Goddess

Goddess

My lover awaits you

Hurry into his dreams

Step into his songs

His poetry crafted after the

gentle curves of your

gentile silhouette

Down the tower you climb

Out of coffee-stained pages you rise

Into the water you wade

Trees whisper your name

Where is he? My lover

Its leaves rustle

They echo his name

I searched in frantic

Juxtaposed light and shadows

Untangled space and time, there

My lover lounging on your bosom

Prisoner to your embrace

Drunken in the

salty liquid of your desire

Goddess

Conniving
Evil
Bitch

You will not suck him dry

Your constellation will soon fall

On the morrow, he will be mine

* V-Ray, #1 of Goddess series

* image: http://kimolsen.files.wordpress.com/2007/08/goddess-3.jpg

D Ville

Patience is a virtue I have had difficulty learning. I am happy to say that in my 27 years of existence, almost akin to treading in water, a girl has to learn what she has to learn lest she drowns.

I learned, yeah, but it seems the patient me has gotten herself confined only in the workplace. Outside the BPI building, hell may break loose. You don't want to be around me when that happens. Ask my sister. Ask O.

On Wednesday morning, my sister and I got duped into wasting over 45 minutes of our precious shopping time with an agent who was blabbing about how we should start saving our mulah today.

The truth is, whenever I go to Megamall, I patiently check the shops out. Only when my heels start to scream, nicely designed sweet-smelling shopping bags are fully loaded on both arms (OK, I'm exaggerating but how I wish!), and my beloved plastic has gone brittle from too much swiping, will I wake up from this tantric experience and tell myself, "Enough is enough!" Oh well... We know this didn't and will never happen, God forbid. Honestly? I stop when confronted with the thought my hair will start to fall from eating pancit canton for the rest of the month.

There's only one thing I avoid at Megamall and that's the throng of agents strategically positioned at hallways on every floor, except for the basement where it is mostly kid's stuff. The mall has ceased to be just an abode for food court, the cinema, National Bookstore, a few novelty finds here and there, and clothing. It has now gone to retailing houses, land, fitness, health, financial stability, and, yes, our future. You can get them on bargain too!

The trick here is to avoid eye contact. Stick to the shops because the moment you lock eyes with an agent calling out to you, you will find yourself in a well-adorned office on the 5th floor with another agent, who insists he is a "consultant" by the way and seems to hold a Guiness record for the most number of unintelligible words per minute. He will promise to take only 45 minutes of your time but even after 30 minutes, also known as "eternity", he wouldn't be done with the introductions yet.

He tells you he's from UP Diliman. Don't ever say "Really?" when you're just secretly wondering whether your taxes are even allotted for education in the country because his reply to that is, "Yes. UP Diliman. In Quezon City." You will then wonder if this guy probably thinks you're that stupid you don't even know where UP Diliman is.

I'm sorry to tell you but you are now in D Ville, damned to listen to nonsensical chatter on securing the future by charging your credit card P16,000. Before you decide to continue on your journey of the, uh, underworld, allow me to scatter pieces of bread along the way so you can find your way back out.

* Your "consultant" will ask to see your credit card a number of times. If you want to be polite, make sure to cover the digits with a finger. Better yet, tell him flat out that you're not giving your card number away. Expect a change of strategy on his end. If you can't help it, ask your card company to cancel the number out. Most card companies will have a new card sent to you in 3 banking days.

* Never trust a "consultant", or any person for that matter, who isn't wearing a watch. I have a thing for this. If a man wants to talk business with me, he needs to get himself a good-looking counter. If he can't afford a brand he can't pronounce right because he-will-only-sound-like-his-tongue-is-sparring-with-an-ice-cube, a stainless Seiko will do just fine.

* Your "consultant" will try to convince you to sign up TODAY. Don't. Weigh your options well.

* Your "consultant" will show you his clients' statements of account to entice you into signing up with them. A financial company should not be doing this at all. A client's statement of account is supposed to be confidential.

* Your "consultant" will have a lot in common with you. If you're from Zamboanga, he's from Zamboanga too. If you're working at an office found in the RCBC building in Makati, then he will tell you he used to work at RCBC. If your dad is a seaman, his uncle is one too. If you say your mom is no longer living, he will say his father has just passed away, and later, he will slip by saying he comes from a broken family.

* Never ever go just by what the "consultant" tells you. Check the company out from other sources.

* When it comes to finances, it is always best to invest in more established institutions. There will always be risks but you are surely not minimizing the risks by investing in a 2-year old company that sucks up to a 43-year old insurance corporation for credibility. Your "consultant" will tell you that they are a holdings company with investments in this much older corporation. (Sweet Jesu! I invested in a 100-year old company and I still say my prayers everytime I go to the Stocks section in the papers.)

I hope you will never find yourself in D Ville but if you do, investing (or not!) your money is your decision to make.

Honestly? If 45 minutes of crap seem like an eternity, impatience helps. Forget forbearance. Be a bitch and simply walk away.

Neil Gaiman for the First Time

I could not wait to take a break.

In a week's time, I am flying my bee-hind to a place down South with beaches nearby, more beautiful than Boracay and more serene than Palawan. They say one island is hailed by many diving magazines as one of the 10 most beautiful dive sites in the world. My friend L says he digs it better than El Nido.

I've got everything ready except for my, yes, bee-hind which begins to plummet, where else but, south. It looks heavier now and I swear I've been only eating 1 meal a day. I have yet to open an email sent to me by R; it's this "be-model-thin-in-one-week" diet plan where you get to eat fruits and...shoot!...oh well, I really need to get to that email soon.

I am most excited by the thought of getting my fingers through the pages of Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book. You see, I have never read Neil Gaiman but I've heard a lot about him from friends. J from Vanda could talk for hours about nothing but Sandman and T has Gaiman, I suppose, on her list of "Men I Want To Marry".

I will have plenty of time to myself because O will be spending most of the day working. Yes, my (only) one surprised and bitter reader, O will be on vacation while working. I, on the other hand, will roam around the resort, finally figure out how my camera works, eat anything I want, and get to know Gaiman through The Graveyard Book. All is fair...

Oh yes-- I got interested in Gaiman when he, deadpan, got even with Stephen Colbert. I enjoy Colbert for his narcissism, his satirical delivery of political and the not-so political issues, and his comedic jabs on his guests. Colbert is so funny even his guests lose focus. But not Neil Gaiman. Not French high wire artist Philippe Petit (but that's another story).

I need a smoke.

When I come back, from my vacation that is, I hope I'll be inspired to write about the book. Who knows, I may even add Gaiman to my own list of "Men I Want To Marry".

We'll see.

Chefs' Quarter

A couple of days ago, my sister and I decided to check out the food stops at SM Megamall's Atrium. Since I've eaten in most of the restaurants there with O, I suggested, to which my sister readily agreed since I was gonna pay the bill, to try out (for the first time) Chefs' Quarter.

Chefs' Quarter first opened at Midtown, the expansion wing of Robinsons Place Ermita. Another branch is located in Eastwood Mall and this one at Atrium is the most recent.

We got there at 1:15 PM, which was a little bit late for lunch (don't you think?), and so we took a few moments in deciding to go for a la carte or the buffet. Prices average at P300-P400 a la carte and the buffet costs P495. The buffet usually ends at 2 PM but, according to Jermie (shoot! I'm not sure if that was it on his name tag), it continues on for as long as patrons kept coming back to the table. Here's the thing- we only asked him what time the buffet ends but he gave us an unsoliscited advice to go for the buffet if we ate too much. My sister's eyebrows arched on reflex. I beg my sister to ignore the waiter because I'd like to eat with happy thoughts.

We diverted our attention to the interiors instead, which was inviting and not intimidating. I like the play of colors on one side of the room- cream, adobe, and lemon green. Gold-framed mirrors against lemon green walls look good pala.

On the other side is a brick wall where they keep their collection of wine. Their Wine List include reds like Shiraz and Merlot, and Sauvignon Blanc if you wanna go white. They also have wines coming from Chile, Australia and South Africa.

Finally, we decided to go for the buffet not because we "ate too much" (actually, we do...) but because we want to taste a bit of everything. We had Lettuce soup and salad greens for starters. I also tried Salmon Carpaccio, but waited for my lemons in vain. The main courses include Roast Beef, Roasted Chicken, Mashed Potatoes on the side, Grilled Fish Fillet (Lapu-Lapu I suppose), and Paella.

Their Pasta Bar include Penne, Spaghetti, Fettucini, and you can have it cooked in either Pesto or Vegetable sauce. My sister is naturally repelled to anything green in food because she associates it with veggies so she went for the Vegetable sauce, which was red-colored, on her Spaghetti. The Vegetable sauce is actually just tomato sauce with diced zucchini (at least that was the only veggie I recognized) but our Vegetable sauce was a little bit too spicy. I'm sure I would have done a better job!

There were other dishes on the buffet table but I suppose, and I quote Simon Cowell when I say-- they were forgettable. Don't get me wrong; the food wasn't so bad but it wasn't extraordinary either.

Desserts are another story. Thank God for desserts! I'm not really sure if Chefs' Quarter's desserts are that good or any dessert is good for that matter. I tried Ube Creme Brulee (this is a must-try!), and Chocolate Fountain with fruits and mashmallows to dip (I can die now...). I remember a Sunday buffet I went to at Mandarin (a friend's GC made it possible) and their Dessert Bar occupied one wall of, say, Chefs' Quarter. The only regret I had when I was going through my sweet options was that desserts aren't appetizers.

Now that I was full, I couldn't help get back to dissing our waiter. Jermie (his name leaves a bad taste in the mouth- forgive the pun) was so much wanting in grace and refinement that maybe he thought he was waiting on a fast food joint rather than on a fine dining restaurant, even though this fine dining restaurant serves fine dining on a budget (works for the recessionista in me).

To cap my lunch buffet experience at Chefs' Quarter, I'd say P495 ain't bad at all but it's not worth coming back to.

Try this one out:

*image from www.pentik.com

Salmon Carpaccio

Marinate thin slices of fresh salmon fillet in lemon juice, salt, and pepper. Let it marinate for 15-20 minutes but never over 30 minutes. Remember, you want your salmon raw. After marinating, transfer the salmon onto another dish. Garnish it with slices of lemon on the side. You can also sprinkle fresh herbs but I suggest you go for herbs with texture and a subtle flavor. Or you can always use fresh basil, which almost always goes with everything. Enjoy!

Redemption

Ok, so right now I'm chatting with O. and we are trying to revive our old accounts online. O. more determined now than ever, particularly on Multiply, because he's been seeing his poems posted on other people's sites.

"I'm getting my poems back!" He said.

"You don't have a blog. What did you expect?" I, half-heartedly, berated him.

And now...he just got an email from Blogger asking him to wait while they verify his account isn't spam.

Poor O.

I was partly the reason why he stopped posting online.

Ponder...

"Into each Life, some rain must fall."

Ang Himig Natin

I should say many of us can listen to a song over and over, and over, again until our desire to throw up gets in the way of fun. I have one of my favorites which I’ve been enjoying for the nth time as I am writing this.

First, here’s an excerpt from ‘Ang Pagbabalik ng’ Juan dela Cruz by Igan D’ Bayan…

“In one hazy, green-tinted day in the ’70s, just before the guys of Juan dela Cruz - Joey “Pepe” Smith, Wally Gonzalez and Mike Hanopol - were about to play a gig at the Luneta, Pepe found himself in a toilet at the Luneta Observatory, scribbling lyrics on a sheet of toilet paper.”

“I wrote a song about 20 minutes before we got onstage,” Pepe recalls, adding that he wanted to write a song with the same title as that of the gig: Ang Himig Natin. So, he ended up in the ladies’ room (since the men’s room was full) writing what has become the “national anthem” of the Pinoy Rock generation, and arguably the best OPM song ever written.”

My introduction to the band came on one rockin ‘n rollin night at UP Fair. I believe it was Liza who invited me to this event when I was still a Freshman. (I miss you Liz!) Anyway, it was this one evening at the fair and it smelled ganja in the air. I honestly didn’t know anything about ganja in those days as I was only 15. Back then I thought the stench was a cocktail of too much cigarettes, too much booze, as well as puke, and, because it rained earlier that day, wet grass. So I was right one out of three—it stunk of grass that night!

I was with High School classmates and we were crossing the street towards the open field of jumping, and jumpy, boys and girls when a guy randomly passed by us as he was exaggeratedly swaying his hips. This guy was obviously straight, drunk, and loud. I asked myself, “What’s an old fart, a very old fart in this case, doing at a UP Fair?” I figured he was taking his Masters degree 5 times over and so I let him pass any more scrutiny from me.

“Do you know who he is?” asked one of my more musically-inclined classmates.

“Pepe Smith. He’s popular.” He said.

“I see. No wonder he looks familiar. What horror films did he star in?” I was serious.

Needless to say, I got a crash course on 70s Rock Music from my friends later that evening who, I’m now guessing, might have considered not tagging me along at the next UP Fair. And yes, they did point out that Pepe Smith is the “Father of Pinoy Rock Music” and stared at me like I crucified the guy to the cross.

Anyway, I later came to genuinely like the Juan Dela Cruz Band. Pepe Smith together with Mike Hanopol and Wally Gozalez form this great band. I learned that I had gotten to listen to some of their tracks in a lot of places even when I was little. Hits such as Beep, Beep, Titser’s Enemy No.1, Laki sa Layaw, and, definitely, Ang Himig Natin. They’re the only band that has remained in the Filipino consciousness for over 30 decades now. And you have to admit, nothing or no one rocks the stage or Arina like Pepe.

I hope he forgives a fifteen-year-old girl’s blunder though. Whoever she was- that girl!

Ang Himig Natin

Ako’y nag-iisa
at walang kasama
di ko makita
ang ating pag-asa

Ang himig natin
ang inyong awitin
upang tayo’y magsama-sama
sa langit ng pag-asa

Ako’y may kaibigan
at s’ya’y nahihirapan
handa na ba kayong lahat
upang s’ya’y tulungan

Ang himig natin
ang inyong awitin
upang tayo’y magsama-sama
sa langit ng pag-asa

Ang himig natin
inyong awitin
ang himig natin
inyong awitin
ang himig natin
inyong awitin

Anonymous Kitchen

A friend, once dear, told me that the hardest part about having a broken heart is dining alone.

On a cold January morning, I was Kitchen’s first customer, sans the broken heart, but it was very sad nonetheless. While waiting for my Salmon and consciously sipping my Pandan Iced Tea, I was not oblivious to the fact that I was the only diner in Greenbelt 3 with my beehind for a companion. So as not to stare straight ahead like a harlot waiting for her amore, I pretended to be occupied with writing. In truth, I was berating myself for not tagging Sudoku along.

Slowly I pick up the pieces of a broken heart,
Shattered by an unwitting shadow of days gone by. And
Even when pain is silenced by space and time,
It illuminates in the darkness of the night. Oh
Let a dying Casanova resurrect this heart of mine!
Slowly I pick up the pieces,
Gently I mend.

Rain Thoughts

It started drizzling and for a seven-year old girl, it was like the ice cream man’s bell ringing. She started for the door but grandmother stopped her. “Ok,” said grandmother, “but only for a little while.” Mother, always the cool woman she was, simply smiled. Grandfather stared straight ahead but she knew him too well. He was her favorite of all.

The door flew open and freedom smelled of grass and wet earth. Children’s laughter, and teeth chattering, blended melodiously with the spatter of raindrops on rooftops nearby. And then it poured. It poured heavily. The voices grew louder. The spatter turned to splatter and there were splashes everywhere. The children jumped from one puddle to another joyfully, delighted in what the heavens have brought them. “’Tis not going to rain this hard tomorrow so let us steal as much time away from home as we can!”

Memories of a decade gone by, of thousands of isles away, and of innocence lost. Today, when it rains, it simply pours. I sit by the window, take a careful sip from my cup, and stare out, a bit annoyingly. Sometimes I catch myself hoping for children to be out there like we used to but I seldom find any. I muse at the thought of starting for the door like I used to and Grandmother would stop me like she used to, and jump in the rain and linger there as if it were my last.

Weekend in Galera

On Saturday afternoon last week, my workmates and I braved the tides of Oriental Mindoro to enjoy the beaches of Puerto Galera, a getaway haven to most Manila urbanites. We took a 2-hr bus ride from the terminal at Taft Avenue to Batangas Pier. I thought we were lucky to catch the last ferry trip at 4:00 P.M. but, drat, we spent almost 2 hours in it. The ferry didn’t go straight to White Beach, where we were destined, but had to make a stopover at Sabang Beach. One of the passengers exclaimed he would be kissing ground when we reach “harbor”. We didn’t kiss ground but it felt like touchdown getting off the ferry and feeling the sand with the soles of my feet.

On Sunday morning, we went snorkeling and visited an island devoid of the party atmosphere found in White Beach. Since there were more than 10 of us, we only paid P150 each for a big bangka (pumpboat) to bring us to the site. There were a number of smaller bangkas waiting there, willing to bring you around the site for P70 each. All we had to do was hold on to the bangka’s sides and experience the beauty that lay down under. We saw corals, clownfishes, big blue starfishes, anemone, gigantic(!) sea urchins, and a lot more I could not name (unfortunately). Their magnificence right in my face…

We had dinner at Italian Pizzeria, a new addition to White Beach since I first visited it last year. The pizzeria is situated at the end of White Beach, just before you cross over to Tamaraw Beach Resort. My friend Migs texted me and said the view was not to be missed. I didn’t. The view from up where we dined was the perfect culmination for an enjoyable morning.

We had Aglio e Olio, Pizza de Pirata (with ham and Italian sausages), and Hawaiaan Pizza. The two pizzas were great, straight from the oven. The pasta on the other hand was not al dente; if it stayed 2 minutes more in boiling water, it would have been perfect! I thank Dave for giving the waitress special instructions for my Mango Shake– more of the mango fruit and a little bit of dairy. Apart from the fact that I am lactose-intolerant, my shake was better than Regina’s. I think each of the 5 of us shelled out around P300, not bad for a good meal. Oh yeah, we scored a slice of Tiramisu each (on the house!) as courtesy for Dave’s inconvenience; his cappuccino was the first to be ordered but served last.

We went back to the center of White Beach and found a not-so-sober Maki, tattooed and braided, calling on us to get a henna tattoo from this shop just beside the White Beach Restaurant. She made friends with the manager and artists. She got discounts for friends who decided to get a tattoo. J and Dave had theirs done permanently, and Nicca had a henna of her name on the ankle only for P100.

Later in the night, the people at a nearby bar, Miko’s Bar, got excited. We went to check it out and found a show that just got started. I don’t know what it’s really called except that it was hilarious and fun to watch– three drag queens doing impressions of Beyonce, Mariah, and Tina Turner. Dave, Regina, and Cathy decided to stay (and drink) and told me later the queens had a silly dance step of a popular station ID, “Makulay and buhay...”

By the way, don’t miss Mindoro Sling, it’s the cocktail while (you’re) in Galera. It’s a concoction of rhum, orange juice, mango juice, grenadine syrup, and Sprite, served with slices of apple. Get the pitcher if you’re with a small group, which makes it cheaper than ordering by the glass.

When it started to drizzle, I knew I had to call it a night. My Galera getaway ends the morning after, back to Manila I will and back to the corporate jungle I shall.

To Do/Go List next time I visit Galera:
* Tamaraw Falls
* Diving (for Oscar)
* Drink, Drink, Drink

Last Night

Last night

My bed was a placid sea
Of lucid premonitions
Like gentle waves
They frolicked in my sleep
Away from the day’s delirium

Last night
Your eyes were like the setting sun
Still and distant
They sank over the horizon
As the night embraced me
Into your dark spell

Last night
I drank wine
From your intoxicating mouth
Your lips supple like grapes
Of red and satin thirst
I drowned in your abysmal kisses

Tonight
I stare at white sheets
And close my eyes
Visions of your naked skin appear
Like dandelions from the midnight sky
Brush my chest with subtlety

Tonight
I caress your hair
When dreams beset me
Like a dark river your hair
Flows through my body
And bathe me with temptation

Tonight
I close my eyes
And await your silhouette
Dreams of naked promises
Of pillowing and stained sheets
Your starlit eyes and venomous lips

The night
My abyss of secrets and dreams
Eyes closed from the tempest
Unlit room and shadowy blanket
I wait for my midnight visitor
Every night, like the night before that.

- Shogunoka, 11/2008

Whisper

I think I should go now,
I must leave before my --- much the sunrise
No more coffee will pull off today,

I stood too long,
In the shadow of a doubt, I need some sun,
It seems the time returns to me once more,
But I have less now then before,

And when I feel my world falling down,
I think of you, I think of you,
And when I feel I cant breath no more,
You speak to me, you speak to me,

When the brightest star,
Smiles as its --- quit shoulders with the night,
You let that going --- ambers of my own light,
Do you know?
Your words can track the moon down from the sky,
So choose my frozen heart with your work right,
You really made me listen from a voice,
And I had millions,

When you fell,
I see your visionary thoughts be front your blood,
Crumps of lovers drowning in the same floor,
I miss the beauty of your young black skin,
I thought that freedom,
Could only be defined as end of choice,
And I only listened to the --- love you broke your loudest,

But this world,
Will be shaken by a whisper,
But this world,
Will be shaken by a whisper,

But this world,
And I live with integrity,
Will be shaken by a whisper (and peace inside, and peace inside)
But this world,
And I will live with all honesty,
Will be shaken by a whisper (and peace inside, and peace inside)

Alone

Christmas, this year, could well be the loneliest so far.

Imagine this, spending Noche Buena alone in your apartment when every year you fly home to the comforts of family and good food. This year,though, you stay put because you have to work.

Imagine this, you brave Shaw Boulevard’s hell, er, traffic to get yourself a fine bottle of Merlot (yes, you’re beginning to enjoy wine but, admit it, you can only distinguish between white and red), prepare Tuna Marinara (the peso wasted on Yummy ain’t a bad thing), and belch a few high, albeit annoyingly shrill, notes in the shower, only to end up sweating and trying to figure out how in sweet Jesu(!) will you pop that cork off the bottle (you DID consider whacking the top off instead) with your non-Herculean strength.

Imagine this, dozing off to sleep at nine in the evening, forgetting to call your dear family, as tradition dictates, and making up a really good excuse in the morning why you haven’t called. ‘I really tried but I kept getting “Service is not available.”‘ Yeah right!

Oh, there was no reason you had to be alone on Christmas Eve. It’s just that, you had all the reasons you were alone. Figured?

Hey, (aren’t you) sOoo looking forward to New Year’s Eve and what loneliness it has to offer?…

Ponder...

For mortals who have to go through life, its twists and turns– life sucks or rocks! Either way, you have to live it.