-stress ako sa trabaho at gusto kong mantrashtalk. Ginagawa kong outlet ng galit ang ML. May mga araw na kahit antok na antok na ako ay iga-grind ko pa rin ito, kahit ang mga battle points naman dito ay hindi kayang maipalit as crypto. Also, bawal rin ang sugal sa mga katulad naming banker. Baka masisante ako sa trabaho.

Mula noong pandemic lockdown, nakahiligan ko na ang abugbog berna at ganking ng ML to the point na lahat ng galit ko — mula sa trabaho, sa binabasa kong libro, sa sitwasyon ng mundo — iminumura ko sa mga bonak kong kalaro. Madalas, wala akong kasamang tank na makikisayaw sa rambol, o magti-TP man lang para mang-istir, o iikot at dadalaw sa lane ko habang nang-iipon ako ng pambili ng item para mas lalong lumakas. Lalo akong nagaglit kapag sunud-sunod ang lose streak. Kapag limang sunud-sunod, nakakagago. Mas masarap magmura. Mas masarap sabunutan ang kalarong hindi mo makikita kahit surang-sura ka na. Hanggang sa ang galit na iyon ang magpapaapoy para ituloy ang laro, at hindi ko namamalayang ninanakawan na ako ng oras ng pagtulog.

Ganitong level ng galit ang naramdaman ko habang binabasa ko ang nobela ni Bhosz Vivo mamen. Nakakagagong isinasampal sa akin na mula noong mamulat ako sa Mabangis na Lungsod ni manong Efren Abueg ay hindi pa rin nagbabago ang bulok na ugali ng mga pulis. Kung sinong dapat ang tutulong sa iyo… naku, kapag napagtrip-an ka, silang mismo ang papaslang sa iyo. Ang daming poot habang binabasa ko ang bawat galaw nito nina Rey at Benjo. Ride or die talaga ang overdrive adventure nila. Feeling ko hindi Hanabibi ang peg nito ni Rey, mas fighter siya katulad ni Aulus. Tangan-tangan ang pambihirang martilyo, nilibot niya ang mala-jungle na kamaynilaan, matunton laman ang tunay na lokasyon ng nawawalang anak na si Alison. Tapos, tank partner niya si Benjo, Belerick lang na may vengeance na battle spell. Para kapag sinaktan ang beshie, mas malakas ang kanyang ulti. Buma-bounce-back sa kalaban ang tinitira, at siguradong KS na ni Aulus. Este, ni Rey pala.

Mas damang-dama ko ang sensibilidad ng akda, kasi napuntahan ko na ang ibang mga nabanggit na lugar sa nobela: ang Brgy. Sta. Rosario na isang ilog lang ang pagitan sa Comembo, ang Overlooking view sa Antipolo, ang Mandaluyong Maysilo kung saan naroon ang mga nag-e-ML na pulis, ang Simbahan ng Pateros, at ang mapulang ilaw at mapanghing chongki-an ng Poblacion. Speaking of chongki, naisip ko na ring minsan na umupo sa gedli at sumindi ng doobie, tas kahit ang sangsang ng boga mo eh parang nagkakaroon ka ng powers tapos mapapakanta na lang ng mahiwaga, mahiwa-marijuana shotgun shotgun ganja ganja buddha buddha. Parang siguro ang sarap din maging hipster pusher na hakdog na ganda lang ang puhunan sa gimikan, tapos may sanlibo ka nang maisusuksok sa bra.

Pero feeling ko, hindi layunin ng mga akdang tulad ni Bhosz Vivo mamen ang mainggit ka sa pagiging out-of-touch na mga nilalang na katulad ni Katrina. Mas gusto niyang hamigin ang iyong konsensya sa pagpapakilala niya sa mga katulad ni Manang Belen na walang alam kundi pumalahaw ng luha at magsumbong sa kalangitan para sa hustisya ng pinaslang niyang anak, at ginawang sisidlan ng bato. Putangamang eksena yun, hindi ko na mawala sa puso ang guilt-trip malala. Rekta sa konsensya. Sa tuwing nababasa ko ang mga ganung eksena, naalala ko yung pabalang kong sagot kay Manong FSJ kung bakit ko binoto si Duterte. Sumalangit nawa ang perennial wisher ng Nobel Lauriat kineso, pero mas nahihindik ako nang marinig muli ang distant echo ng aking edgy hipster voice:

“Binoto ko sya kasi gusto kong makita ang Pinas ay nasusunog. Para Lalo tayong magalit, at sana, dito tayo magsimulang kumilos. Dala ang galit, mas kilala na natin ang malaking kalaban.”

Huli ko nang ma-realize na hindi lang isang buktot na Doturtle ang big boss. Dadaan pala tayo sa isang masalimuot na makinarya ng facebook playbook at troll farms at mind-conditioning ng kapwa pinoy, at makakasalubong natin sa social media ang mga kalamnan at diwa ni Monching na DDS forever hanggang mategi.

Inangyan, andaming bonak sa lipunan. Hindi lang sila sa ML makikita talaga. At ayoko sanang maging ganun ka. Sana, kapag makaipon-ipon ka ng kaunting pera, bilhin mo itong nobela. Umupo ka sa gedli, pagnilayan ang ika-15 kabanata:

“Kinokoronahan ang demonyo sa panahong ito at alam nilang nasa panig nila ang marami. Kapangyarihan, impluwensya, simpatya. Lunod na lunod sa saya, lasing na lasing sa ligaya. Dugo’t luha ang langis ng giyerang minamakina.”

Tangan ang galit, magsimulang magbitbit ng martilyo. Bilang kolektibo, mag-rank-up tayo.

Hindi Exotic na Kwento

Book Review of Tabaco: Tatlong Sanaysay by Niles Breis

“Yung boses mo sa panulat, ikaw na ikaw. Buo ang boses mo. Ang tanong ngayon, ano ang iyong magiging kwento?” 

Dalawang beses ko pa lamang nakita si sir Niles at ito ay dahil lamang sa pagbabalik-loob ko sa Pinoy Reads Pinoy Books book club ngayong taon. Ang mga ganitong minsanan ay nagagawi sa inuman at kultura, kasama ng mga kinagisnan at karanasan sa pagiging mambabasa at manunulat. Nang first time kong narinig ang pangalan niya sa mga kapwa miyembro, hindi ko pa nakikita yung kanyang mga akda. Binigyan ako ng sample / excerpt ng Rubrica, isang collection ng mga tula na hindi ko maintindihan, siguro dahil hindi ako batikan sa paglikha nito. 

Sa ikalawang salubong ko sa kanyang gawa, nakita ko itong Tabaco na tangan-tangan ni Jayson na naglalaman ng mga sanaysay, at sa hindi ko mawaring dahilan, medyo nainggit ako dahil sa kakaibang mga paksang naglalaman nito. Ganito rin ang inggit na nararamdaman ko sa tuwing nakakabasa ako ng mga kalipunan ng sanaysay sa mga nagdaang Palanca awardees. Natatanong ko rin kung may karapatan pa ba akong magkwento? Kasi unang-una, hindi naman exotic ang mga naranasan ko. Walang urban legend sa barangay ko, walang matandang buruka o kumander nognog, hindi rin naman ako pumasok sa isang seminaryo, at sobrang sheltered ako sa aking public elementary and high school. 

Exotic bang maituturing ang isang baklang baliw sa Talipapa ng Pembo na pinangalanan kong Alejandro (sa aking isip) dahil minsang sinigawan akong, “Ako ang dakilang Lady Gaga!”? Hindi ko nga mailaban yun sa kwentong Tawi-tawi ni Atom Araullo eh, lalo na sa mga kwentong Some People Need Killing ni Pat Evangelista. Anu’t-anuman, parang nagiging tila ordinaryo na ang araw-araw kong danas. At kahit hindi naman talaga maipupulis ang sariling danas, ay nahihirapan akong itagpi at itahi ito bilang isang kwentong magkakaroon ng panawagan sa pagbabago. 

Pero kailangan bang laging may panawagan sa isang sanaysay? Hindi ba pwedeng isang pagbabalik-tanaw ito sa isang nakaraan at magtala ng kasaysayan? Ganito kasi ang vibes ni sir Niles sa kanyang mga sanaysay. Hindi naman talaga kailangan parating may panawagan. Ang mahalaga, naihulma ng iyong tinig ang hugis, at amoy, at ang pakiramdam ng mundong kinagalawan mo noon. Isang pagtatala ng nakaraan na hindi mawawala sa iyo, lalo na’t alam nating mapaglaro rin ang ating mga alaala. 

Nagulat ako sa librong naging tangan-tangan ko na biglang naluma kakabulatlat at kakahanap ng mga danas na exotic o kakaiba, pero kung tutuusin, hindi masyado kaiba ang kanyang mga kwento. Nagkataon lang ang lahat ng danas nya ay tungkol sa bayan ng Tabaco, pero hindi lang sya ang kilala kong pumasok ng seminaryo (at lumabas), o nakakilala ng mataray na matandang laging nag-iisa. Ang nakakaaliw at nakakaganda ng mga kwento ay kung paano niya ito isulat, at ano ang naging konteksto noong unang panahon. Naging tangible para sa akin yung rehistro nya ng bicolano at tagalog bilang promdi, kakarampot na pag-iingles (na maaaring naisulat bago sumikat ang blogging at facebook), at ang machong boses (na minsan kinaiiritahan ko as a #teata, char). 

Siguro ito yung gusto nya makita rin sa magiging akda ko, kung paano ilalapat ang isang kwentong nakaka-relate ang kahit sino, pero may boses at rehistrong akong-ako, at walang makakagaya nito. Siguro, next time na yung panawagan sa pagpapataas ng antas ng panitikan, kasi hindi naman ako batikang kwentista. Nagsisimula pa nga lang ako, bibigyan agad ng pressure? Eh di malamang, tatalikuran ko iyan at babalik sa pagbabasa. 

Pero hindi, gusto ko ring maging kwentista tulad nila.

439

Book Review of Suóng: Mga Aporismo ng Paglusong at Pagsulong by Gerome Nicolas Dela Peña

Isa sa mga naging goal ko ngayong taon ay simulan ang pagtanim ng pagkakakilanlan sa mundo ng panulat. At maging intentional ang pagbabasa. Magkaroon ng clinical eye, kung baga. Matagal ko nang ginagawa itong mga sanaysay pero nakalagak lang sa aking website. Hopefully, lalong lumakas ang loob na itong ilimbag at ipakita sa madla.

Nang mabili ko ito sa nakaraang Philippine Book Festival at mapapirma ko ito kay Gerome, bigla syang nagtanong, “From 1 to 500, pumili ka ng paboritong number.”

Sagot ko, “439”. Isang prime number, isang alaala ng pag-iisa.

Nang mabuksan nya ang libro, sinabi nya sa akin:

Sana tulad noong bata, kahit gaano ka habulin ng problema, pwedeng taym pers muna.

Very apt, koya. Tila ba’y nagmamadali sa pinangako sa sarili (ngayong taon).

Dalawa ang atake ng pagbabasa nitong Suong: Mga Aporismo ng Paglusong at Pagsulong. Pwede mong basahin nang isang upuan, o pwede mo syang berso sa araw-araw buong taon (actually, lampas pa, 500 verses eh). Pinili ko ang una kasi ganito ang balak kong gawin since 2016 – ipunin ang lahat ng tweet ng galit at gawin itong maikling manual ng pagtitimpi. Or mga sipat ng kapararakang lokohan sa mga naging lalake kong hindi nila alam kung boyfriend ko ba sila. Pero muli’t muli, naunahan na naman ako sa istilo ng pag-iipon ng tweets. Nagsimula si Egay nito nakaraang pandemic lockdowns sa kanyang Hindi Tayo Tinuturuan Kung Paano Hindi na Magmahal, tapos nakita ko itong Suong na naging finalist sa nakaraang National Book Awards ng NBDB.

Napadpad ako sa mga kwentong hugot, at mga sawing pakiramdam ng pag-ibig, patungo sa ligaya at lungkot ng pag-iisa, patungo sa manaka-nakang self-help ala Mark Manson. And for some reason, trigger na trigger ako sa mga minsanang sapak ng utos. Kung ako sa inyo, mas magaan kung gawin ninyong random ang pagbabasa nito, lalo na’t kung punung-puno ang utak at ang EQ sa araw-araw na bugbog ng hanapbuhay; kung ayaw nyong makaranas ng samu’t-saring damdamin na nakakabaliw sa isang bagsak ng magdamagan. Siguro, pwede itong basahin katulad ng pakikinig sa mahabang discography ng favorite mong Tay-tay (bilang Swiftie).

May munti lang akong hiling, lalo na sa 8letters na naglimbag nito:
1. Sana nai-recode ito as actual tweet. Kunyaring screenshot. Madali lang siguro mag-CSS lalo na kung ang mismong copyeditor at publisher ay mulat sa Myspace.
2. Sana ang pag-spine ay matibay-tibay. Yung kopya ko kasi medyo bumibigay yung gitna. Lalo na’t ang hilig ko sa marginalia. Or siguro, ganito ako sumipat ng akda, barumbada. Medyo binubulatlat ko talaga bawat pahina para makasulat sa taas, o sa gitna o sa gilid. At may minsanang drama rin ng pag-upload sa IG Story tapos ita-tag ko ang may-akda.

Siguro nga’y binasa ko ito nang may pagmamadali, o maaaring may bahid ng paghahanap ng mali. Hindi ko rin buong masabi, kasi sa isang banda, kinaiinisan ko ang aking sarili na naungusan na naman akong muli — lalung-lalo na sa lakas ng loob kung paano ilalapat ang lahat sa panulat. Pero nailikom ng aklat na ito ang aking danas sa araw-araw na pagharap sa personal na buhay at sa sanlaksang Kamaynilaang kinagagalawan. In one of the discussions with Jessie, I asked him, “Ano na ba talaga ang ambag nating mga millenial?” Kasi kung tutuusin, hindi tayo mulat sa Call to Action, kasi unang-una pa lang, hindi tayo pinalaki sa Collective Action ng ating magulong 3rd world na bayan. Puno tayo ng isla, watak na watak mula sa rehistro ng wika, pulitika, at mga personal na danas at pakikibaka.

Tapos randomly, nakita ko itong tweet verse 371 ni Gerome:

Wala nang mas hihigit pa sa kababaihang nagagamit ang kanilang tinig para sa ikakabuti ng bayan.

Baka nga ang misyon ko bilang isang moderator na babae ng aming bookclub ay maging tagatala ng mga mabilisang saglit na karanasan sa aming social media, tagalathala ng mga sentimyento sa nababasang aklat, at pag-abot ng lahat ng iniisip at dinadama mula sa manlilikha patungo sa taong willing na magkonsumo nito. Kaya kayo-kayo, lapitan nyo si Gerome, subukan ang kanyang Suong, at pwedeng sa isang raw, pumili kayo ng random number from 1-500.

At sana, ang piliin nyo ay yung divisible by 2.