Ang ganda ng araw today. Parang lahat nang masinagan nito nagiging poetic, nagiging parang flashback sa isang pelikulang galing hollywood. kahit basura at estero, nakaka-trigger ng alaala at melancholia.
In 2008, the Washington Post wondered whether the average American would recognize beauty if it had suddenly materialized during a busy hour in the middle of a nondescript mall. To find out the answer they planted one of the most accomplished violinists in the world, Joshua Bell, for an incognito performance along with his Gibson ex Huberman (a violin “handcrafted in 1713 by Antonio Stradivari during the Italian master’s ‘golden period’”).
“So would a crowd gather?” asked Gene Weingarten in his article “Pearls Before Breakfast” for the Washington Post. He asked Leonard Slatkin, music director of the National Symphony Orchestra who answered with a resounding yes. But despite Bell’s wonderful performance (a difficult Bach piece, among others), the acclaimed musician earned a mere $32.17 and a just few glances.
“If a great musician plays great music but no one hears... was he really any good?” Weingarten further wrote. “It’s an old epistemological debate, older, actually than the koan ab…
Bumuga ako at mabilis na lumabas ang mga usok na parang spider web sa dulo ng aking sigarilyo. splat, it seems to say. sticky. fragile and well, webby. sa aking harapan unti unti nang nagiging blue ang dating black na horizon. another day is ahead me pero bakit parang hindi pa tapos ang kahapon. metaphorical ba ito? literal? or just a sign that i need to sleep already. sa aking tabi ang isang bote ng gin. colorless. sa sobrang walang kulay, color silver na.
Guitar feedback bounces off the four corners of the speeding car. I sit back and feel the noise crawl and echo inside my cavernous ears. Outside,lampposts leave a trail of light across the dark, early morning street. The road is empty and slick with rain. I feel the vehicle gain more speed and I brace myself for the inevitable collision. I want to scream but I seem to be in some sort of trance. I imagine the wind whipping at the windshield. The beats become faster and faster. We are all in confluence now. The metallic sheets of the car, the throbbing veins under my skin, and the asphalt road beneath us. The sensation is oddly enough unbelievably sexy. We head out into the flyover. The vibration fills me with pleasure. I close my eyes and wait for that orgasmic release as we swerve from the road and flyacross the rail. I open my eyes and see light and shadow dancing before me. I smile as we finally nosedive into the hard, cold concrete below.
Do they dream of anything other than food? Do they even sleep at all? Do they always prefer their meal throbbing and stinking of fear? Do they love eating the tender parts of the body more than the crunchy bones? How about the sinewy arms and the pulsating veins? Do they like it when humans struggle out of their clutches? Does the hunt make them hungrier, the dinner even tastier? Have they even dreamt of kinilaw na eyeballs or have swooned over marinated fingers dipped in blood? How about inadobong hita or barbecued ass? I wonder if they would love sinigang na armpit or giniling na leeg? Maybe they would love a cooked meal for a change.
galing dito ang litrato: http://neuronarrative.files.wordpress.com/2009/01/zombies.jpg