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Showing posts from July, 2010

How Paglilitis ni Andres Bonifacio made me feel so stupid (as opposed to Inception, which made me feel smart)

So there I was, outside UP Film Center with Weng, on a rainy Wednesday evening. We have just seen Mario O Hara's Paglilitis ni Andres Bonifacio and both of us were boggled by the movie's treatment of Bonifacio's last days.

"It's theatrical no?" I asked Weng.

"Very much so. Parang combination siya ng folklore (Ibong Adarna), magic realism and actual historical documents. Pero ano ang silbi ni bald-headed girl?"

"I think she's a clown. Didn't the movie specified in the beginning that it's a comedy?"

"Sort of like a narrator in a theater play. Very theatrical talaga."

"But it has its poetic moments: the silhouette of the flags in the window as Filipinos flee from war, the floating fire outside the witch's hut..."

"Na parang Gabriel Garcia Marquez lang... And don't forget the prisoners' sing-along..."

"Na parang ang kulang na lang si Noel Cabangon..."

"I know right. Pero ano ang si…

priceless

Image
Kanina, habang pinagmamasdan namin ni boyfriend si Chichi na natutulog sa bed, sabi ko: "Kung mamamatay ako, ipakain mo ang liver ko kay Chichi ha."

Tumayo na lang si boyfriend at nag-timpla ng kape. You're going crazy.

But I'd chop off my arm just to make my dog happy. Seriously.

Parang kelan lang, iniihian pa niya ang unan ko. Pero ngayon, sa front door ng kapit bahay na lang. She's already four months old by the way. Nagtataka nga ang mga kaibigan ko dahil super obsessed ako sa kanya. I guess they were surprised with my capacity to love someone apart from myself. In the beginning, I stupidly thought that she would be the antidote to my growing cynicism. Perhaps with the rejuvenative power of canine cuteness I would emerge friendlier and more approachable. Upon closer inspection, however, I realized that my affinity for the dog stems from my intensifying distrust of humans.

Pero paano ko ba naman hindi mamahalin ang isang asong kung todo kahol tuwing umuuwi ako. …

ang madramang gripo

How can I be so careless? What made me think that he wouldn't mind? I don't know. He seemed genuinely hurt. I go to him while he is in front of the sink washing his face. I embrace him tightly and whisper "I love yous" in his ear. He doesn't respond but merely smile through the mirror. I look at our reflection. We are no longer young. He tries to turn off the faucet but water still leaks through. I look at it and laugh.

"What a convenient metaphor," I said. "Pati gripo nagda-drama."

"Nothing works in this house," he replied. "It's filled with holes."

I loosen my grip on him. He walks out of the bathroom. I follow him to our room.